#maybe the goblin baby bit?

[psudopod]

Snufkin quotes for the tumblrtrolls

[multi-fandom-imagine]

May I have more of fatherhood oneshot with Odysseus please? 🥺 this man really gave me baby fever

A/n: aha 🤣 same... (I love writing dad fics for him)

The sun had barely crested the cliffs of Ithaca, and the palace was just beginning to stir—except for Odysseus, who was already spiraling into his second existential crisis of the week.

His hair? A mess.

His tunic? Mismatched and inside out.

His eyes? Bloodshot and twitching.

His sandals? Probably on the wrong feet.

And his mood?

Unhinged.

He sprinted through the halls, arms flailing slightly, looking every inch a war-hardened general turned exhausted dad of toddlers.

“THEY’RE GONE AGAIN!” he bellowed.

He burst into the dining room, startling a very calm Telemachus, who was just trying to enjoy his olives.

“What’s gone?” the prince asked, mouth full.

“The twins! They vanished!” Odysseus shouted, patting himself down, checking under furniture, lifting up rugs. “I turned around for one second—ONE!—and poof! Gone like shadows! Curse the gods!”

Telemachus blinked. "...Father.”

Odysseus was now on his knees, looking under a fruit basket.

“Maybe they crawled into the grain stores again—they love grain. Or worse! What if they’re—”

“Father.”

“—in the stables again? Oh gods, the goats! One of them bit me last time—”

“FATHER!”

Odysseus froze.

Telemachus pointed. "Look down.”

Odysseus slowly looked at himself.

And there they were.

One twin strapped snugly to his chest, babbling happily and smacking his face with a sticky palm.

The other fast asleep, head tucked under his chin, drooling on his tunic like a little sponge with limbs.

”…Oh.”

He stared at them.

Then at his son.

Then back at them.

“They were on me the whole time?”

“Yes.”

Odysseus exhaled long and slow, then groaned and flopped face-first onto the floor, the twins giggling wildly at the ride.

Your voice echoed from the hallway“If you wake me up one more time, Odysseus, I will let the toddlers braid your beard while you sleep.” It was a thinly vail threat of someone who was pregnant that did not to be bothered.

Odysseus just lay there on the floor, two babies squirming on his chest, and muttered.

“I conquered Troy for this.”

One of the twins sneezed directly into his mouth.

“…And I’d do it again.”

•Moments Later•

The late afternoon sun slanted through the nursery windows, painting golden beams across the soft rugs and carved wooden toys scattered across the floor. Gentle harp music floated from somewhere down the hall, and in the middle of it all sat Odysseus, half-slumped in a rocking chair, his eyes glazed and one hand twitching as a half-finished lullaby slipped from his lips.

His tunic was stained with something sticky (possibly honey… or ink?), and one twin had managed to wedge themselves into his arm while the other gnawed triumphantly on a leather sandal.

Odysseus hadn’t blinked in ten minutes.

Enter Telemachus, calm, composed, and carrying a cloth bundle of warm bread and honeyed figs.

He took one look at his father, one look at the chaos, and sighed with fond exasperation.

“Father.”

Odysseus blinked slowly. “…Yes?”

“You haven’t slept in… four days.”

“That’s not true. I closed one eye last night.”

“You fell asleep face-first in the soup.”

“It was a tactical nap.”

Telemachus crouched in front of him, gently prying the chewing twin away from the sandal and replacing it with a soft rattle.

“Go sleep, Father. I’ll watch them.”

Odysseus blinked again, as if processing the words in slow motion. “You… you’ll what?”

“Watch the twins. Give you and Mother a break.”

Odysseus leaned forward dramatically, placing both hands on his son’s shoulders. “You… glorious boy. You brave, noble, reckless boy.”

Telemachus smirked. “I trained with Athena and survived the suitors. I think I can handle two half-naked goblins with sticky fingers.”

“They bite.”

“So do I.”

Odysseus laughed weakly, patted him on the cheek, then swayed to his feet like a war-weary general who had finally laid down his sword.

“I will be laying down next to your beautiful mother.”

“Please try to not create anymore children.”

As Odysseus staggered toward his chambers—muttering about “soft pillows” and “blessed silence”—Telemachus scooped both giggling twins into his arms, lifting them effortlessly.

He looked down at them, one drooling on his arm, the other reaching for his braid.

“Alright, you tiny beasts. Let’s find a storybook, some juice, and see who survives until sundown.”

The twins shrieked with joy.

And behind them, down the hall, a door softly closed…

The man finding the bed, And Odysseus, King of Ithaca, finally slept the moment he was in your arms.

[ashthesalamipiece]

"You Wanna Run That Back?"

Fem!Reader x Kirishima x Bakugou (poly) – Domestic / Crack-Fluff / Post-baby chaos

Sequel here

---

It was one of those mornings where everything felt just a little too loud.

The baby was fussing, you were half-asleep with your shirt halfway up, and Kirishima was shirtless in the kitchen making eggs one-handed like some kind of breakfast god while holding a bottle in the other.

And then there was Bakugou.

Bakugou Katsuki: combat-ready hero, battle-hardened, emotionally constipated... and currently shirtless on the couch, cradling his infant son with all the confidence of someone defusing a bomb. Which, honestly, might’ve been less terrifying to him.

You sat nearby, sipping coffee and watching with half-lidded amusement as Katsuki awkwardly adjusted the baby against his bare chest.

“You’re holding him like he’s radioactive,” you yawned.

“He is radioactive,” Bakugou grumbled. “He exploded in his diaper twice yesterday.”

“He’s three months old. He literally doesn’t know what a diaper is.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “He knows enough. I see the look in his eye. He’s plotting.”

You snorted just as the baby started rooting—wiggling, snuffling, little fists clenched as he nuzzled against Bakugou’s chest.

“Uh, Katsuki,” you said, leaning forward, amused, “I think he’s looking for—”

Too late.

The baby latched.

To Bakugou’s nipple.

There was a full second of pure silence.

And then—

“WHAT THE F— OI!!” Bakugou shouted, absolutely scandalized. “WHAT—WHY—HE’S GOT TEETH—!!”

You howled with laughter, nearly spilling your coffee as Bakugou tried to detach his son, who was now happily suckling on his very confused, very muscular, very male father’s chest.

From the kitchen, Kirishima peeked in with a spatula mid-air. “Wait, did he—? Bro. Bro. Did he think you were—?”

“YES!” Bakugou yelled, holding the baby out like he’d just found out he was a secret landmine. “He bit me! This little goblin tried to breastfeed from me!!”

Kirishima was laughing so hard he had to put the pan down before he dropped it. “Bro, your chest is kinda soft lately—maybe he got confused!”

Bakugou glared murder. “Say that again and I’m burning your protein powder.”

Meanwhile, the baby was just giggling now, cheeks round and happy, hands reaching back out for his unsuspecting pseudo-milk-source.

“He just loves you,” you giggled, wiping your eyes. “He thinks Papa Boom is his backup bottle.”

“I will sue this child,” Bakugou growled, clutching his offended nipple. “I’m emotionally traumatized.”

Kirishima flopped onto the couch beside him, still grinning. “You sure you’re not lactating, babe? You’ve been glowing lately.”

Bakugou looked personally offended.

You got up, scooped the baby into your arms, and planted a kiss on Katsuki’s cheek. “Thanks for the tit-ful service, Papa.”

Kirishima wheezed.

Bakugou looked into the void.

“I hate this family.”

He didn’t, though.

Because an hour later, while you fed the baby from the correct chest, Katsuki was already curled up beside you, muttering under his breath while Kirishima tried not to giggle from the corner.

And when the baby finished and curled up between his dads with a sleepy little sigh, Bakugou was the one who kissed his head and whispered, “Try that again and I’m putting you up for adoption.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Perfectly Purple

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Hawkins Library on the main card and Pastel on the Hop into Spring bonus card

Rated: T

Words: 1,301 [also on AO3]

Tags: Pre-S1; Pre-Steddie; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Jealous Eddie; Eddie Munson is a little shit

There's a cardigan draped over the backrest of Eddie’s favorite chair. It's pastel purple, with a shiny row of mother-of-pearl buttons and a delicate satin bow on the collar. 

“Huh,” says Frank, putting his books down on the table and looking around the empty library. “Looks like someone forgot their jacket.” 

“Not someone,” Eddie mutters, lifting a soft, knitted sleeve between two fingers, as if the frills on the hems might turn into fangs any second. “Nancy Wheeler.” 

Jeff, who just slid into the remaining chair, stops rifling through his backpack and frowns up at him. 

“Nancy who now?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wheeler. From freshman year? Little Miss Goodie Two Shoes with the perfect brunette locks and large baby blues. Aspiring new member of the newspaper club. Best friends with Holland from band. Looks a little like a sad baby deer most of the time, if baby deer wore stockings and hair barrettes. C’mon Jeff, show a bit of an interest in our fellow students.” 

Jeff gives him a look.

“Maybe if you showed a little less interest in our fellow students and a little more interest in your books, we wouldn’t be stuck here, having to redo this report. What’s the matter with you? Where does this sudden obsession with random freshmen come from?”

“It's not an obsession,” Eddie claims. This is ridiculous. Why would he be obsessed with little Nancy Wheeler and her perfect hair and her perfect smile and her perfect pastel atrocity of a purple cardigan? “I am merely trying to stay up to date on the social ecosystem of-”

“She’s dating Harrington,” Frank says from behind his book. Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“What, really? Since when?” 

They both turn to face Eddie. 

“How am I supposed to know?” he snaps, as if he has no idea. As if he doesn't know that it's been two weeks and three-and-a-half days since Harrington and Wheeler arrived at Karen Friedman's birthday party together. As if he isn't aware that Wheeler was wearing this exact cardigan when they snuck out to kiss between the rose bushes in the backyard. As if he wasn't there, lurking in the shadow of the garden wall like some hideous, voyeuristic goblin with a lunchbox full of weed. 

Jeff's eyes go soft. 

“Shit, man. That blows, I'm sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Eddie paces in a circle in front of the stupid chair with Nancy Wheeler’s stupid cardigan, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. “What are you sorry for? The way our peers keep mindlessly reenacting the same hollow clichés of mediocre small town life over and over again, not knowing that this is the very thing that's trapping them in this capitalist hellscape of a society? Because you're right, that totally blows.” 

“Okay,” Frank says. “No more Mountain Dew for you. Now how about we all calm down and start working on this-” 

But Eddie isn't done. 

“Oh, look at me, I'm Nancy Wheeler,” he says, yanking the cardigan from the chair and draping it over his shoulders, letting the empty sleeves dangle by his sides. “I'm pretty and polite and smart. I study for fun. I've never had to redo a report in my life. I'm gonna pass high school with flying colors and maybe even go to college, and then I'll throw it all away to become a perfect little housewife and raise some airheaded jock’s brats.” 

Jeff snorts a laugh. “Oh my God, you do look a bit like her. You should keep that thing, maybe you'll get Harrington fooled.” 

Frank raises his book again, doing his best impression of a guy who just wandered in by accident and has never seen these lunatics in his life. 

“Maybe on a moonless, cloudy night,” he says. “If we get him drugged and concussed first.” 

Eddie snatches the book from his hand. Frank curses and tries to grab him, but he lets out a high-pitched giggle and dances out of reach. 

“What was that, Steve?” he chirps, leaning his back against the nearest shelf and clutching the book to his chest, fluttering his lashes up at an invisible conversation partner. “You want to go to prom with me? Little old me? Oh, I'd love to!” 

“Quit that, you moron,” Frank hisses. Jeff, meanwhile, has collapsed on the table and is desperately trying to stifle his laughter. “If one of Harrington’s entourage catches you, they'll kick your ass.” 

Eddie gasps. 

“What did you say, Steve? You think I'm the prettiest girl in school? Oh, gee, you're awfully handsome, too.” 

“I give up,” Frank groans. “I don't know why I put up with you.” 

Eddie twirls a lock of hair between his fingers. 

“No, really, Steve,” he sing-songs. “I think you're, like, sooo dreamy with your broad shoulders and your muscles and that smile, and all of daddy’s money. Did you do something to your hair, Steve? It's so floofy. I wanna run my fingers through it while you shove your tongue down my-” 

“I've been trying out a new hairspray,” says a voice. “Thanks for noticing.” 

The world stops. Eddie stares at Jeff and Frank, hoping against hope that one of them has secretly been working on one killer of an impersonation number, but they've both gone still as statues, gawking at something to his left with wide, horrified eyes. 

Eddie turns. 

Steve Harrington is looking back at him from where he materialized between the shelves, like a malicious demonic entity summoned by calling its name thrice. If malicious demonic entities wore varsity jackets and polo shirts, that is.

“Hi,” he says. “Munson, right?” 

Eddie chokes on his own spit. A sound leaves his mouth. It sounds like “hurghlflugh.” 

Harrington wrinkles his brow and comes closer. Eddie tries to back away, but the shelves behind him refuse to open and swallow him whole, and where the hell is that goddamn portal to Narnia when you need it? He opts for screwing his eyes shut and raising the book that’s still clutched to his chest like a shield, waiting for the punch. 

Except the punch doesn’t come. 

“I’ll need that back.” 

Eddie opens one eye. Harrington has extended one hand and is watching him with his head tilted to the side, mouth twitching and eyes sparkling with what looks an awful lot like reluctant amusement. 

“I know you guys are into roleplaying or something,” he says, “and I’m not judging. Whatever floats your boat, right? But Nancy is waiting in the car, and we have movie tickets, so I just wanted to hop in and get her jacket.” 

He wiggles his fingers and gives an impatient little nod at the cardigan. The very cardigan that is still draped loosely over Eddie’s shoulders. 

Eddie has never stripped out of a garment as quickly in his life. He wishes the circumstances were sexier, but here they are. Harrington’s fingers brush his as he takes the jacket. 

“Thank you,” he says politely. “Purple looks good on you, by the way. If you ever feel like adding a bit more color to your wardrobe.” 

Eddie watches how he turns, tossing a wave and nod at Jeff and Frank before he disappears between the shelves again. Somewhere at the other end of the library, the door clicks shut. 

Eddie’s legs give out. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, landing ass-first on the library floor. “What the fuck just happened?” 

Frank sighs and rises from his chair.

“I’m not sure. But I know two things. One: I’m not doing any study groups with you ever again.” He bends and extends a hand, but instead of pulling Eddie to his feet, he just picks up the fallen book. As he turns to walk back to his seat, he gently pats Eddie on the head. “And two: You might wanna invest in a nice cardigan or three.” 

More Steddie Bingo

[talaok]

Imagine no outbreak Joel seeing you doing a million steps nightly skin care routine and just laying under the covers and waiting for you to be done and come to bed already and slowly getting frustrated

Maybe a little toddler cuddling in bed with him and Joel fake complaining to them about you

“Mommy is taking a long time huh?”

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: this request is so so so cute, anon you're a genius

he was being a drama queen, 

as always.

You'd been in the bathroom a total of five minutes and already he was groaning and calling out to you as if you'd been in there an hour.

"I've just finished washing my face baby, I'm not even half way done" you laughed, patting your skin with a towel 

Another groan sounded from the bedroom and you just smiled, as you reached for the fist of the many products that were gonna go on your face.

This was part of your routine now.

Him moaning and complaining because you were taking too long and wanting nothing more than to just have you there in bed with him into his arms, while you laughed in front of the mirror at how much of an unpatient man you had married.

"I don't even understand why you do that stuff" he sighed, loud enough for you to hear, turning again in frustration under the blanket "You're already gorgeous, darlin'"

You rolled your eyes, your mouth betraying you with a smile

The amount of times you'd heard him say that...

Doing your skincare, makeup, putting on lotion... all tasks that to him did nothing but lessen the amount of time you could be in his arms.

"nice try miller" you chuckled, peering out of the bathroom door to talk to him "but flattery ain't gonna work"

Just as his eyes narrowed, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, a little goblin jumped on the bed, having sneaked in without either of you hearing.

Said Goblin, being Emma, your beautiful, smart, nosy daughter.

"daddy!" she giggled, jumping literally on top of him, earning a painful groan from Joel, before he smiled, feigning an attack on her by wrapping his arms around her and bringing her down to him.

"whatcha doing here peach?"

"'m not tired" she explained, hiding her face in his neck

"aw babygirl, you can stay with us for a while, but you have to sleep in your own bed ok?" he murmured, stroking her hair "You're a big girl now"

"mh-mh" she nodded

Your heart warmed as you watched the scene before you, but before you lost precious moments where Joel was too preoccupied with your daughter to realize you still hadn't finished, you went back to your skincare.

But of course, it was all in vain.

Not even a minute passed that you heard him murmur "Mommy's taking a long time huh?" to Emma, who gasped as she answered

"where is she?"

"she's in the bathroom, putting all sorts of stuff on her face"

"what stuff?" She frowned, confused

"stuff she doesn't need" he explained 

You huffed a laugh as you popped your head out of the bathroom, still massaging some serum onto your cheeks "I'm almost done I swear"

"mommy!" Emma smiled wide as she saw you

"Hi pumpkin" You blew her a kiss in return

You watched as Joel murmured something in her ear, something you could very well hear

"tell mommy she doesn't need all that stuff, that she's already beautiful"

Emma didn't waste a second before complying

"You're pretty, mommy!"

You rolled your eyes at him, although the smile on your lips didn't fade one bit

"thank you baby" you stifled a chuckle "but you should explain to daddy that the reason I am so beautiful as he keeps saying, is because of this stuff"

"daddy!" Emma scolded him, turning back to him "You didn't tell me that! You should listen to mommy, she's smart"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, 

God if she wasn't right

"You're right" he grinned "she is smart, and I should listen to her" he said "But you know what would be better? If while she was explaining all that smart stuff she's always saying, she was right here beside us, so we could cuddle with her, wouldn't it?"

Emma considered what he said for a moment before agreeing

"yes" she nodded "it would"

You sighed, exasperatedly, as you finally exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind you

"there, I'm done" you said, climbing into bed "happy now?"

They almost answered in unison, but while Emma yelled her "yes!" as she jumped between you two, Joel's "yes" was much calmer... only a hell of a lot more smug.

He brought you closer with his strong arms, sandwiching your daughter between you and him in a tight hug.

"You're the least patient person I've ever met Miller" you murmured, turning to him with a glare

"And you, sweetheart, are the most perfect one I've ever met."

You rolled your eyes, your mouth once again betraying you

"I better be" you bit down a smirk, watching him grin

"I love you" he murmured, ghosting your lips 

"I love you too assh-" your eyes lowered to where your daughter held onto you, forcing you to censure yourself "I love you too" you said, before he kissed you softly, his hand drawing gentle circles on your waist,

You leaned away when quiet snores sounded through the room, and once you lowered your gaze, you found out why.

"just this time" Joel immediately suggested, giving you his best puppy eyes

"You said that last time too" you reminded him

The pout on him persisted, as he tried harder to convince you

"please?" he begged,

You let out another exasperated sigh, before inevitably, as always, agreeing

"fine" you breathed "but this is the last time"

He kissed you again, and when he let go... you swore your daughter had a smile matching his on her lips.

You would have bet a fortune that this was their plan all along.

[cloversnstrawberries]

"nestling" platonic!yandere!jareth & teen!gn!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; Beth couldn't have known any better-- she's a kid, it wasn't her fault she wished her older brother to the Goblin King, because as far as she knew, it was just a story. As far as you'd known, it was a story-- come to find out, it very much is not, and you're scrambling to try and take her place and run the Labyrinth to get little Richie back safe and sound.

Unbeknownst to you, you've fallen right into the Goblin King's trap. Hook, line, and sinker.

additional notes; hello yes.. i'm back... been having a bit of mental health trouble lately, so why not write for one of my comfort movies :] PLEEEAAASE request jareth i love this devious fae man and there is a sore lack of platonic jareth & reader...

*jareth refers to reader as 'nestling' in a few spots, because owl. haha. compared to him you probably are actually considered a baby. like a newborn. dudes OLD by human standards. also reader is a babysitter and babysitting beth & richie. i didn't know where else to mention this.

warnings; possessive behavior, jareth being cryptic, jareth is non-human therefore does not abide by human culture/morals nor understand it fully, terror, slight horror (the goblins...), kidnapping, talks of transformation presumably against reader's will (human -> fae), panic, and i cannot for the life of me remember anything else :( please let me know if I forgot something major!!

w/c; 3.7k

She didn't mean it, that much you know.

For God's sake, she couldn't have meant it-- she's four! She just entered kindergarten, can hardly remember the ABC's. If anything, it's your fault this happened in the first place. Even tangentially so, you're still willing to take full responsibility.

It was a storybook, that's all you thought it was. Something about it drew you in, into that quaint little antique shop and right to the book section of it. Instinctively, like you were in a trance-- your eyes scanned the shelf, immediately landing on a book with a plain, textless red spine.

Once it was in your hands, it was like the owner came out of nowhere. The way her hands shook should've set you off, as she told you, in no uncertain terms-- "Hah-- I didn't think we had that anymore. It's been here for years."

Then, she'd patted you on the back, and said she could tell you really wanted it. She gave it to you for free-- but something about her demeanor told you there was a far less benevolent intention lying beneath the act of kindness.

The ways her eyes shifted from the book, to you, then to the book-- she threw a glance to the wall behind her, and as you followed her eyes, you saw her looking at an old cuckoo clock hanging on the wall.

It must've been some kind of movie prop or novelty item, because-- while you weren't very good at roman numerals, which it was numbered in for some godforsaken reason; you could still count the number of markers-- of which, there were 13.

Her panic was almost palpable, as she all but shoved you out of the shop-- saying that she forgot to do something important, closing the door right behind you and switching the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

And as you stood on the sidewalk outside of the little shop, you don't know how you didn't question it further. A part of you wanted to believed you dreamt it-- but the book bound in red textile, embossed with bright gold letters and a black border that made up its front cover, said otherwise.

For a while, it just sat on your desk. The next weekend, you popped by the shop again-- the woman was working, and she apologized for how she acted. She didn't explain herself, though.

Maybe the strange cuckoo-clock had been sold, and in its stead was a near-identical looking one, but this one only had 12 markers. Or maybe you'd imagined that part, so flustered that your eyes did a goof.

A few months after-- you finally picked the book up, the weirdness and anxiety surrounding the way it came into your possession had mostly worn off, and you found yourself enjoying the story.

Enjoying it so much, that you took it with you as you babysat the Hamilton kids, Beth and Richie. 4 and 5 1/2 years old, respectively-- they were good kids, but they were still kids.

Still got into silly fights, and this one had been over who got to choose the movie you said you'd watch with them tonight. Beth wanted to watch ET, while Richie wanted to watch the Carebears movie.

They wouldn't listen you, wouldn't compromise-- you tried saying you'd watch both films tonight, but then they started arguing on which movie would be first. Both said they'd fall asleep before the second one would start-- which, you'll give some props for admitting that, but it still caused problems.

You tried a few more alternatives, until Beth got fed-up, shoved Richie, and shrieked "I wish the Goblin King would come and take you away," as she stormed up the stairs, and when she got to the top-- her face red and scrunched, as she finished with

"Right now, Richie!"

The whole thing lasted maybe a minute at most, and you'd stayed glued to the couch for the duration of it. A strange, sinking sort of... fear, settled in your gut.

Anything said by a 4 year old should not have that amount of finality, shouldn't have been enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It was a story, but that didn't make you any less afraid. Maybe it's because it's dark out, and the Hamilton's live just on the cusp of the town-- it was a good 5 minute walk to the nearest neighbor-- that set your teeth on edge,

Whatever it was that spooked you so bad, it made you stand. For a moment, you just stood there, looking between the stairs and Richie, who was standing still. The little shove Beth gave him wasn't enough to send him toppling,

But he had this... vacant sort of look about him, and he didn't answer you when you asked if he was okay. Torn between two options, something prickled in the back of your mind. That you shouldn't be here right now, shouldn't be near Richie--

"I'm... gonna go check on your sister, you stay right here, okay?" You kept your eyes on him, not moving an inch-- hoping for a response. Whether it'd be an 'okay' or a 'stay here' was fine by you,

But you didn't get that. He didn't say anything, didn't move at all. His face looked pallid, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face-- even though he'd just been complaining about how cold he was.

"Ooookaaay..." You drawled, concern lacing through your tone as you tore yourself away from the strange sight, heading up the stairs-- you heard a window open, halfway through the trek.

Beth screamed, and you know damn well she couldn't have opened that window on her own. It sounded like it came from her bedroom, and the only window there was your standard up-and-down sliding sort of window,

The lock was on, and even if it wasn't, there wasn't nearly enough muscle on her little frame to exert the force necessary to open that window.

It sent you into a panic, tearing up the rest of the stairs and down the hall-- screaming her name, you put your foot down on top of a stuffed toy you could've sworn had been downstairs.

You heard shuffling, manic little giggles around you. Paying no mind to that, you picked yourself off the ground and hurdled toward the room. The door was open, but it was the kind that swung out.

The hallway felt narrower than usual, like the house itself was trying to choke you out. A feeling of wrongness invading every sense of yours-- little hands grasped at your ankles, pulling at the ends of your sleep-pants, little sharp nails digging into the flesh of your leg as the panic reached a fever pitch--

"You aren't supposed to be here," One raspy voice said, barely a whisper. Another one, distinctly different, expressed a similar sentiment "This doesn't involve you, go away."

Upon reaching the door, it slammed shut. Right before that, you heard a voice that was so achingly familiar, yet so new. Like you'd heard in a dream or something--

A click of the tongue, almost sounding chastising-- a woosh of air, and the door had slammed closed. In your panic, you looked down-- there were.. were little creatures surrounding you, and terror made your throat close.

Lifting up one leg, you shook one off-- tried doing the same to the other leg, only to find that the one on there was adamant on hanging on. Its terrible little fingernails shredded at your sleep pants, leaving you no choice but to grab it by the scruff and toss it down the hall.

"Beth!" You screamed, looking back down the hall-- it was distorted now, like something out of your nightmares. Beth's room was getting further and further away, and you ran to it, only for the goblins-- and yes, you're quite sure they were goblins-- to grasp at you again, slowing you down.

Despite the perceived distance, you could still hear a male voice, wispy and otherworldly-- clear as day, through the door, as he said "Persistent little thing, aren't you?"

And-- and you don't know how to explain it, but in an instant you knew it was the Goblin King. That was the only... logical explanation, though this situation was anything but logical. If you went to a trusted adult about this, you'd probably get set up for a psych evaluation ASAP.

Chest heaving, no other option-- you scrambled your brain for any way out of this. The door was getting further away, and you felt your legs give and your knees bash into the unforgiving, hardwood floor,

"Please! Please, Please just-- Please! I'll do anything, just-- I-- uh, Jareth! Jareth, you have to-- uh, just stop for a sec--!" He was a fae, right? The Goblin King-- how much the rules you'd read about in other fantasy stories applied to him, you have no idea; but whatever it was, your desperate plea seemed to catch his fancy.

In an instant, you felt a million times lighter. No more scratching, clawing hands at your ankles, no more rasping, childish taunts; the hallway was normal again, and you sat back on your haunches-- the door to Beth's room was wide open, and you sat right in the doorway.

Inside was a crying Beth, and oh, how badly you wished to reach your hand out and comfort her-- but now wasn't the time. Not as your gaze trailed up, taking in the extravagant, otherworldly detail of the man's outfit.

You could've sworn that the whole place was doused in glitter, and maybe some of it got in your eye or something-- eyes watering, blinking rapidly. Or maybe you were about to cry right alongside Beth,

Knowing full-well what it meant for the Goblin King to be here, suddenly it clicked why Richie hadn't responded to you. Why he looked so far away, like he was in a trance.

His smile was sharp, but not cruel-- teasing, not mocking. Like he was endeared to you, as the heels of his fancy, knee-high boots clicked against the wood of Beth's room. Getting closer to you, slowly-- like he was approaching a spooked cat.

"So you're the one that found my story, hm? Odd, that you weren't the one to wish the little boy away." He made no comment on any debt you may owe him for saying please, or any debt he may owe you for knowing his true name.

It was all too quick, one moment he was near the window on the far side of the room-- and the next, he stood right before you, head tilted like an inquisitive bird.

An inquisitive owl, which, if memory serves you right-- the story said he could transform into at will. His smile widened to a lopsided grin, as he addressed you with far too much amusement given the current situation. "Well? Are you going to sit there all day, or will you stand and let me have a look at you?"

Scrambling up, you nearly pitched right into him. He wasn't tall per-se, but his presence was suffocating nonetheless. In a last-minute save, you stumbled back.

The wind was knocking right out of your lungs-- what little you had, as you held your breath in an attempt not to hyperventilate so hard you pass out-- as your back collided with the wall beside you.

The lightswitch dug right into your spine, but you paid it no mind. More pressing matters, and all-- the more pressing matters being how the Goblin King reached out, and you expected him to roughly grab your jaw and flip your head around, have a look at you, he'd said.

instead, it landed innocently on the top of your head. Shaking like a leaf, you look at him with wide, confused eyes. He still had his head tilted, smile gone-- overtaken by a thoughtful sort of expression.

You said nothing, despite the millions of questions running through your head at the moment. Let him mull over whatever he had in his head--

Of course, when he opened his mouth to speak, is when you decided it was a fantastic time to speak. A stupid decision, to cut him off-- that's definitely rude, isn't it? Fae don't like rude people.

"If-- I wanna run. For Ric-- for, uh, the little boy." You caught yourself, not knowing how far the 'names have power' thing went with the Goblin King in particular.

It left you absolutely shocked and bewildered, when in lieu of a stinging reprimand or maybe a clipped scold about cutting in-- the Goblin King simply smiled again. Taking no issue with your (albeit accidental, but still) rudeness.

Straightening his neck, he replied with "Ah, little Richie?" The Fae seemed to take immense pleasure in the way you went stock-still at that little revelation. You settled for a simple nod, throat closing up so bad that you doubt you could speak coherently by then.

The Goblin King hummed, pretending to think it over-- and with an overly cheerful tone and demeanor, he pulled his hand from your head, cryptically proclaiming "That won't be necessary, nestling."

You took a double take at the... term of endearment(?), but did your best to brush past it. You looked at Beth, who was shaking just as bad as you-- no, worse. You want to pull her into a tight hug and tell her it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't have known.

"Wha-- She's four, man!" You don't know what got into you, fear turning to foolish boldness in an instant. Goblin King straightened his posture a bit, a bit of surprise painting his features. "You-- You can't make her run the Labyrinth, she'll die!"

Placing a hand over his heart-- or where it'd be on a human, you're not very educated on Fae anatomy after all-- in a dramatic show of faux-offense, he acted like you'd offended him.

Like he had any right to be offended, if that was actually the case.

"Is that what you think of me?" Narrowing your eyes, squaring your shoulders as you grasped desperately at the last shreds of your sudden, unexplainable bravery; you silently questioned him.

He dropped his hand with a little smile, and looked over at Beth-- she squeaked, and you twitched. A knee-jerk reaction, to take one step forward, maybe to try and stop the Goblin King if he tried anything.

If he noticed it, he didn't say anything about it. Still looking at Beth, he sighed, voice eerie in a way you couldn't figure out as he said "That was never the plan, making her run my Labyrinth. I don't make a point of answering these sorts of calls, most times. Children don't have developed enough brains to realize what they're really doing."

"...Oh." Your mouth went bone dry, arms hanging limply by your side. Fingers clenching and unclenching, not knowing what to do with yourself. "You say that like it's a surprise, that I'm not cruel." Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face you.

You couldn't have predicted how he'd look at you next. Angry? Maybe, or perhaps frustrated-- a sly sort of amusement, a smirk on his face. But that look on his face isn't any of those,

He looks sad. Wholly, and humanly sad, at the idea that you think a non-human would have such sound morals when it comes to this topic. But that didn't make sense, what...

"Then why are you here?" Like a switch got flipped, any and all traces of sadness was off of his face. Replaced a frightening sort of glee. It made your skin crawl, the way he looked so human, but there was something so... wrong with it. A baser part of your brain screaming at you to not trust him, that he wasn't human, no matter how similar he appears.

He made a non-committal swing of his hand, like he was trying to grasp at the air for a response-- "Why else? I've grown lonely in my immortality, and find myself needing an heir."

Oh no.

Oh hell no.

Like a Phoenix, the dying embers of your seemingly short-lived bravery have come back full force-- burning hot as you took a few daring steps forward, then a few more,

Until you were right in front of the Goblin King, right within grabbing distance. You could sock him in the stomach, if you didn't know any better-- instead, you jabbed your finger in his face, nose scrunched with anger.

"You are not taking Richie to be your heir! You must have hundreds of kids wished away every year--" He raised an eyebrow, making you sputter for a moment before regaining your footing-- "okay, fine-- maybe, maybe not hundreds, but you're probably not at a lost for them--" His eyebrow went down, as he patiently waited for you to end your tirade.

"But out of all of them, you are not taking Richie-- or Beth, not on my watch-- if you try, i'll go right to the kitchen, grab the salt shaker, and smash it against your head!"

So many little slips, if the other folklore was true/included the Goblin King, you're well and truly done for, in every measure of the sentiment.

Instead of being angry at your outburst, he just laughs. He laughs, and he laughs, and he laughs-- your face goes hot with embarrassment, with frustration, as you resist the urge to shake him.

"Stop laughing--!" You're so busy with him, that you don't realize the floor begins to give out from beneath you. How the hardwood floor is changing to multi-colored, uneven stone, how you can't hear Beth's little sniffles, and don't bother to notice the change in lighting until it was too late.

Once he stops laughing, is when you realize it. Taking a step back, your foot catches on the edge of a particularly high-set stone in the floor, sending you toppling over and right onto your butt.

The Goblin King was gone from your sight-- and before you could panic, you felt hand grab under your arms and heave you upright. It takes all of your strength not to let your legs buckle and say hello to the floor again.

"What makes you think I'd want a young child? I find them to be far too much work for how I live, so easy for them to wander off and get caught up with the Fireys." He turned you around, brushing imaginary dust off of your well-loved t-shirt you used to sleep in. He hummed something under his breath, a lilting sort of tune that-- against all odds, put you to ease.

Swaying in place, the Goblin King stopped dusting you off to hold you firmly by the sides of your arms. Your head lolled to the side, adrenaline crash hitting you like an absolute truck.

"No, I think you'll do quite nicely. You've indebted yourself, after all." Your brows furrowed "But that's... huh?" Your brain was sluggish, moving at a snails pace as your eyelids begun feeling like a ton of bricks.

The Goblin King didn't mock you for your totally complete and understandable question, just smiled against, took one hand off your arm-- and gently tapped the end of your nose with his fingertip.

It reminded you of your parents, in a way. In made your stomach flip-- what about them? What about Beth and Richie, will they remember this--

Will anyone remember you, or will the Goblin King place some spell to make it seem like you were never there in the first place.

Oblivious-- or maybe just uncaring-- of your impending hysteria, the Goblin King continued as usual "You asked for my help. It's not very binding, but it does mean something."

"...Jareth." You clumsily said, and he had the gall to not act surprised at all-- as he drug out "Yeees? Does my little nestling need something?" Your face scrunched in confusion, but his smile only widened further.

"Jareth, take me home." You venture to say. For what it's worth, it does have a little bit of an effect on him. His eyes go wide for a moment, jaw dropping open-- for a second, you thought you'd found a hail mary.

Only for him to throw his head back and laugh, sounding like chiming bells now. Inhuman, as he pressed you against him-- arms wrapped around you, it takes a little to put two and two together.

He's hugging you.

"My, you're a quick learner, aren't you?" One hand pressed on the back of your skull, guiding your face to the crook of his neck. As a compromise, you hook your chin over his shoulder-- staring wide-eyed at the large, glass-less(?) windows behind him. The scenery below.

The entirely inhuman, fantastical, and frankly terrifying scenery below-- outside, creatures of all shapes and sizes walk the street; from how high up you are, you can't make out anything distinct with what their saying. It all sounds like meaningless noise.

Your ears are ringing, you think.

"But... But it's your true name, isn't it?" Your voice was so small, so thin and fragile, that you hardly realized it was your own. Your arms continued to hang limply by your sides, but Jareth didn't mind as he continued to hold you close.

"Yes, it is."

he doesn't elaborate, so you push a little more "Why isn't it--" Floundering for anything else to say, your mouth opens and closes a few times, before Jareth seems to catch onto what you mean and answer the unsaid question.

"Why am I not bending to your will?" He sounded way too amused in contrast to what he was actually saying in the moment, "I'm not a lesser fae, things sort and bend and break around me. Maybe you could've gotten an average court member with that-- perhaps even a duke, but certainly not a king."

Breath caught in your throat, your eyes started watering-- you'll blame it on the weird, otherworldly glitter-- as Jareth continued to hold you, trying to... comfort you, maybe, with what he meant to be reassuring words.

In the end, it felt more like a prison sentence-- as he cooed oh-so-softly "It's alright, nestling. I'll keep you here, all safe and sound until all that pesky humanity is gone. I wouldn't want my guards to think you're a runner when you visit the town, now do I?"

[kathlare]

couldn't make it any harder

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary:Lando senses something is off with Amelie. The day unfolds slowly, wrapped in silence and unspoken weight, until understanding and quiet love anchor them back together.

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 28th, 2025 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

The sunlight was starting to creep through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, a warm golden hue kissing the hardwood floors and tangled white sheets. Lando stirred lazily, muscles stretching as he blinked slowly at the ceiling, still in that hazy limbo between dreaming and waking. A sleepy smile curled his lips as he turned to the side, arms reaching instinctively for her.

But nothing.

No Amelie.

Only the dip of the mattress where she should be, and the comforting weight of Benny curled against his legs. Lando furrowed his brows, still half-asleep, and blindly patted the sheets like she might be hiding under them.

—Ames?— he murmured, voice husky and rough with sleep. Nothing. Benny meowed softly, stretching and nuzzling into his thigh.

Lando propped himself up on one elbow, eyes squinting against the soft light. He looked toward the ensuite bathroom—door wide open, lights off, empty.

Weird.

Dragging a hand through his messy curls, he sat up and stretched again, back cracking slightly. Björn launched himself from the top of the dresser, thudding to the floor with a loud thump and darting toward the door like a creature on a mission. Lando narrowed his eyes at the cat.

—Alright, alright, little goblin, I’m coming— he muttered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, scooping up Benny into his arms with ease. The cat purred immediately, rubbing his face against Lando’s chin.

Lando kissed the top of Benny’s head, half smiling. —Where’s mommy, huh? Where’d she go? Hiding from us again?—

Björn let out a loud, demanding meow as he scratched the doorframe, tail flicking aggressively. Lando padded out of the bedroom in just his Calvin Kleins and a sleep-creased t-shirt, feet silent against the marble floors of the Monte Carlo apartment. The place was quiet, just the faint sound of waves below and the occasional seagull.

And then he saw her.

Sitting on one of the iron chairs out on the balcony, knees pulled up to her chest in one of his hoodies, the hood almost swallowing her whole. A long sleeve tugged over her hand… and a cigarette pressed between her fingers.

Lando froze.

Amelie never smoked.

Not unless something was wrong.

He blinked, staring for a moment, Benny’s warmth grounding him as something uneasy coiled in his stomach.

She didn’t see him at first. Her eyes were on the sea, glassy, lost. Her lips moved slightly, maybe mouthing something. Maybe nothing.

Then he slid the balcony door open and stepped out.

Her head snapped up.

She panicked—visibly. Quickly stubbing the cigarette out against the ashtray and tossing it, waving smoke away with a frantic hand like a teenager caught sneaking out.

—Lan, fuck, I...— she stood up in a rush, brushing her hands down the front of the hoodie like she could hide it.

He stepped closer, gentle, brows pinched in quiet concern. —Morning, baby. You alright?—

Amelie smiled tightly, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice cracked just a bit. —Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep. Needed air.—

Lando bent down, aiming to kiss her good morning, but just before his lips could reach hers, she turned her face slightly to the side.

—Ew, no— she tried to joke, waving her hand between them —I stink. I’ll brush first, promise.—

Lando blinked at her. That wasn’t like her. Amelie never said no to a morning kiss. Not even when she had morning breath. She always teased him about “not being able to resist her either way.”

He nodded slowly. —Alright. I’ll wait, stinky.—

She tried to laugh, but it was hollow. She slipped past him, fingers trailing along the railing as she walked back inside barefoot. Benny twisted in Lando’s arms, but he didn’t put him down yet. He just stared after her, standing alone on the balcony with Björn now twining around his ankles, glaring at the sea like it had answers.

The rest of the morning was… off.

She moved through the flat like a ghost. Barely touching her food. Ignoring the TV. Lando had made pancakes—her favorite, even added Nutella and strawberries. Normally she'd be perched on the counter, stealing bites from the spatula, playfully smearing chocolate on his cheek, calling him mi chef guapo. Today? She just sat curled up on the couch, legs under her, picking at a pancake with her fork without eating much more than a few bites.

The movie on TV played quietly. Ratatouille. One of her comfort films.

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile.

Lando kept glancing at her between bites, trying to make conversation. He even tried a bad French accent at one point—got nothing more than a small hum in response. No eye contact.

She didn’t even correct him when he called Remy “the blue rat thing.”

Something wasn’t right.

But no matter what he tried—kisses to her temple, fingers brushing hers, even gently tugging her hoodie sleeve to pull her closer—she didn’t lean in like usual. She just gave him that same flat, polite smile.

He eventually gave up.

—I think I’m gonna go for a run,— he said softly, standing by the door and glancing at her curled form on the couch. She didn’t look up.

—Okay. Be safe.— came her automatic reply.

Lando stared at her for a second longer, then nodded and slipped on his trainers. The door shut quietly behind him.

He didn’t run far. Just down the promenade, past a few yachts, the air warm and salty. He wasn’t really timing himself. He just needed to clear his head.

She hadn’t been like this in months.

Something had happened.

He pulled his phone from his pocket mid-run, just to scroll. Check messages. Maybe get distracted.

And that’s when he saw it.

Trending on Twitter.

“Cameron Boyce would’ve turned 26 today.”

Fuck.

It hit him like a punch to the chest.

Of course.

Fuck. Of course.

He slowed to a stop, heart still racing but for a different reason now. His thumb hovered over the screen. Her name was there, too, in the related tags. Old photos. Fan edits. Candle emojis.

Cameron.

He remembered how she used to talk about him. Like he was the sun. Like she couldn’t say his name without that soft tremble in her voice. Her best friend. Her first love. The boy who always reminded her to breathe when things got too loud. The boy she never really stopped missing.

Suddenly everything made sense.

The cigarette. The silence. The way she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Lando stood there for a long moment, hand on his waist, phone clenched tightly. Heart aching a little for her.

He had known this day would come. But he hadn’t known how much it would hurt to watch her go through it.

He turned around, already heading back toward the apartment, the run forgotten. All he wanted now was to hold her. To let her grieve. To not let her carry it alone.

Because she didn’t have to anymore.

Not when she had him.

-------------

liked by callumdayman, alexwolffofficial, and others

ameliedayman: always missing you my angel. happy 26th. see you in the next life. love you forever 🤍

View all 207,907 comments

elysiadayman: he’d be so proud of you sis. always with you 🕊️🤍 → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman love you

callumdayman: thinking of him today. love you → ameliedayman: @callumdayman love you always

maxfewtrell: sending you a big hug. cam would be proud → ameliedayman: @maxfewtrell thank you maxie 🖤

lanmeliesupremacy: crying because she never forgets him 😭🕊️ → dayman_doll: @lanmeliesupremacy she carries him with her always, you can tell 🥺

pitwallwitch: idc what anyone says, this is such a beautiful post. grief doesn’t expire.

landofanacc: and this is why i love her, she’s so real and grounded 🥹 → mclarenswifey: @landofanacc and strong af for sharing something this vulnerable

cryingoverlanmelie: the fact she’s still carrying him in her heart AND loving lando so deeply 🥲 it’s giving soul depth → lanmeliecentral: @cryingoverlanmelie she’s truly got that once-in-a-generation heart

ameliedaymanshines: reminder that cameron would be LIVING for her right now. movies. music. love. everything. → angelicdayman: @ameliedaymanshines fr he’d be first in the comments saying “that’s my girl” 😭

f1wagsunite: this post always hits so hard every year. grief is forever. so is love 🤍 → gridhearts: @f1wagsunite and she handles both so gracefully. cam would be proud. we all are.

alexwolffofficial: he’s got the best view up there. sending you love today, always

sunshines4cam: this post hurts and heals at the same time 🕊️ → melancholyamelie: @sunshines4cam grief posts like these are sacred. i cry every year

wags_unfiltered: watching her hold space for Cameron and love Lando just as fully? she’s a whole universe of a woman

georgerussell63: he’ll always be with you. proud of you always → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 thank you george

-------------

The sun had dipped low by the time Amelie finally peeled herself off the bed.

The bedroom was dim now, just the faint pink of the sunset bleeding through the curtains. She'd spent most of the day curled up in the same position, her cheek pressed to Lando's pillow, the scent of him clinging to the cotton like it was trying to coax her out of herself. Her throat was raw from crying earlier. Her head pounded. Her chest ached with that old, familiar hollow feeling. She hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved, really, except to let Benny crawl under the blanket beside her and purr against her ribs.

She was sure both cats had been watching her all day—little sentries of soft fur and big, worried eyes.

Benny had barely left her side, occasionally licking her knuckles like he knew. Like he remembered the last time she’d gone this quiet.

Björn had been more subtle. Guarding the door. Meowing once or twice like he wanted her to follow him. Scratching at the carpet outside the ensuite and then staring at her with those too-human eyes that always made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

They were still there when she stood up, legs shaky, hoodie hanging off her frame like a ghost. Benny meowed once from the bed, then jumped down and padded after her. Björn was already waiting at the threshold, tail flicking. She gave them both a tired, crooked smile.

—Alright, alright. I’m coming. Hungry little monsters.—

She didn’t expect to see him right away. She figured he might still be out, or maybe sulking in his sim room, giving her space. She hadn't deserved how kind he'd been this morning. She knew she’d shut him out, and it wasn’t his fault. None of this was.

But then—

As she stepped into the main hallway, her bare feet cold against the marble, she caught the faintest smell.

Tomatoes. Basil. Garlic. Her favorite wine sauce. The scent drifted from the kitchen like a memory, wrapping around her like a hug.

And then she saw him.

Lando.

On the couch.

His curls were damp from a post-run shower, and he’d changed into soft sweats and one of his old McLaren hoodies. His socked feet were propped on the edge of the coffee table, one hand resting on the throw pillow. The TV flickered with the soft glow of Pride & Prejudice—the 2005 one. Her comfort movie.

And the dining table?

Set for two.

Candles lit. Her favorite plates—the mismatched vintage ones she'd found at a market in Paris. A cloth napkin folded like he’d YouTubed it. Wine already breathing in the decanter. The big glass bowl of pasta still steaming.

Lando hadn’t noticed her yet. He was staring at the TV, brows slightly furrowed, lost in the movie like he was watching it for her.

Her throat closed.

God, she didn’t deserve this man.

She didn’t deserve the way he always knew. The way he never pushed. The way he’d come back from his run and done all this, quietly, just in case she needed it.

Amelie crossed the room slowly, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of his hoodie like she might fall apart otherwise. Benny hopped onto the armrest of the couch and then jumped to curl next to Björn. Lando looked up at the sudden movement, his eyes meeting hers.

And then she was climbing onto the couch next to him without a word, curling into his side like her whole body just ached to be close.

Lando didn't hesitate.

He opened his arms instantly, pulled her against his chest, and kissed the side of her head. —Hey, baby. You’re okay.—

That’s all it took.

The second his lips touched her temple, something in her snapped. Broke wide open.

A choked sob tore from her chest before she could stop it, and suddenly she was crying—really crying—all over again, her hands gripping his hoodie, face buried in his shoulder.

—I’m sorry,— she whispered between gasps, her whole body trembling. —I’m so sorry, Lan, I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just... I just couldn’t today, and I didn’t know how to say it, and then the stupid fucking Twitter post and I just... I missed him, and I missed you, and I didn’t know how to be without feeling like I was betraying him and I...—

Lando shifted without a word, gently pulling her fully into his lap like she weighed nothing, wrapping his arms around her tightly. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other cradled her head, holding her like he could keep her together with just his touch.

He rocked her.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Like she was something precious. Like she was breakable. Like he knew what she needed more than she did.

—I’ve got you, Ames,— he murmured softly. —I’ve always got you.—

She cried until the tightness in her chest began to loosen, until her tears quieted into hiccups, until her breathing slowed enough to speak again.

Lando didn’t say anything. He just let her fall apart and held her through all of it, his thumb brushing gently at the corner of her eye when she finally looked up at him, cheeks blotchy and raw.

She was curled into his lap like a child now, knees tucked against his thighs. The cats had both stayed close, Björn curled on the armrest, Benny purring at her feet like a guardian.

She sniffled. —You cooked.—

He smiled, soft and boyish. —Yeah. Hope I didn’t burn the garlic this time.—

She shook her head, voice small. —You set the table. With the Paris plates.—

—I Googled how to fold a napkin into a swan. Failed miserably. Ended up doing that fan shape thing instead.—

A small, wet laugh escaped her lips, and Lando’s heart squeezed.

She stared at him for a moment longer. And then she whispered, —You’re too good to me.—

Lando leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the space just between her brows. —I’m just trying to love you the way you deserve. Even on the hard days.—

She swallowed thickly, heart pounding. God, he was so sweet.

She couldn’t reject that. Not him. Not the food. Not the movie. Not the arms wrapped around her like she was home.

—Okay,— she said softly. —But you’re feeding me. I don’t have the strength to twirl spaghetti.—

Lando grinned, a dimple flashing. —Deal. But I’m doing the airplane noises like you’re three.—

Amelie groaned. —You’re so annoying.—

—You love it.—

—I really do.—

And for the first time all day, she meant it.

-------------

liked by callumdayman, alexwolffofficial, and others lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie were spotted taking a quiet walk around Monaco tonight after all the chaos of the weekend 🧡 he had his arm around her the whole time and they looked so soft… post-win glow and peace with his girl 🥹🌙 View all 66,982 comments

lanmeliesupremacy: she cried today and he still made her smile… soulmate behavior fr → simp4lanmelie: @lanmeliesupremacy i saw the vid of them laughing on the bench i SOBBED

mcclarenwives: she probably told him stories abt cameron while they walked 🥺 → lanl0ver: @mcclarenwives and you just know he listened so carefully and kissed her forehead after 😭

wagsunhinged: amelie in her wag wife era. lando better drop the knee soon 😭 → mrsnorris: @wagsunhinged she already got his last name on speed dial don't worry

camislilrose: he’s literally walking his girl through monaco like it’s a romcom i’m sick → lanfanbaby: @camislilrose she’s the main character AND the love interest bye

chaoticwags: nah bc this man won monaco and still said “my girl first”

monaqueen: the city of monaco seeing lanmelie hand in hand AGAIN like it’s tradition → zenzaddy: @monaqueen every year. same walk. different level of whipped.

chaoticwags: lando walking her thru monaco like he promised cam he’d take care of her 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags i’m actually not well rn. like this is soulmate coded fr

gridgirlies: imagine winning monaco and your gf still looks like the real prize → f1gfenergy: @gridgirlies no bc lando def stared at her more than the trophy

lanmelieforeverrr: that boy won monaco and said “now let’s go on a lil date” 😭 → quadwifey: @lanmelieforeverrr he’s just a baby boy in love i fear 😭🧡

f1baddie: cameron watching them from the stars like “yeah u did good kid” 🥹 → pastelpitstop: @f1baddie crying throwing up screaming. leave me alone

lanfanclub: he’s calm now but i know he was screaming internally every time she smiled 😭 → gridsideglam: @lanfanclub not internally he prob texted max “bro she smiled again” mid-walk 💀

f1mami: he held her bag. HE. HELD. HER. BAG. → monacoedits: @f1mami i know her love language is acts of service and he’s eating it up 💅🏼

maxfewstann: they’ve entered their domestic era and i’m spiraling → quadrantchaos: @maxfewstann one yacht party, one club makeout, one walk = MARRIED

-------------

The night had grown quiet, save for the rhythmic hush of waves against the shore.

After dinner, Amelie had insisted they go for a walk. No destination, no conversation—just hand in hand, slipping out of the house and down the stone path that led to the cliffs. The coastal air was cool and salted, brushing against their cheeks as the stars blinked into the navy sky one by one. Lando didn’t ask questions. He simply followed, her hand warm in his, thumb brushing the back of her fingers every few steps like he was checking she was still there.

Now, they sat on the old weathered bench near the edge of the lookout, slightly tilted from years of use, the wood creaking faintly under their weight. The ocean spread out before them in endless black and silver, the moon laying a path of light across its surface. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel small. Or maybe safe.

Amelie hugged her knees to her chest, chin resting on them, her fingers twitching where they overlapped. She hadn’t spoken since they left the house.

Lando glanced at her from the side, giving her space. His arm was stretched along the back of the bench, just close enough that if she leaned into him, he’d catch her. But she didn’t. Not yet.

She was staring at the sea like it had answers.

He waited.

It was a long time before she spoke, her voice small, almost hesitant.

—He used to love the ocean.—

Lando blinked, turning his head slightly. He didn’t say anything, just listened.

Amelie kept her eyes on the water.

—Cameron.— she clarified softly. —We'd go out to the beach after shoots sometimes. Even if it was freezing. He said the ocean made everything feel... less heavy. I used to think it was dumb, but now... I get it.—

Lando’s heart tugged in his chest. He stayed quiet.

—I’ve never really talked about him. Not like this,— she murmured, almost to herself. —Everyone either tiptoes around it, or looks at me like I might break if they say his name. And I didn’t want to burden anyone. So I just... kept it to myself.—

She laughed, bitter and dry.

—But it doesn’t stay inside. It leaks out. In little ways. The silence. The spirals. The days I can’t get out of bed. And I hate that. I hate how much it still hurts.—

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Lando shifted closer, but still didn’t touch her. He could feel her vibrating, like a string pulled too tight.

—I was nineteen,— she whispered. —Nineteen and in love with my best friend. And one day he was there, and then... he wasn’t. Just gone. Like the universe made a mistake and couldn’t fix it fast enough.—

She bit her lip, hard. Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight.

—I remember everything. The sound of the call. The way my mom dropped her phone. The screaming. The silence that came after. I remember being numb for weeks. Months. Smiling through red carpets like my insides weren’t ashes.—

Her arms wrapped tighter around her knees.

—He was the first person who saw me. Like really saw me. Not the actress. Not the singer. Just me. And I thought I’d never find that again. I didn’t even want to. It felt like cheating. Like if I let myself be happy without him, I’d be erasing him.—

Finally, she turned her head toward Lando, her expression crumpling.

—But then you happened.—

Lando’s breath caught in his throat.

—You showed up in my life with your stupid sim rig and your dumb jokes and your terrible British accent impressions. And you made me laugh again. You made me feel again. And I fought it, God, I fought it so hard because I didn’t think I was allowed to feel that way again. But I do.—

She swallowed, and for the first time since they sat, she leaned into him, letting her head fall against his shoulder.

—I love you, Lando. And sometimes that terrifies me. Because it means I've moved forward. It means I’m still here. And sometimes that feels unfair.—

He turned then, carefully wrapping both arms around her, drawing her into his chest until she was tucked beneath his chin. His voice, when it came, was quiet and steady.

—Amelie... loving again doesn’t erase him. Nothing ever could. And you don’t have to choose between honoring him and letting yourself live. He mattered. He matters. And so do you.—

Her fingers clutched at his hoodie.

—I’m scared I’ll forget him. That the world already has.—

Lando kissed the top of her head.

—You won’t forget. Not ever. He’s in everything you do. In your art. In your kindness. In the way you fight for people. He’s a part of you, Ames. And nothing... not time, not grief, not even love... can take that away.—

She let out a shuddering breath, eyes finally closing, the tears slipping free without resistance now. Lando held her tighter.

They stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just listening to the waves.

And for the first time in a very long time, Amelie didn’t feel like she was drowning in it.

She felt like maybe—just maybe—she could float.

[bbywhitefox123]

Summary: Cass Rhett vs. Twitch (ft. Drew Starkey and demon babies).

Warnings: idk none

Cass Rhett’s ring light was on, her mic was plugged in, and her Twitch stream had barely started before the chat was already spiraling into chaos.

“OKAYYYYY, hey babies,” she greeted with a grin, waving to the camera. “Welcome to my very first Twitch stream, and yes—before anyone says it—this is for charity, not clout. Kinda. A little clout never hurt.”

User: CASS QUEEN IS LIVE WTF

User: bro i’m donating my entire paycheck idc

User: play something SCARY cass cmon be real

User: someone said strip poker 😭😭😭

User: mod ban horny jail pls

Cass read the last one and snorted. “Y’all are feral. Someone said strip poker—this is Twitch, not OnlyFans. Behave. I got family watching. Maybe. I hope not.”

She leaned back, twirling a pen between her fingers. “Alright, chat, what are we doing tonight? Sims? Minecraft? Old barbie games? Weird anime games?”

The overwhelming answer?

User: HORROR GAME.

User: this new indie one makes grown men cry fr

User: FNAF BAICHHH

Cass blinked. “...Y’all hate me.”

Still, she downloaded it. “If I scream, nobody clip it, okay?” she said, already knowing she was going to get clipped a hundred times.

Twenty minutes in, Cass was full-on curled in her gaming chair, hoodie up, whisper-screaming.

“OH HELL NO. Nope. Nope. Why are the footsteps getting louder? WHO programmed this demonic shit?”

The chat was in tears.

User: this is content omg

User: cass is fighting for her life rn

User: someone said protect her 😭😭😭

At one point she slammed the pause button and stared deadpan into the camera. “I’m playing this for CHARITY. For THE CHILDREN. And y'all make me get hunted by demons and sweat through my hoodie.”

She unpaused. The second a jump scare hit, she shrieked, flung her mouse, and shouted, “I HOPE YOUR PILLOW’S HOT ON BOTH SIDES, YOU UGLY-ASS GOBLIN BITCH.”

It only made the chat love her more.

User:Cass Rhett needs to autition for scream queen.

User: her agent needs to get her on scream

User: PAHAHHAHAHAH

Cass clutched her chest like she was eighty. “I need a defibrillator. Or tequila.”

The horror game had her pacing in her chair like she was being haunted in real life. The chat was losing it.

User: girl's playing like her soul is on the line 😭

User: this is NOT chill-core streaming this is WAR

User: SOMEONE GIVE HER HOLY WATER

User: cass needs a priest not a new gaming setup lol

"I swear to God, if one more demon baby crawls out of a closet—" she hissed, jumping out of her seat when a door creaked open in-game. "WHAT IS THAT SOUND?? Is it breathing?? Oh my god it's BREATHING I CAN HEAR IT BREATHING—"

She paused the game again and turned to camera, dead serious.

“Why does this sound design go so hard tho? Like... y’all didn’t have to cook like that. Chill. Did y'all call Annabelle for the voice overs— shit feels too real.”

Then, as she reached for her Red Bull, her hands visibly shook. “If this game ends with me peeing myself on camera, we’re deleting this VOD and pretending it was a barbie game stream.”

The chat went in absolute flames.

User: not her trying to be cute

User: cass sweetie this game is eating you alive 💀

User: RAISE THE CHARITY GOAL SHE'S SUFFERING

Suddenly the monster lunged again, and Cass flung her headset off like it bit her.

“NOPE. NOPE. NOOOOOPE. I’m calling the pope. I’m calling my mom. I’m calling my therapist to come fight this demon with me!”

User: WE NEED DREW STREAMEATING CASS 😭

User: not you summoning your therapist to play demon tag

User: call drew starkey and get him in rafe mode. he’d punch the monster for u 🔥

Cass wheezed, laughing but still half-terrified. “Okay I swear to God next stream we’re baking cupcakes and talking astrology. No demons, no knives, no jump scares—just me being hot on camera.”

And yet… she clicked continue.

“I hate myself,” she muttered, adjusting her mic. “Okay, let’s go get murdered. For the kids.”

User: she's a mommy

User: The girlie can act. The girlie can game. And apparently, the girlie can scream in 4K.

User: omg she's so prettyyyyyy 😍😍

User: W behaviour

Cass screamed so loud the mic peaked, the chat glitched, and then — CRASH. Her chair tipped backwards and she hit the floor like a final girl in a slasher flick, her headphones flying across the room.

User: SHE’S GONE. GIRL DOWN. CASS R DOWN

User: clip it. CLIP IT RIGHT NOW

User: did the demon jump out the screen orrr?? 😭

User: chat is think they demon baby got her

User: game name????

Cass, yelled from the floor: “I’m suing. I’m suing the game devs. I’m suing Twitch. I’m suing Satan.”

Just then, the door burst open. Drew Starkey, barefoot, half-dressed in a hoodie and t-shirt, stormed in like he was about to fistfight a ghost.

“CASS?” he yelled, eyes wide. “What the fuck was that? Are you—”

He stopped when he saw her sprawled on the rug, hair a mess, one sock missing, her face frozen in a dazed panic.

“Joseph,” she said, dead serious. “There’s a child demon in that game and it breathes like a forty-year-old smoker.”

Drew blinked. “You fell out of your chair.”

“It lunged at me, Joey!” she snapped, still half on the floor. “It lunged with intention!”

User: WHATCIS MY HUSBAND DOING THERE?!?!

User: roommates?? COZY

User: the way she calls him joseph like he’s grounded

User: did drew just wake up to fight a demon for her i’m GONNA CRY

Drew walked over and grabbed her headset from the floor. “You okay?”

Cass held up a finger. “Emotionally? No. Mentally? Decaying. Physically? Also no. But I’m committed to this bit for charity, so get me something strong and help me back into that chair.”

Drew handed her the headset with a smirk. “You’re being dramatic.”

Cass slid back into the chair dramatically. “I’m a content creator, Joseph.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a menace.”

She turned to the camera, hair a mess, eyes wide, voice gravelly: “We're continuing, guys, the demon so did not got me. Joey’s gonna hold my hand though... so I don't swing at that ghost baby.”

Drew murmured from off screen: “Absolutely not.”

User: "joey's gonna hold my hand" 😭😭😭

User: SOMEONE GIVE THEM A PODCAST

User: if they don’t kiss by the end of this stream I'M suing twitch

Cass made the ultimate puppy eyes at him, voice dripping with innocence. “C’mon, play. It’s for charity, baby.”

User: GUYS ARE WE THIRDWHEELING???

User: they're so cuteeeeee

User: bitch don't look at my husband like that. LOOK AT ME

User: babyyy??? That's daddy

The chat exploded with heart emojis, some even donated so he would play.

Drew narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah, you can ask chat if you want,” Cass slid her chair over so he could see the screen.

Drew stared blankly at the chat scrolling by faster than he could read. “Where do I even look?”

“They’re calling you a boomer,” Cass laughed, barely able to hold it together.

“I’m 31!” Drew shot back, offended.

“My mom had two kids at 31,” Cass shrugged with a sly grin. “You can't even find the chat.”

User: Cassie roasting him live, iconic

User: someone give him his reading glasses lmao

User: I WANT HIM SO BAD

User: playyyyy

Drew sighed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he gave in, “Alright, fine.”

Drew looked around, hands on his hips. “Okay, but like… where am I sitting?”

User: ON MY FACE PLS

User: suddenly I'm a chair

User: JAILLL

Cassie gestured dramatically to her gaming chair. “Here, obviously. Throne's all yours, King.”

He raised a brow. “Nah, I’ll just stand then.”

Cass burst out laughing. “Joey, you’re literally crotch-level with the webcam. Chat’s only seeing your dick.”

Chat went feral.

User: THE ANGLE 💀💀💀

User: Cass be honest you planned this

User: Not Drew giving us free premium content 😭😭

User: "Throne's all yours, King" NAH THE THRONE IS IN HIS PANTS GIRL😭

Drew awkwardly shifted back. “Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll sit. Damn.”

Cassie smirked as she stood up so he could lower himself into the chair. “Much better. PG-13 achieved. For now.”

User: CASS I LOVE U PLS DONT GO BALD ❤️

Cassie stood up beside Drew, brushing her hands down her sweatpants like she was preparing for battle. She scanned chat, then looked down at him—her expression somewhere between amused and dangerously serious.

Drew glanced up at her like a lost puppy. “Okay, what do I do?”

Without answering, Cass picked up the headset and slipped it over his ears, adjusting the mic like she’d done it a hundred times. “Listen closely and be a good boy, Joey. This is sacred ground now. You do not touch anything unless I say so.”

User: WHO IS JOEY?!?!

User: call me good boy pls 🙏

“Okay?” he said, nodding cautiously.

User: THE POWER SHE HOLDS 😩

User: DREW LOOKING AT HER LIKE SHE'S GOD

User: not cass whispering commandments into his ears like it's the ten horror commandments

User: MOMMYYYYY

But of course, he immediately clicked the wrong thing.

“No—Joseph, what the fuck did you just—” She lunged forward, eyes wide as the screen flickered. “You almost ENDED the game. I’ve been traumatized for two hours, and you were about to reset us into hell.”

Drew lifted his hands like he was under arrest. “I was under arrest!”

Cass didn’t even answer—she just dropped down sideways onto his thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world, swiping the mouse from his hand with precision.

“I’m taking over,” she muttered.

User: ON. HIS. LAP.

User: She said: move, citizen.

User: CASS SITTING ON HIM LIKE SHE PAYS RENT THERE

User: Drew.exe has stopped working

Drew blinked. “You’re really just gonna—?”

“Shhh,” she whispered, laser-focused on the screen. “This is a one-woman mission now.”

User: RIP Drew's soul 2025-2025

User: He looks like he's being possessed and blessed at the same time

User: BONER ALERTTTT🚨🚨🚨

Cass didn’t even blink. She adjusted her position on Drew’s thigh like she was made to fit there, one hand expertly steering the mouse while the other hovered over the keyboard. Drew, on the other hand, was malfunctioning in 4K.

His hands were still raised in surrender, lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn't remember how to speak. The chat was absolutely feral.

User: THE MAN IS STIFF AS A BOARD AND NOT JUST IN FEAR LOL

User: cass please sit on ME like that 😭😭😭

User: someone go check drew's heart rate rn

Cass tilted her head, her hair brushing his jaw as she leaned forward toward the screen. Drew swallowed hard.

“You smell good,” he muttered under his breath.

Cassie didn’t even look at him. “I know, baby.”

User: OH SHE KNOWS?!?!?? THE POWER??!!??

User: that “i know” just punched me in the throat

User: cass rhett invented top energy istg

A particularly loud screech burst through the headphones, and Drew instinctively grabbed her waist like he could protect her from pixels and surround sound.

Cassie froze for half a second. Just long enough to feel his hands burning through her thin top. Then she smirked.

“Joey,” she said sweetly, “are you holding me because you're scared... or because I’m sitting on you?”

“…Yes,” he muttered, ears burning.

She leaned back against him a little more, arching her brow as she looked at the camera. “Charity stream’s turning into an R-rated movie real quick.”

User: girl be fr 😭

User: drew's soul just left his body, I saw it

User: IM SWEATING AND IM NOT EVEN THERE

User: are they trying to KILL us or??

Cassie finally beat the level—with one dramatic mouse click—and the game cut to a black screen. She smirked, twisting slightly to face him, now basically straddling one of his legs.

Drew's voice came out low. “That was hot.”

“Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head like she didn’t already know. Her fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt where it had ridden up a little.

He glanced at the camera. “We’re still live.”

She gave him the softest, most dangerous smile. “So behave.”

User: “so behave”???? im on the floor

User: cass is playing with FIRE and drew’s just letting her burn him

User: this is a softcore corn someone call twitch HQ

User: i swear if they date irl i’m gonna die happy

User: MOMMYYYYY

Cassie clicked start on the next level, the eerie music of the horror game creeping through the headphones. The dim glow of the screen lit her face, sharp and focused—until a sudden jump scare made her gasp, a small yelp escaping her lips.

Before she could even process it, her body instinctively shifted—she slid down a little more on Drew’s lap, pressing her back against him. His hands found her hips, steadying her gently, thumbs brushing slow circles just beneath her ribs.

User: YOOO WHATS HAPPENING

User: stop playing and start kissing already

User: this is the softest torture i’ve ever seen

User: her scared face??? kill me now she's soooo hot

User: MOM COME PICK ME UP IM SCARED

Cassie caught her breath, biting her lip as the screen flickered with shadows and unknown dangers. Every time the game made her jump, she moved closer, her body seeking the warmth and the pressure of Drew’s hands.

He shifted beneath her, his boner pressing into her. She could feel it—firm and demanding—and it made a slow smile spread across her lips.

“Joey,” she murmured, voice low, breath warm against his ear, “you’re distracting me.”

His hand slid a little lower, fingers hooking at the waistband of her shorts. “Just trying to help, Cass.”

Cassie paused the game and turned in his lap, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt, eyes glinting at him.

User: OMG THEY’RE TOUCHING *AND* TALKING

User: she’s definitely teasing him... and we’re all here for it

User: CASS IT'S ABOUT A CHARITY

User: i’m sweating so much rn

“If you want to help, maybe you should play.” She slid her hands off the mouse and rested them gently on her thighs.

Drew grinned, eyes sparkling with challenge. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Cassie leaned back against his toned chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through her top. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, steady and grounding as his dominant hand moved confidently over the mouse and keyboard. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of him behind her, his breath warm against her neck.

User: OMG THEY’RE SO CLOSE I CAN’T

User: drew’s got this smooth gamer vibe tbh

User: cassie’s just vibin’ on his lap and i’m jealous

User: stream turned into a cozy cuddle sesh realllllllll quick

Cassie’s fingers twined with his at her waist, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Every now and then, she’d lean into him a little more whenever a scary jump or tense moment came up on screen, her body instinctively seeking comfort — and maybe a little more.

Drew’s voice was steady, teasing, “Not bad, huh, chat?”

Cassie smiled, biting her lip.

User: grandpa's learning the lingo

User: MOMMYYYY and her good boy

Then she glanced at the chat, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Okay, guys, I see you — Joey, they’re calling me mommy.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I mean, I guess someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

She scrolled through a few messages aloud, her tone playful and teasing. “What’s Cassie’s secret to looking this flawless while screaming at video games? Honestly, just pure panic and sheer terror.”

User: lmaooo

User: stop gatekeeping bro

User: Drew is such a lucky boomer

User: film a skincare routine for yb pleaseeeee

User: that thigh seat tho, can we get a fanfic?

The chat was buzzing with heart emojis and playful comments as Cassie settled back against him, their chemistry lighting up the stream like pure electricity.

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #09 - Boy learns new things ☼

Who the actual hell calls a teen helpline at this ungodly, soul-sucking hour of—what is it—SEVEN. A.M.?!

...Wow. Not a morning person, huh?

No shit, Sherlock. I am five seconds away from committing a crime against humanity and whoever invented sunrise.

O-okay, well, just a gentle reminder—this line is meant to be a safe and supportive environment, so maybe we tone down the—

I WILL SEVER YOUR BALLS AND WEAR THEM AS A NECKLACE IF YOU EVER CALL ME THIS EARLY AGAIN, MR. FANCEH.

...That was... extremely vivid.

You think I’m joking? I once bit a guy for cutting me in line at Starbucks. I have the energy. I am the threat.

...I think that’s technically a felony.

So is waking me up with emotional vulnerability before caffeine.

Okay but like... are you okay?

NO. I was peacefully dead inside, scrolling through memes and emotionally detaching, and then BAM—phone rings. And it’s you. Sounding chipper. Like an unpaid golden retriever. Disgusting.

I’m here if you ever need help...

Then help me sleep, you little positivity goblin.

...I’m sorry, did you just call me a positivity goblin?

I did. And I stand by it. Also, I write slash Twilight fanfiction, so don’t test me. My mind is a dark, twisted place full of plot holes and emotional damage.

I—wait. Slash? Fanfiction? What is—

...Oh my God. You’re so innocent. This is adorable.

I feel like I just walked into a room and someone threw glitter and trauma at me.

Welcome to fandom, baby.

...It’s... seven in the morning.

And now you’ll never be the same. Okay, goodnight, I'm going back to sleep.

END OF CALL: 2 Minutes, 57 Seconds

Call Satoru Gojo?

Taglist:

@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose

[diagonal-queen]

Omg you're backkkk<3 I hope uni's going well for you!

Maybe the Hunting Dogs with a s/o who's kind of mean/petty?

Hunting Dogs with a mean S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are the Hunting Dogs with a mean and petty S/O?

♡ cw: Swearing, u r a BULLY >:((, dw it's pretty chill though, non-graphic NSFW with Jouno, teensy bit of NSFW with Tachihara, mentions of violence, crime and torture

note: ahhh hello yes i'm back! uni's pretty great actually. i love being able to tell people i go to law school lmao, it makes me feel smarter than i am. uhh but i've been swamped and a bit busy, and i'm going back home for a week so i might not be super active over the next couple weeks, i'm so sorry my babies </3 but i'll still be lurking in case you wanna chat! as always, apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

Mf you think he cares?? He hired Jouno and Tachihara because they committed crimes, and he's more than happy to keep Teruko around. Bro doesn't give a FUCK that you're mean

If you're dating Fukuchi you clearly do give a shit about the welfare of society and world peace, so your individual quirks are just that. Quirks

He will fully let you just be a dickhead sometimes, because...like, why not?

I feel like Fukuchi is obviously often a very intimidating individual who strikes fear and commands respect from everyone else. But you? You just walk all over him

In some ways for him it's probably kind of refreshing to have someone around him who doesn't idolise him at all, or look up to him as a superior. It gets exhausting, for sure. Sometimes he just wants to be humbled and that's so okay Fukuchi, you deserve it actually /mean-spirited and condescending

Don't get me wrong it's not like you're an abusive partner! You're still obviously nice to your partner and you love him, but you definitely don't go out of your way to sugarcoat things or try to avoid any necessary confrontations

And Fukuchi genuinely really respects that about you. He's pretty similar like that, though still definitely goofier than you

I mean he won't want you sitting around with an RBF when he's at formal events and whatnot, because that really wouldn't have the best impression, but he's usually very gung ho about letting you be yourself

You're lucky he loves you man...lmao

Jouno:

He loves it. Full stop.

You two are just sadist central over here. Like he'll be torturing a suspect and you're just watching. Bored. Not a care in the world

(Jouno, I don't think you're legally allowed to invite your partner to watch you do your job- much less one like this, but...eh...)

You two are always just talking shit about people to each other, and like when you're out in public on dates you're just whispering to each other and judging people T-T

Lowkey kinda gets turned on when you guys argue. He thinks it's hot when you get heated and angry. Usually it ends in rough "passionate hugging", and the pillowtalk is when you both actually resolve the issue (dumbasses)

He might even purposefully rile you up sometimes because mf is just THAT much of a horny degenerate. You guys can call him classy and gentlemanly all you want, but we all know he's secretly deranged

Like an angry, horny goblin with a knife...someone stop him

Tbh you should probably bully him a little bit every now and then. I think he needs to be taken down a peg sometimes

Hey, he's more likely to listen to you than Tecchou, isn't he? Besides, it's nothing genuinely malicious. Just couple's banter

Oh, you guys are fucking LEGENDS at the couple's banter. Though you never do it in public, because a lot of the times the things you both tell each other as jokes can come off as really cruel jabs

Nah your senses of humour are just not family-friendly (violent and malicious)

You guys have very strange ways of showing your love and affection. But, hey, it works for you and that's what's important :)

Tecchou:

Ah yes, arguably the least meanie of all of the Hunting Dogs. Yeah uh he doesn't really like you at first

Tecchou doesn't understand being mean just for the sake of it. I mean like, for Teruko, she uses it in her career, and Jouno is sadistic and weird and also uses it in his career. You're just petty because you can be

But the more time you spend together the more he realises that you're really not that bad- you're really just more of the loveable asshole type

An acquired taste, yes, but this is Tecchou we're talking about! That's his thing!

He learns to appreciate the things about you that many others would probably consider flaws. He influences you for the better definitely...

...BUT you also kinda make him worse

He will adopt your 'deal with it bitch' attitude sometimes, but it doesn't hinder his relationships or work so it's fiiiiine

(Jouno isn't a huge fan of it though...but at the same time he kind of respects you)

Tecchou probably won't admit it but he really likes to listen to you rant and bitch about people you don't like. He just likes to listen to you be angry about trivial things, he finds it equal parts endearing and entertaining

If you're mean to someone who deserves it? Well I mean...who is he to stop you?

At the end of the day you're definitely emotionally self-sufficient, so that's one less part of you for him to fret over. All's well that ends well or some shit idk

Teruko (platonic):

You guys are literally the best of friends

She's the loud fiery kind of mean and you are the 'I will straight up meticulously ruin your life' kind of mean

You on some r/nuclearrevenge type shit and she fucking loves that for you

Like she's fully willing to plot and scheme with you and do whatever mean shit you suggest. You two are menaces and she should absolutely not be a military soldier

Teruko WILL smite your enemies. And by smite your enemies I mean she will actively do what she can to ruin the lives of people you don't like, with absolutely no remorse (pretty sure she actually commits crimes to do this)

She LIVES for your cruel one-liners and clever insults. Every time she hears one she absolutely hollers

Teruko enjoys it when you're mean to the other Hunting Dogs (except Fukuchi). They can handle a couple bitchy words so it's not a huge deal, but she's just extra amused by it

For the record you're not *mean* mean, you're just...humbling them (which let's be real they could use from time to time (Jouno, again, looking at you))

Nobody is surprised by your guys' friendship really

You're a dangerous pair. Please stop

Teruko kinda likes that you hold grudges so frequently because she'll never tire of hearing you shittalk the same exact people and events over and over again

She'll shittalk them too

Dia doesn't approve of this friendship

Tachihara:

You guys know that scene in B99 where Jake says that he can't decide if he's scared of Amy or turned on by her and then decides that he's both? Yea, that's Tachihara with you

He is a good person at heart, and outside of his mafia gangster persona he's really not that mean, and as such he does not encourage mean behaviour. But like, when you do it? Mm...

Bro is WHIPPED

Lowkey he probably gets some of his mafia persona ideas from you 💀

His mafia coworkers have no questions about how you two get along, and they generally like you. The other Hunting Dogs have a few more questions

Tachihara isn't some shy, quiet introvert, but he is generally pretty chill and a nice person. They like to playfully tease him about how different the two of you are (though if it gets too far he knows he can count on you to rip them a new one with no issue)

Dw they still like you though! Especially Teruko

He has absolutely no problems with you for being cold and blunt. It's nothing he himself can't handle, and in some ways it actually makes talking to you easier

Again, I'll stress that you're not mean to him, you're just not the most lovey-dovey person out there. But you DO put effort in and that's what Tachihara cares about, even if it isn't in a stereotypical way

If anything else, you're certainly loyal!

Tachihara loves you for all of your different eccentricities, and he's also kinda turned on by them. Win-win? Win-win.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[3amfanfiction]

Meeting the Price Family

Part 2 to this

Hurt/No Comfort, MDNI, Dead dove fic. Please check the trigger warnings.

You and Simon have a surprise to show the Price family. They really have a picture perfect life.

cw: kidnapping, babynapping, implied torture, breast binding, stockholm syndrome, this is hurt no comfort folks, just like the last one. The brain goblins keep beating the war drums and the thoughts keep coming

~~~~

You thought everything was over when you realized you were pregnant. You're not sure why it was a shock; Simon didn't bother with condoms and the only time he pulled out is when he wanted to degrade you in some other way. So you were surprised when nothing really changed, other than for the better.

You're cautious as things began to shift. Simon was in no way nice but he was being more careful with you—physically at least. The day he dropped a bottle of prenatal vitamins in front of you without comment you wondered if you were hallucinating. Maybe he'd slammed your head into the headboard last night and this was all some sort of brain swelling fever dream.

When you commented on them he only grunted—not deigning to provide more information than that, so you took the pills. It seemed silly not to.

As the months progressed you noticed yourself feeling uncomfortably optimistic. The good moments were a bit more pleasant while the bad ones were easily brushed off—forgotten quickly. When you recognized the feelings you tried to beat them back, knowing hope would only wind up with you more hurt in the long run. But it was hard not to be a little bit hopeful when there's no more brutal couplings.

Simon hadn't choked you until you passed out or brought out his knife collection in the months since you learned of the pregnancy. The consideration he fucked you with played with your emotions, hormones no doubt helping that along. In some ways it hurt worse when he was nice to you. You never took Simon as the type to have a soft spot for pregnant women but at the end of the day if it saved you a bit of pain you were all for it.

The food was better too. While Simon hadn't necessarily withheld food before, it wasn't treated as anything more than a basic necessity, something to keep your body functioning and able to heal from the abuse he piled onto you. Now he was making sure there was fresh fruit in the fridge for if you get hungry between meals, smoothies to drink with breakfast, and a healthy mix of vegetables in the evenings. It was bizarre.

Maybe you were past the worst of it? You didn't know why being pregnant would have changed anything but maybe he realized he didn't need to be so rough with you. Your chances of survival were far increased if this was his new MO.

Over the next few months you tried your hardest but you were unable to keep from getting attached to the baby growing in your womb. This innocent little life had done nothing wrong and was the only thing still pure in your life. You didn't want to get attached—that's how you get hurt.

You knew it was over when you started calling them Charlie.

Never out loud where Simon could hear. No, only in your head where it was safe. And not all the time either. You were still trying your hardest to keep separated from this baby, nothing in your life stable enough to support a tiny human. But how could you be separate when it was your heart beating for theirs? Your lungs breathing for them? They needed you.

As you grew larger the separation disappeared further. You found yourself rubbing your stomach soothingly when they began kicking up a fuss swaying back and forth softly to rock them inside of you. You could imagine you were holding them in a nursery when you did this—walls painted a pretty shade of green or yellow, stuffed animals in the corners and murals painted around the windows.

Would you have told everyone or kept it a secret? As you got further along your stomach expanded rapidly. You certainly wouldn't have been able to hide it for the whole pregnancy. Would your friends have been excited or shocked when you told them? Would you be a good mom?

You cried in a heartbroken panic when you realized you were imaging holding and nursing them once they were born. This was going to destroy you.

\\\

Simon didn't say anything the day he caught you talking to them. The baby had been doing loop-de-loops and had tied your stomach into queasy knots. Rubbing a hand along the protrusion you soothed, "Shh shh, you're okay. There's no need for all that," —soft, calming— "You need to be nicer to me while you're in there bub, we're in this together, the two of us."

When you looked up you saw Simon staring from the doorway where he had stopped on his way past, caught by hearing you talk in such a soft voice. You freeze, waiting for him to say something about being soft or to make fun but he never does. Just looks at you before continuing down the hallway, footsteps as silent as the grave.

Maybe everything is going to be okay. It will never be good, not as long as you're kept here but maybe it will be okay.

The optimism grows ever so slightly, deep within your chest.

\\\

Looking at your newborn you felt shell-shocked. They had been inside of you for months, kicking your ribs and squishing your organs, and now you were holding them. It didn't feel real.

You had a little girl.

Her birth last week had been rough but ultimately uneventful. It was a home birth of course—just you, Simon and another man he called Garrick. While it lasted for most of the day it was worth it for the baby held in your arms.

You had just pulled her off your breast when Simon told you you were going to meet the Captain and his Darling.

" 'S time they met it," he said dismissively, eyes glancing at your baby before moving back up to yours, "we'll be leavin' in an hour."

You worried about this change in routine, certain nothing good will come from it. You haden't left the house before, Simon kept you firmly caged in all matters and you never thought you'd be longing to stay rather than to leave.

You couldn't see any way out of what was to come so you decided to make the most of it. Maybe this was going to be your chance. Your chance to get away from him and find safety for you and your daughter. Maybe you could tell his captain how deranged Simon was—some of the horrible things he'd done to you. Surely his captain would help.

Wouldn't he?

You didn't have enough information to be making concrete plans so you shifted them to the back burner. Moving into the bedroom to clean up, you dressed your baby in one of the three outfits she had, clothes you'd begged Simon for before she was born. Once done it was time to leave.

\\\

It's a beautiful house you pulled up to, deep in the countryside. You hadn't passed another building for over an hour when it finally came into view, tucked into the shadow of a mountain with trees sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see.

It was a couple who greeted you, standing on the porch with a toddler. The little boy was perched in his father's arms, a stern-faced man with a truly impressive beard. The woman at his side was beautiful, dressed in a sundress with her stomach arching prominently in front of her. She smiled kindly as you walked up, leaning into her husband's side where he had his free arm wrapped around her waist.

The man introduced himself to you as John and at his wife's wide-eyed look tells you her name is Darling. She gathered herself quickly and smiled softly at you, welcoming you to their home.

"And this little munchkin is William," John continued, jostling the toddler slightly to make him laugh. His baby blue eyes swallowed his face, causing him to look downright angelic as he giggled and hid his face in his father's broad shoulder, smiling shyly towards you.

"Well, no use standing on the porch, come on inside," he turned to open the door, ushering Darling in first before stepping back to allow you and Simon through, smiling at you warmly when you pass. The crinkle around his eyes made him even more attractive than before.

Their home is warm and bright, windows letting in light from all sides with no curtains to block the beautiful view. You and Simon are guided to the living room where two sofas face each other, a comfortable well-worn recliner holding court over the room where it was tucked into place down at the end.

You took a seat on the inviting sofa, shuffling the baby into a better position against your chest; luckily she's fast asleep at this point so there's no fussing to be found. Smiling as Darling brings you a drink, you took a sip before setting down the glass, leaning back comfortably and cuddling your baby.

John and Simon immediately jumped into discussion which faded into background noise in your mind once you realize they aren't likely to be asking you any questions just yet.

You find yourself watching Darling, now holding William, perched across from you. Her and John look happy together with their eyes never straying far from the other. Darling sits poised next to John, returning each smile he frequently sent her way. His arm rested along the back of the couch, hand placed on Darling's neck, rubbing comforting circles into the skin.

Occasionally as he and Simon talk, he'll reach across with his free hand and rub it soothingly over her stomach, basking in her pregnancy. Or he'll brush a hand over William's hair who is fast falling asleep on his mother's shoulder.

You wonder if this is what your life would have been like, if you had never met Simon. A loving husband who was interested in being a father and adored his wife, a beautiful house in a quiet area. It felt idyllic.

As the time continues, William grows fussy. "It's past his nap time," Darling apologized, a distressed look crossing her face at the interruption to John and Simon's talk. As the toddler began to flail more forcefully, his little fist grabs the neckline of Darling's dress and pulls downward sharply, causing the fabric to lower along the front giving you a health view of her full breasts. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the light blue ropes criss-crossing her skin.

They flowed along her curves, stunningly beautiful in their artistry if not for the angry skin glimpsed between the coils.

It was clear that while this rope harness was for aesthetic purposes that had not been the case in previous instances. If you had to guess you'd say Darling's breasts had been bound tightly, crushed to the point of cruelty. Shiny rope burns traced the swollen skin, creating an alternate pattern below the blue rope. You noticed that the burns looked to be about a week old.

The thought of being bound tightly enough to cause marks like that at the same time as you were nursing sent a wave of horror through you. It seemed you got your answer on whether or not to try and get help today.

Darling noticed her dress sagging and quickly pulled it back up, an embarrassed look on her face as she straightened the neckline, making sure everything was covered once more.

You looked at the two of them in a new light as you realized Darling was in the same situation as you. Different nuances perhaps but the same bones. It tugged at something inside you, something you thought all but gone by now. It's hard not to compare your situations, wondering which is worse; Simon at least is honest in his pursuit to hurt you but John feels much more sinister.

You tuned back in as John began to tell Simon about William's diet, "When it came time to begin weaning him, it was quite the undertaking. You'd think we were trying to kill him—the way he carried on at not being allowed the tit at all times of the day and night. Although," John chuckled sardonically, "I certainly can't blame him," reaching up he dragged the back of his fingers over the curve of Darling's breast. "I'd love to stay attached to Darling's tits all day too. It's one of my frequent daydreams."

Darling doesn't so much as lean away from John's stroke, conditioned to accept all of his advances you realize, trained away from flinching. It curdles your stomach and makes you want to cry when you realized you probably look the same way from her end.

Simon rolled his eyes, well used to his captain's quirks, "You and your tits, cap."

\\\

You felt awful for thinking it but John seemed to be a good father considering the circumstances. Nothing like Simon. He was holding his son, rocking back and forth as he softly rubbed his back, the sweet faced boy's eyes drooping shut, each blink lasting longer than the last.

To no one's surprise he was out cold within the next few minutes, John excusing himself to lay the toddler down in his crib.

Darling waited until he got back before she asked him if she could hold the baby, only turning to see if it was okay with you once he gave his approval. With an uncomfortable nod you pass your child over to her, transferring carefully, reluctant to let her out of your grasp.

The way she cooed at your baby with a soft smile settled something in your chest, causing you to smile back when Darling looked up at you to tell you she was beautiful.

John moved closer, peering at her over Darling's shoulder. With a smile he reached out to let her grasp his finger, chuckling when she tried to pull it into her mouth.

"She's a strong grip," he said to Simon approvingly.

Simon looked smug, "Of course, came from me, dinnit?" he boasted.

This was the first time he'd looked proud of her in any way. He was normally more than happy to ignore her and let you handle everything to do with her. It was weird seeing him brag to his captain as if showing off.

"Do you think she's going to take after you or Doll here?" John continued, waving her little fist around where she's still holding his finger. The baby gurgled in delight at the attention.

"I hope my ugly mug won't make it another generation," Simon groused, taking a sip of his beer, "Doll's got the looks between us, so here's hoping."

John hummed in thought, still looking at the baby. You almost said something when he began lifting her arms and legs, wondering what he was doing. "Healthy, I hope."

Simon huffed, "Did you have any doubts, sir?"

When John laughed and shifted back from your baby you found yourself relaxing slightly, breathing easier now that it was only Darling interacting with her once more.

The next half hour passed quietly with Simon and John carrying the bulk of the conversation except for the times they would direct questions to you or Darling. You noticed subtle indicators you had missed before—missed because you weren't looking for them. You saw the way Darling sat with her spine perfectly straight, as if she'd been trained to be presentable at all times. You saw the way she always deferred to John, never speaking first. The way John's hands possessively trailed along her skin more moments than not highlighted the covetous nature now that you were looking.

Before you realized it Simon has finished another beer and stood with a gruff, "Time to go, pet," directed towards you with a nod of acknowledgment towards John and Darling, still holding the baby.

You nodded your head, ready to leave this home that is as much of a prison as yours is simply with prettier walls. Standing, you gathered your things before moving towards Darling, ready to take your baby back. She smiled at you and rose to meet you after one final cuddle and forehead kiss, the resulting coo causing her to blink back brief tears.

You didn't think anything of it when John stands as well until he placed a hand on Darling's shoulder and said, "Sit back down, sweetheart."

With a quicksilver confused look thrown your way, she lowered herself carefully back onto the couch after a moments hesitation, baby still cradled in her arms and tucked close to her chest. You can see from where you stand that her breath had begun to match yours, coming slightly too fast. It was never a good thing when something unexpected happened.

John took a step to the side, moving directly between the two of you, cutting off your line of sight to your child. He planted his feet and crossed his arms over his big barrel of a chest, watching you, assessing.

You turned to look at Simon for help, unsure of what was going on but not liking it in the least. He didn't bother to reassure you, watching you as you struggle to put the pieces together, mind shying away from what you already suspect.

"I don't understand," you tried, grasping for straws. Simon's expression didn't change.

"Don't start being difficult now, you'll embarrass me in front of the captain and his missus," he deadpanned unaffected by the whole situation. "You'll be leavin' 'em, pet. The prices are going to be raising it."

What?

You stared at him uncomprehendingly as your brain spun. The Prices? Raise your baby? But it's your baby, not theirs. You turned to look back at John but he was a stone wall—no emotions played out on his face. Swallowing the saliva building in your mouth you turned again to Simon, "but that's my baby."

With an annoyed huff he began moving towards you, reaching out and taking a firm grip of your upper arm.

"Not repeating myself, pet," he grumbled, "it's time to leave."

Nonononono

You pulled away from him, trying to get closer to Darling and your baby, "That's my baby, give me my baby!" you yelled, breath coming in pants as sweat prickled your skin, adrenaline began to race in your veins in preparation to take your baby back.

"Give her back!" —jerking violently in Simon's grasp you clawed towards where you could see Darling peeking around John's broad frame, wide-eyed and panicked, gaze darting from you to John in stress, biting her lip until blood began to pool around her teeth.

Your baby began to cry in the commotion, screams setting off every instinct in your brain to get to her but you were held fast, unable to get a single step closer. You watched as Darling shushed her, bouncing slightly in an effort to soothe her.

You're not doing it right, she likes when you sway not bounce flashed across your thoughts as this woman tried to comfort your child.

You sounded like a harpy at this point, your screeches echoing harshly as you pulled and squirmed, fists beating against Simon as you tried to get free.

Simon soon lost his patience and physically moved you, pulling you into place in front of him before he wrapped his arm around your windpipe, squeezing harshly, restricting blood and oxygen both.

The last thing you saw before your vision went black is John standing behind Darling who had stood as if to come to you, hands pressed on her shoulders. Likely both in support and to keep her in place. Darling had your baby pressed to her chest, tears running down her face from horror filled eyes while blood streamed from her bitten lip.

You were still reaching for Charlie when everything went dark.

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[thistlerock]

The Bad Kids Are all multilingual because hey dnd characters always are. Fun to think about. Update from later Fabian kinda hijacked this post at the end my bad. All I can think about is the character ™️

Fabian and Adaine speak a different dialect of Elvish than Fig but like it's still the same language. I'm not sure what Kristen and Riz would have learned — maybe Kristen the wood-elven dialect and Riz the high one? Cause people who would have maybe influenced church camp vs what Riz might have gotten in some elective at school or learned by himself via dictionary like the nerd he is. But maybe not that relevant, I don't think it makes too much of difference.

Gorgug writes most of his notes in Gnomish. And while all of the Bad Kids kind of do it because, well, multilingual moment, I think Gorgug does the thing the most where you're talking and you're like what the fuck is this word in English. Uhm. Uhm. Scheibenwischer. And he speaks the one language that none of his friends speak so they're all just idk man you're on your own. Also personal hc Gorgug starts learning Orc (Orcish?? Dnd languages so straight forward and yet so confusing to me.) after meeting his bio parents. Riz also knows Orc and I'm gonna assume Ragh would so um green bonding time. Also also personal hc Goblin and Orc are similar in the way German and Dutch are (I can only go off of languages I know so this is gonna be my only example. Lmao.) because yeah.

Anyway Fabian is I think the one who mixes them up the most on purpose. You know how teenagers in non English speaking countries will inject random English into every sentence because internet. And it's just a thing now. Fabian does this over in Kei Lumenera with the other elves and common (common being English just for clarification). He's fluent in elvish it just doesn't feel right man. BUT. SPEAKING OF HIM BEING FLUENT IN ELVISH. His accent in it is very distinctively Solesian and you can only hear a little bit of Fallinel in certain words. Which isn't that big of a deal but it's notable. Because Hallariel doesn't sound like that and she's the one who taught him. Let me word. Eugh.

She was obviously very. Negligent. But I think that up until Fabian was like, idk, three or four? He did spend a lot of time with her. Like she wasn't taking care of him or doing anything with him but he'd be in the room with her as long as he wasn't being "bothersome" (normal kid "annoying". crying, loud, needs help with everything. etc.) because then Cathilda had to come and get him. But she would talk to herself a lot and/or rant about things little baby Fabian really had no chance at understanding lol, and it's not like she wanted him to respond. But this would be in elvish because it's her native tongue, and because kids are sponges he learned elvish. They didn't raise him multilingual on purpose it just happens. Side note i think she talked to him in the womb a lot I do. There is something to me about her focusing a lot on this child until he was born / until he started becoming a proper person. (It was so easy to love him when he was just a part of her and wasn't a separate entity that she needs to actively try to pay attention to what who said that that's. Crazy.)

So yeah Fabian is fluent as a kid, but then as he gets older he really doesn't have an opportunity to converse in Elvish for years, so he. Forgets a little bit? And he'll still read stuff in the language but he doesn't speak it with anyone until the Bad Kids start to use it for secrecy reasons (which I actually think is really funny and inefficient because I'd assume this is one of the more common second languages in solace. But I digress.) And at that point he's conversational but gods he's rusty, but between Gorgug not understanding it all, Kristen's being super broken, and Riz clearly only knowing it through reading/writing and having trouble with pronunciation because this isn't a language he's used to speaking it's not that noticeable? Idk. Adaine probably clocked it but didn't think much of it.

It comes back to him pretty quickly, (and by Sophmore year he has no trouble in Fallinel + probably started speaking more elvish at home again now that his mother is kind of talking to him and Gilear is there) it's just that now his accent shifted. (And it's still the language he feels the least "at home in" or comfortable speaking. It's common -> halfling -> elvish for him. I think.) (Yes I know that his wiki says he also knows tornado. I think he understands it but can't speak it. I don't think he can make the required sounds I'll be real.)

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Part 3: Blood Traitor

A March 2025 Hinny Microfic for @ginnystrophyhusband using Prompt 18

841 words (back on brand today!)

All the March prompts that I write will be set in the same universe as, and form a prequel to, this fic. Hopefully they'll all stand alone, but they'll also form a little story of their own, which is why they're numbered.

Fair warning - it's going to be fluffy!

Read them all from the beginning on AO3

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

It’s a bit of a shock for Bill Weasley to learn that his baby sister intends to move in with her boyfriend. 

She’s not even nineteen yet. Barely out of Hogwarts, clutching a respectable set of NEWTS and with the ink still wet on her contract with the Holyhead Harpies (another thing that Bill can’t quite get his head around, quite frankly). None of it seems… possible? Right? It just isn’t sitting well with him. Ginny’s too young. Too precious. Too everything. 

The fact that his own wife was only a year older when they got engaged is neither here nor there, of course. 

Neither is the fact that he’s known Harry Potter for years—not just the legend but the boy himself. He seems a good sort, even without the whole ‘saving the world’ business. 

But still; it’s the principle of the thing.

At least Harry’s had the good sense to ask for Bill’s help with the wards on the house. Never mind being one of Gringotts top curse-breakers, you don’t survive a war when you’re part of the biggest family of blood traitors out there without being bloody good at protective enchantments. Bill prides himself on it.

He’s pleased that Harry takes it seriously, but maybe that isn’t a surprise, after everything he’s been through. Bill’s only too happy to meet him at the new cottage to lend his expertise to the endeavour, because it means a bit of time alone with him; time to have a little chat, one-on-one.

He’s got this whole speech planned. You know the sort of thing; the one where he explains just how much his baby sister means to him. How special she is. Exactly what he’d do to anyone that hurts her. Bill can be pretty intimidating when he wants to, he knows this. It’s a vital skill when you’re dealing with goblins day in, day out. He’s sure he can impress his point on Harry.

The first thing he notices is the cottage itself. It’s actually lovely, solidly built, facing out to the grassy sand dunes and the beach beyond. It’s an unusual choice for a first home for someone Harry’s age, he thinks; Bill had expected him to want to stay amongst the bright lights and diversions of the big city. 

He remarks as much to Harry when they meet just outside the gate, once they’ve exchanged greetings, but Harry just shakes his head.

“Nah. Ginny’s happiest in the countryside, so it’s a no-brainer really. London’s great, but I’m there every day for work, and I can visit when I want. Plus, I’d rather have a bit of peace and quiet, so it suits both of us, I think.”

Bill nods, sagely. “Is there much to do inside?”

Harry pulls a face. “Yeah, quite a lot. I’m going to move in next weekend, even though I’ll basically be camping here, but it means I’ll have more time to get the work done. I want it to be perfect before Ginny moves in.”

Satisfied, Bill turns his attention to the wards that are already in place. He’s impressed; Harry’s actually done a pretty decent job with them, they’re far more complex, and more comprehensive, than anything he’d expected. Certainly nothing that would be covered at school.

“This is good work,” he comments, though he’s puzzled. “I didn’t think they covered protective enchantments in first year Auror training.”

“Oh, no. They don’t,” Harry explains. “We used some of them to hide our tent while we were on the run. The rest I researched in the Ministry library.”

Bill hadn’t been expecting that. “You taught yourself how to do all this?” he asks, wondering if he’s misunderstood. It’s a huge amount of work, and would have taken a lot of time and perseverance. 

Harry looks a bit sheepish. “Hermione helped me practice, but it had to be done.” He sighs. “The fact is that I’ll always have a target on my back, one way or another. That’s just something I have to live with. But I won’t put Ginny in the firing line. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, to keep her safe, then I’m going to do it.” 

There’s a fire in his eyes as he says it, a determination and an honesty, and all of a sudden, Bill wonders what on earth he was worried about. It couldn’t be clearer just how vital Ginny is to Harry, that she’s his first and most important consideration, and really, what more could any big brother want? 

His carefully crafted speech now seems more than a bit superfluous, ridiculous, even. So, just like that, he lets it go, melting away to the breeze off the Atlantic.

Instead, he turns to Harry with a smile. “Well, there isn’t that much more I’d recommend adding, but there are one or two extras that I think would be useful. You can help me cast them, if you like.”

“Great!” Harry’s expression is earnest. “I’d really like that.”

“Me too,” says Bill. And he means it.

[lanternfeather]

as the world falls down

chapter 1

arcane x labyrinth au, goblin king sevika, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader has depression and an abusive family, escapism, kidnapping, fae & faeries, strangers to lovers to enemies, no smut in this chapter but will be present eventually

synopsis: Desperate for relief from what your life has become, you return to the comforting fairy tales of your childhood. Your words summon the Goblin King, Sevika, who arises from the mists of nothing to fulfill your every fantasy. You soon realize that your wish isn't actually what you truly desire.

read under the cut

also on ao3

It wasn’t often that you came home from work feeling as bone-tired as today. Only on the most miserable, busiest nights where every other customer sent back their food or gave you a lousy tip did you slam the apartment door shut and slide down it, boneless, to land in a heap on the floor as you did now. Your feet and back ached; your forearm throbbed from where a too-hot plate had burnt you as you balanced it. The left-on-read texts on your phone hadn’t made the night better either. 

Mom: We should go on a diet together 😊come over next weekend, I raised you from a baby and you can’t even bother to come visit?

Sneaky link 👀: sorry babe, can’t make it tomorrow, something came up :/

Classic. Your insane, guilt-tripping mother and your disappointing situationship always managed to send you the worst messages on the worst days. You rubbed your temples, agitated. The only merit of this horrible night was that your godforsaken roommates were out partying, leaving you blessedly alone to cry and rot in bed as usual. 

Your long, boiling hot shower did nothing to help your mood. It was supposed to relax you, but instead you found yourself thinking too deeply about how you got here. After college, the job market had dried up right as you graduated, leaving no feasible opportunities in your field. You had moved around quite a bit, chasing meaningful employment and burning a hole through your savings account as your student loans accrued interest. Despite countless job applications and interviews, no positions in what you actually wanted to do had materialized for you. 

Giving in to heavy cajoling and false promises from your family, you moved back to your hometown about a year ago, supposedly so they could “be there for you” while you figured your life out. They had seriously tried to convince you to move back in with them, and even though it would have saved you money, the arguments, belittling, mockery, and emotional neglect of your childhood had left much too deep scars on you to ever agree to that. And yet you still felt tied to them- your narcissistic, controlling mother, your spineless father who complied with everything she said, your brother who was clearly the favorite child and who had subjected you to cruel bullying, the two disgusting crusty white dogs- tied enough to them to keep answering their texts, keep acquiescing to surprise phone calls, keep suffering through family dinners under the premise of “catching up” but often turned into endless criticism of your failures. Sometimes you thought you may have inherited your father’s spinelessness when you contemplated going no-contact with them but ultimately kept submitting to their demands, just because you held onto the tenuous hope that maybe someday they’d be proud of you for something. That finally you’d do something right in their eyes. 

Despite your misery- or perhaps because of it- you had stagnated, working your wretched restaurant job and scrolling job listings but doubting that you’d actually secure anything better. You kept settling in all areas of your life. Your roommates sucked, but at least they left you alone. Your situationship was unreliable and unsatisfying, but at least it was better than being alone. Your apartment was a shithole, but at least you had a place to live that wasn’t with your family. Your days passed in a meaningless stream of working for shit tips, feeling a crushing obligation to your family, and pervasive learned helplessness.

The only bright spot came very late at night, after your bedtime ritual, when you curled up in bed and reached for an old, cracked book tucked away in your nightstand. The dust jacket was ripped and constantly falling off, a few pages were stained, and it was extremely well-loved. The cover bore one word: Faeries. This, your most prized possession, had been your constant companion since you had unearthed it at a yard sale when you were very young. Growing up in an abusive household had turned you into a child whose head was always in the clouds, lost in escapist fantasies of happier places. All the stories and legends in this book were shining and comforting, but what you loved best were tales of enchantment, ones where lost youths stepped into fairy circles or accepted a dance from a charming stranger, and were whisked off to fairyland, forever unable to return to the human world. You knew these stories were meant to be cautionary, but living out your days in decadence in a fairy court had always seemed worlds better to you than your reality. 

The only exception, your absolute favorite, had a different ending. It told the legend of a young girl, who, hurt by the harsh words of her stepmother and tired from a day’s work, accidentally called upon the terrifying Goblin King and wished her infant brother away to the land of the goblins. Yet, when the girl realized her mistake and pleaded for her brother back, the Goblin King only challenged her to fight her way to the castle at the center of his labyrinth. The Goblin King presented her with a fantastical, charming land, one that he believed would live up to her expectations and make her happy. But the girl was strong and brave, and saw through the seductive glamor, finding her inner strength to challenge the Goblin King and take back her freedom. You deeply admired the girl’s ability to assert her own power and change her life. You knew it was just a story, but still you read it over and over, committing the words and illustrations to memory. 

Tonight, you began to cry as you read it. You so desperately wanted to be stolen away to a perfect fantasy world, yet your desire for agency warred with the thought of becoming a fairy’s plaything. But you cried all the same, feeling your soul ache with the need for something to change. 

Your bedside lamp was low, your bed was plush, and rain pattered against your window, but you felt anything but cozy as you bundled yourself up tighter. Hugging your stuffed rabbit close to your chest, you read the girl’s words over and over, mouthing them silently to yourself. I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now. My will is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me. Aloud, you read the words from the page, but changed to echo your own feelings- “Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, take me far away from this awful place!”

In another land, another time, silver eyes opened out of darkness. One small candle fluttered to life. Where there was once the void, a castle began to arise, simultaneously newborn yet old as millennia. From nothing, something wakened. 

You could not deny your deep exhaustion anymore. Eyes still blurred with tears, you set the book on the floor and turned off your light. Your head swam with the illustrations from your book. The goblins. The crystals. The miles of stone labyrinth. The poisoned peach. The piercing eyes of the Goblin King. Right before sleep took you, you felt yourself barely conscious muttering something that seemed to come to you from very far away.

“I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away… right now.”

As you slept, you were filled with a sense of fear yet longing, relief yet anxiety. You dreamed of ravens fighting against your window, ancient ruins threaded with deep, dark magic, and gleaming silver eyes.

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[vettelsvee]

TILL WE MEET AGAIN » Chapter 1 (Part One)

❝ They were just two kids who didn’t want to play at being adults. Two best friends who dreamed big and who wanted to know what might happen if, one day, they really did fall in love, like their parents had… and it all ended up breaking apart. ❞

Series Masterlist | City of Stars Universe Masterlist

📚 SERIES SUMMARY: Just two best friends since they were babies that decide to take the next step on their relationship even they know they’re taking a huge risk, and even they know that’s what exactly might be the end of it all ↳ 📖 CHAPTER SUMMARY: During 2000 Christmas Eve, Sebastian and Diana realize that everything is changing and that, maybe, it's time for their relationship to change too 📓 TROPES: Friends to lovers, right person, wrong time 🗓️ SETTING: 2000 - 2008 📌 TAGLIST: @myescapefromthislife @padawanoftheyear @wherethezoes-at

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© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

📍 Heppenheim, Germany 🗓️ December 24th, 2000

The warmth that radiated from the Vettel residence on Christmas Eve was the same as always, but that year, things felt a little different. Or, at least, that’s how she felt.

The scent of cinnamon, baked apples and roasted almonds, mixed with the aroma of the turkey still roasting in the oven, blended perfectly with the soft lavender air freshener that was always used during the holidays. The Christmas tree stood in one corner, perfectly decorated by Sebastian and Diana though now, Declan, her three-year-old younger brother, was busy removing the ornaments from the lower branches.

The laughter of Rosalie Wagner and Heike Vettel, along with spontaneous toasts made with half-filled wine glasses, warmed by the fireplace alongside their husbands, Bernhard and Norbert, was the cherry on top of a night that, like every year, held great promise. As if that weren’t enough, Stephanie and Melanie, the hosts' older daughters, had brought their boyfriends for the first time, who now couldn’t stop laughing and swapping horror stories about hockey games and the ugly, matching Christmas sweaters the girls had made them wear.

Unaware of everything happening in the distant living room, Seb and Di had escaped to what had recently become their private hideaway: the attic. The fading neon lights, still hung from the slanted ceiling, though they’d both promised to replace them with warmer ones. The floor was covered in pillows and rugs, offering as much insulation from the cold as possible. In one corner, there were countless toy cars—mostly Formula 1—and of course, plenty of Michael Schumacher ones. The German legend wasn’t just Sebastian’s idol, but his mentor, and the guy really tried not to be a show-off about that but, honestly, with his best friend felt impossible, and she completely understood.

The blond boy sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a Spider-Man comic. The redhead lay on her stomach beside him, chin resting on her hands, eyes alternating between her best friend and the improvised Christmas tree they had crafted out of plastic. It was their way, they had said, of making the space feel more welcoming in case of visitors.

“So… what do you think of Julian and Tobias?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Diana’s question pulled him from the all-too-familiar scene in the comic, where Spidey fails to save Gwen Stacy from the Green Goblin. He liked the drama of it all, unlike his friend.

“Your sisters’ boyfriends,” she clarified, rolling over onto her back and staring at the ceiling, hands still resting on her stomach. “They’re nice, but… I don’t know. A little weird, maybe?”

“I like them a bit,” Sebastian shrugged, setting the comic aside. “Tobias is kind of boring. He talks a lot about taxes, and honestly, I have no idea how taxes work. And Julian… he’s loud and gets overly excited sometimes, but last week he brought me donuts when mom said I wasn’t allowed any more sweets, so that makes him even better.”

Diana giggled.

“It’s just… they used to hang out with us, you know? My sisters, I mean,” Seb explained. Di nodded slightly. “Steph used to play with me all the time, and now all she does is fight with Mel over who gets to call their boyfriend first and laugh at their jokes. And they’re not even that funny.”

“They’re everything but funny, really.”

“But your mom says it’s normal, you know?” he went on. “That when people grow up… it’s normal to start liking boys and girls in a different way. And to, like… kiss, go on dates, and whatever else they do.”

“My mom really told you that? Gross.”

“Super gross.”

They both laughed, then fell into a comfortable silence. Outside, it had started to snow, and for a few minutes they focused solely on watching the snowflakes fall, like powdered sugar dusting the rooftops.

“Do you think we’ll ever have boyfriends and girlfriends too?” Diana asked suddenly, her voice soft, not looking at him.

“Well… I don’t know. Maybe? But I don’t think it’ll happen for a long time. Like, years and years.”

“Yeah, true,” she nodded. “Besides, we’re way too young for that stuff.”

“Plus, we’ve got each other. We don’t need having boyfriends or girlfriends.”

Diana and Sebastian turned to face each other at the same time, their eyes locking. They both laughed shyly at the way they seemed to think in sync, something that still surprised them from time to time.

“Sebastian Vettel and Diana Wagner, best friends forever,” she declared with a grin.

“Forever,” he echoed.

They bumped fists and smiled, falling into a hug that felt like making, once again, the most important promise of their lives, a promise they didn’t yet know would someday be broken, at least partly, by both of them.

They pulled apart with a jolt when the attic door creaked open. Little Declan stumbled in, nearly tripping with each step, clutching a brown teddy bear that belonged to Seb. His sister had the exact same one, only hers was white.

“Didi…” the sleepy boy mumbled.

“Aww…” Diana said, standing and opening her arms so he could snuggle into her. “Come here, little bug.”

Seb watched in awe as Diana tended to her brother. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her act like a big sister, but this time it felt… different. Like something was stirring in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. When Declan’s head dropped onto her shoulder, already half-asleep, and she began to hum a lullaby, gently rocking him, Seb felt like an intruder in a perfect moment, one he didn’t realize he was a part of.

He stood up carefully, trying not to make a sound, and quietly opened the door. He glanced back one last time at his friend, who had managed to lull the boy to sleep in mere seconds.

“Coming down?” Sebastian whispered.

“In a minute, sorry…”

He nodded and left her alone, wondering as he headed down to the heart of the makeshift party why Diana had apologized. Knowing her as he did, she probably felt bad that Declan had interrupted them, but what could that little boy have interrupted, other than a hug that certainly wouldn’t be the last between them?

Sebastian shook off the thought, trying to insert himself into the conversations around him and, more importantly, attempting to make sense of his future brother-in-law’s notoriously bad jokes. He didn’t really start to relax until Diana came downstairs and explained she’d tucked Declan into the guest room bed so he could sleep peacefully.

He set his glass of Coke down on the table and made his way over to her to continue their conversation, but her mother beat him to it:

“Come hang out with us for a bit. Heike and I would love some girls time with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Heike chimed in from the kitchen doorway. “You’re one of us now.”

“We need someone with a young spirit so we don’t feel ancient,” Rosalie added, glancing at the older Vettel girls, who were now laughing at something Sebastian had just said. “Do you know how dangerous it is when two moms watch their kids grow up and don’t have anyone else to take care of? Worse than your dad getting drunk with Norbert.”

Diana chuckled at her mother’s comment and let herself be pulled into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, right between the two women, who kept sneaking glances at each other, their lips curling into quiet, knowing smiles.

Heike served her a cup of hot chocolate with a splash of cold milk, a combination the young girl loved to drink every time she visited her best friend’s house. When she handed it over, Di mumbled a “thank you” with a mix of shyness and comfort.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown this year, Didi,” said Rosalie, brushing aside a loose strand of hair that was covering the girl’s eyes. “It feels like just yesterday you were learning to walk and chasing after Seb, who had just learned to walk too. And now you’re trying to chase him down when he’s out with the kart…”

“I honestly don’t know how Seb hasn’t run her over yet,” Heike added. “Let’s just hope that never happens.”

Diana simply smiled, her cheeks turning red as she took a sip of the chocolate. It was the first time she’d felt so comfortable yet so oddly out of place during a conversation with her mother and her best friend’s mom. Sure, she was used to chatting with them, but something about this moment felt different.

It was as if everything had changed, and yet, nothing had. Not in her 12 years of life, which just happened to be the same number of years she’d known Sebastian.

Rosalie, who knew exactly what was going through her daughter’s mind, kept an eye on her from over the rim of her mug. Then, after several minutes spent searching for the right words to draw her out, she chose a topic she knew was one of her daughter’s favorites, if not the favorite.

“You and Seb are really close, aren’t you? You know… with all the girls nowadays starting to get boyfriends…” She glanced at Heike, who already had a pretty good idea where this was headed. “You two were already inseparable, but lately, you seem even more so.”

Diana nodded.

“Of course we’re close. Seb is my best friend, he always has been. That’s nothing new.”

“The kind of friendship you two have is really special,” Sebastian’s mother chimed in. “You’re both growing up so quickly, and together. It’s wonderful to have someone by your side going through the same things. I’m not sure if that makes sense…”

Diana shook her head slightly, but Rosalie sighed and nodded right away.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’ll still be this close when we’re older,” Diana admitted.

Heike and Rosalie exchanged a look, the kind only mothers who knew their children, and each other’s children, inside and out could share.

“Well…” Heike began, searching for the right words. “People change, of course. That’s just part of life. But that doesn’t mean the love between them disappears. It just… changes a bit. Sometimes, your best friend becomes someone you laugh with every day…”

“Or sometimes, they become someone you exchange holiday and birthday cards with once a year,” Rosalie added gently.

“And sometimes, they become something more if both are brave enough to take that step and risk it all.”

Diana didn’t know what to say. She felt her mother’s hand on her back, a quiet gesture of comfort. She tried to process the women’s words, searching for some hidden meaning, but couldn’t quite find one.

Were they talking about her and Seb? Were they implying that one day, they might only talk once a year? Or… become something more than friends?

No, that was impossible. She couldn’t date someone like Seb. She couldn’t date her best friend like Seb’s older sisters did with their boyfriends.

Like… did she even like Seb?

She tried to shake the thought from her head, literally, hoping it might help somehow.

“What matters most is being kind to each other. And patient,” her mother added in a near whisper. “Life… has a funny way of surprising you. Just when you think it can’t anymore… it does.”

At that moment, Rosalie excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving Heike and Diana alone. The girl smiled quietly, toying with the handle of her mug, head bowed. Heike smiled too, leaning closer with a sparkle in her eye, imagining a few heartwarming possibilities she’d love to see come true.

“Between you and me… Seb is totally smitten with you. You know I saw him let you win at Uno last week?”

“I did not let her win!” came Seb’s voice from the hallway, followed by the laughter of his father and Di’s, who were heading toward the porch.

“Di cheats!” he added.

“I do not cheat!” the girl yelled back, even louder.

Sebastian didn’t reply because the truth was that he had let her win. At Uno. And at Monopoly. Even a few months ago, while prepping his kart for a race, he let her try it out only for her to crash on one of the first turns. Diana had tried to confess the truth to Norbert, but Seb stepped in first and lied, saying he thought it was a good idea to let her try it, but forgot to hit the brakes because she was saying really funny things.

Norbert Vettel knew he was lying. But he couldn’t bring himself to be angry because every time he saw Seb with Diana, all he could see was pure happiness, the one real love only showed.

Outside, he handed his son a cup of hot chocolate which, unlike Diana’s, was nearly cold and had far less sugar. Bernhard leaned on the porch railing, sighing contentedly as he sipped from his cup of milk with cognac.

For a few minutes, the three of them stood in silence, watching the snow fall.

“You know, I don’t know wh, but it feels like Christmas was different when I was a kid,” Norbert finally said, drawing closer to his son and wrapping an arm around him. “Back then, I spent the whole year looking forward to this time. Now, it seems like you all only get excited in December, and maybe November, at best. What do you think, little man?”

Seb shrugged, glancing at his father with a puzzled look, not entirely sure what he meant.

“I don’t know… I still get excited about Christmas. It’s just that…”

My sisters have boyfriends, and it’s weird that everything's changing, he thought but held back from saying it aloud.

“I guess this year just feels a bit different. Maybe that’s why I don’t seem as excited,” he said instead, fully aware of where his father was going with this.

“It is different, kid,” Bernhard said, his eyes drifting toward the window, where he could see the rest of the Vettel family, along with his wife and daughter.

Norbert took a sip of his drink, then looked back at his son.

“The thing is… you’re growing up, Seb. And you’re starting to notice things. People changing. Families changing. Watching your sisters with their boyfriends who, let’s face it, are strangers that are now part of your life…”

“That’s what’s weird, yeah,” the boy admitted in a whisper, tracing invisible shapes on the ground with his foot.

“Being weird doesn’t always mean it’s bad. It just means it’s new,” said the Wagner patriarch kindly.

“It’s just… I don’t want things to change.”

Sebastian’s confession was full of doubt and fear. He was used to a life with structure: family, karting, school and the Wagners, especially Di. Now, with his sisters' boyfriends added to the mix, and everything seeming to shift, did that mean new people might start joining Diana’s family too?

Did it mean that, just like his sisters, Diana might one day have a boyfriend?

“I remember feeling the same way when I was your age,” Norbert said, pulling Seb out of his intrusive thoughts. “But change doesn’t mean you’re losing your life, it means you’re growing, in every single way. Mel and Steph still love you, and they always will even if all they seem to do now is gush over those two idiots.”

“Besides, it’s completely normal to miss your short-lived past,” Bernhard added with a hint of sarcasm, something more than characteristic of the man, “but that doesn’t mean you should be afraid of what’s coming.”

Seb remained silent for a few seconds, letting out a sigh.

“Di has told me stuff like that a few times, about how we’re growing up and all that…”

“She’s a smart girl. You can tell she’s my daughter.”

“She always says things that make sense, even if they bother me,” Seb said with a faint smile.

The hours passed, and after dinner, filled with all kinds of conversations about everything and everyone, the ground floor turned into an impromptu dance floor. Alcohol, laughter, and music only kept building. Heike and Rosalie had ditched their heels and were dancing in the center to Queen, while Norbert and Bernhard tried (and failed) to hit Freddie Mercury’s high notes while playing with Declan. Meanwhile, of course, the older Vettel daughters were deep in wordless conversations with their respective partners.

Seeing the scene, Sebastian and Diana decided to slip away once again to the attic without explanations given, but not that anyone seemed to notice.

Both of them collapsed onto the pile of blankets and pillows still on the floor, exhausted from everything Christmas Eve had brought. They had probably eaten too much, and heard things that maybe twelve and thirteen-year-olds shouldn’t be hearing, but none of the adults had bothered to correct themselves or apologize.

For several minutes, neither of them said anything. Instead, their breathing gradually synchronized, saying everything that needed to be said. Diana had her head resting on Sebastian’s chest, while he gently ran his fingers through her red hair, holding her as if she might vanish at any moment.

It was the boy who spoke first, his voice quieter than usual:

“Hey, Di…”

“Yeah?”

She sat up carefully, and he silently cursed himself for breaking the physical contact. Before continuing, he sat up too, turning his body so they were face to face.

“Do you ever think about, like… having a boyfriend?”

“You mean in general or… us?” Di asked hesitantly, stumbling over her last words, unsure where the question was even coming from.

“I don’t know, I guess… both,” he replied, fiddling with the edge of a pillowcase. “It’s just weird, you know? My sisters have boyfriends, and earlier I overheard our moms talking about growing up, changing and all that…”

The redhead thought for a moment. She stayed quiet.

“Yeah… My mom says that too, that as people grow up, they start to feel different things.”

“What I don’t get is why. Why can’t things just stay the same? I don’t know… just being best friends forever and that’s it,” said Sebastian, a little frustrated.

“Sometimes it just happens… friendship turns into something more. Or at least that’s what they say.”

Di gave a shy smile, lowering her gaze. She could feel her cheeks turning red, and her eyes slightly misty. She couldn’t let Seb see her like this —so vulnerable, especially when there was no clear reason… apparently.

Instinctively, the blond boy reached out and gently held her chin, making her look at him. At first, Diana avoided meeting his eyes, but all it took was him softly saying her name, and their gazes locked.

“And… would that be a bad thing?” he asked gently, nerves tightening his voice.

“No,” she replied almost immediately, her voice barely audible. “At least… not if it’s with the right person. I think.”

They separated again, falling back into silence. Seb stared in awe at the colorful lights. He counted, they blinked and changed colors every fifteen seconds. Diana tried to calm herself, slipping back into her usual self. She grabbed the blanket they always used and draped it across their backs, curling up beside him not because it was cold, but because it felt right to know they were each other’s refuge when everything else felt so confusing and uncertain.

“Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to have a girlfriend.”

Di sat up slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you thinking about someone in particular? Or do you just think it’s cool to have a girlfriend?”

“No! I mean no, not really,” the boy stammered, his face flushing red. “Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re supposed to do when you’re someone’s boyfriend. Are you supposed to buy them stuff? Hold hands all the time?”

“I think it just means being nice,” Diana chuckled. “And… talking to them, making them laugh… I don’t know, being with them like they’re your friend, except you kiss on the mouth.”

“Well, I already do that with you. Except for the kissing part, obviously… we don’t kiss on the mouth.”

Her smile faded a bit. That meant it was her heart that heard those words, not her ears.

“Yeah… right,” she murmured.

“Would it be weird if you were my girlfriend someday?” Sebastian blurted out, not even thinking.

Di didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him… maybe in a way she never had before. She realized she knew more about him than she’d ever imagined knowing about anyone, and cursed herself, because deep down she knew this was only going to grow.

Seb, meanwhile, was calm. The flush on his cheeks had faded completely. His eyes now held a curious, hopeful look, like he was about to say something totally crazy.

“I don’t think it would be weird,” Diana finally said. “I think it would be… normal. I don’t know, like something that was always meant to happen.”

A smile crept onto Seb’s face, lighting it up entirely.

“Come on, let’s stop this conversation. We’ve got more important things to do,” the girl interrupted, shaking her head.

“Like what?”

“Like beating you at Monopoly. And finishing the Lego spaceship I gave you for your birthday that you still haven’t built. And sneaking all the leftover cookies before our parents notice.”

“Well, we better get started then. We’ve got plenty of time before school starts again.”

Diana scooted closer and, without warning, took his hand. Seb lay back down beside her, still holding on, and they both stared once again at the flickering lights. Time passed, but neither let go not out of fear of what the other might think, but out of comfort, out of a quiet dream that this might be the start of something new between them.

“So… what would happen if we did it?”

Seb turned his head on the pillow toward her. Instinctively, he squeezed Diana’s hand a little tighter. She noticed, but didn’t protest.

“Did what?”

“Started dating,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “You know… if we did it now.”

The silence that followed her words wasn’t awkward, but comforting. It gave them both time to reflect, to understand the weight of that question, which felt bigger on the outside than it did in their hearts.

“Now… like right now?” Seb asked, hesitating.

“Right now, yes,” she confirmed.

Seb's heart did a strange little flip.

Sure, he’d felt excitement before, like winning a race or acing a German test, but this confession, this proposal, felt far deeper than any victory that could be repeated after a failure.

This was something that could completely change his friendship with his best friend, the one he’d had, quite literally, since the day she was born. It was a risk, one that, if it didn’t turn out the way they hoped, could come with serious consequences.

Just like it did, a few years later, when they made the decision not as a childish game, but as a bet they knew, even if only slightly, they might lose.

Sebastian looked at her gently, trying to read her expression. Diana didn’t seem to be joking, and she wasn’t blushing either; the only thing he saw in her was honesty and, more than anything, curiosity.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do,” he admitted at last, genuinely curious about what might come from all this. “If we start dating, I mean.”

“Me neither,” Di replied, finally daring to look him in the eye.

“Are we supposed to do something different, or…?”

“I don’t think so,” the redhead said quickly. “I mean… we’re already together most of the time and we talk about everything. Oh! And you always know when I’m mad or sad, even when I pretend I’m fine.”

“And you always leave me the last cookie or the last slice of pizza or whatever even when I know you really want it,” Vettel added.

“See? We already act like we’re dating,” she said with a smile.

They both laughed at the comment, and somehow, that laugh made everything feel lighter. They were less afraid now and, somehow, everything felt more real.

Seb gently let go of her hand and turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head on his palm. He couldn’t stop looking at her, and, if he was honest with himself, she looked even more beautiful now than ever, though he’d always known she was beautiful for as long as he could remember.

“But… if we say we’re dating, won’t it sound kind of weird? Won’t things change? I don’t know… what if we start acting strange around each other?”

“I don’t think so,” Diana replied. “At least, not unless we make it weird.”

Seb studied her face again. Now, it was her features that had all of his attention: the freckles sprinkled across her nose that she claimed to love and hate in equal measure. Her wavy hair —somewhere between chestnut and red— being a clear inheritance from her mom, which she swore she despised despite his constant reassurances. She always said that as soon as she convinced her mom, she’d dye it blonde and find some treatment to make it completely straight. And her green eyes… eyes that had pushed blue into second place, because no shade could ever compare to the one he loved seeing every day. The one that made him feel so alive.

“I don’t want to mess this up, Di…” Sebastian whispered, still admiring her.

“Me neither. But… I want to try. I really want us to try.”

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words to avoid ruining this beautiful, special moment, one that honestly didn’t feel so different from the romantic scenes in those movies his sisters always watched. Movies that, somehow, now didn’t seem quite so annoying.

“So… um… would you like to be my girlfriend?”

For the first time that night, Diana wasn’t afraid to look directly at Sebastian. Her eyes sparkled, maybe from the tears threatening to fall, or maybe from exhaustion. Either way, Seb knew whatever his best friend —his almost girlfriend— was feeling was real. Very real.

“Yes. I’d love to be your girlfriend, Seb.”

Seb blinked a few times, then smiled that goofy smile of his, the one that always made Diana laugh. And, of course, this time was no different.

“Okay, so now you’re my girlfriend.”

“And you’re my boyfriend.”

They both laughed, hearing those words coming from their own mouths. The truth was, they weren’t exactly sure what they’d just done, or what would come of this little experiment, but they were sure of one thing: that someday, they’d be proud to have been each other’s firsts.

“Just so we’re clear, if you stop letting me win at Uno, I’ll break up with you,” she added, trying to make him laugh. And of course, she succeeded.

“I can’t promise anything, girlfriend…”

They both laughed so hard they ended up on the floor, tickling each other, their laughter loud enough to be heard downstairs, where the Vettels and the Wagners began speculating about what their kids were up to without getting really anywhere close to the truth.

Eventually, the two gave up, lying next to each other, wrapped in a hug, their hearts full. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or just the excitement of seeing where this could go, but their curiosity only grew stronger.

They didn’t kiss.

They didn’t even say anything overly romantic to reassure each other, because there was no need.

They were just two kids who didn’t want to play at being adults. Two best friends who dreamed big and who wanted to know what might happen if, one day, they really did fall in love, like their parents had… and it all ended up breaking apart.

Maybe that was the problem, that they thought too much about it. That they forced it to go smoothly.

Because, nine years later, when they were a real couple, that was exactly what left them with nothing but a broken friendship, a lost soulmate, and love still in their hands but no one to give it to.

At least, not to the other.

[milesluna]

2024 GOTY Write Up

In 2024 I got a full time job for the first time in four years, and you know what? It turns out you don't get to play as many video games when that happens.

And yet, I persisted. I think there was a common theme among my favorite games this year, and it's that I had to meet many of them on their terms. Yes, some whisked me away from the moment I hit start, but overwhelmingly I found myself really clicking with these titles when I paused, reconsidered how I felt the game wanted me to play, and adjusted my pace to meet their intentions.

This year's write up is a bit rushed, but I got it in just before the buzzer! I hope you'll enjoy. If any of you ever want to talk about these games, you know where to find me.

Before we get started, here are my Honorable Mentions:

Crow Country - If a survivor horror game was also a cozy game that ALSO made you laugh.

Batman: Arkham Origins - A gritty origin story where Batman has an ARC?! And he’s kind of a DICK?! Let’s GOOOO!!!

Sonic x Shadow Generations - It's the best Sonic game ever made. Full stop.

Shenmue - A time capsule of a game with disastrous ambition. Both ahead of its time and utterly wrong in what it assumes everyone wants from an open world experience. I love it. Sea of Theives - The perfect game to enjoy with your morning coffee or evening edible. Relaxing if you want it to be, harrowing if you want it to be.  

Now…

My Top 5 Games from 2024

#5 - Astro Bot

The best Nintendo game of the year was made by Team Asobi for the PlayStation 5, and baby it’s Astro Bot. There is delightful imagination and a surprising level of polish covering every pixel of this adventure. In fact, I think it’s surprise that winds up being Astro Bot’s greatest strength. Each main stage introduces a novel mechanic that must be mastered, boss fights feature multiple phases that often turn the literal world on its head, and secret challenge stages leave players with nothing more than their basic move set while demanding a level of mechanical precision that would make Super Meat Boy blush. There is no filler in Astro Bot, only a tangible love for the art, science, history, and joy of video games.

#4 - Dragon's Dogma 2

Like Death Stranding, Dragon’s Dogma 2 is a game that thrives on friction. Traversing the world is genuinely treacherous and requires careful planning before leaving the (relative) safety of a city or village. Maybe you think you can save some time and resources by spending money on a fast-travel wagon, only for said wagon to be attacked by a gang of goblins… and for that fight with goblins to be interrupted by giant griffin that will pick you up and carry you across the kingdom before you’re able to wrestle out of its talons. When things go wrong on your adventure, and they WILL go wrong, the systems and possibilities spring to life. If you pay attention to your surroundings, though, and listen closely to the many hints the game drops for you, you’ll survive… if only just barely.

#3 - Balatro

I think Balatro is going to be my exercise bike companion for quite some time. This silly game of poker hands and multipliers makes time melt away, almost alarmingly so. I’m actually hesitant to call the game “fun”. “Hypnotic” feels more appropriate. The looping, otherworldly soundtrack, spiraling background, and floating UI elements all seem tailor-made to pull players into a dreamlike trance, and boy oh boy do they succeed.

#2 - UFO 50

Goddamn, what a triumph. UFO 50 contains 50 full-length games that would’ve shared shelves with Super Mario Bros or Dragon Warrior back in the 80s. Just about every prominent genre of that era is represented in this collection, from Shmups to JRPGs. I think my favorite aspect of this game is how it makes you more aware of your own gaming proclivities. Everyone I know who plays this game has a different list of favorites; a different game that “made everything click”. For me, that game was Bushido Ball - a surprisingly complex title where samurai play soccer. Every title only requires the use of 2 buttons, every title has its own “historical lore”, and every title - no matter how obtuse or challenging it seems - is excited for you to uncover its secrets and achieve victory.

#1 - Helldivers 2

Helldivers 2 had a well-deserved moment in the spotlight when it first launched. It was a perfect storm of fun that managed to convince players to fully buy into the world of the game and had them gleefully shouting “FOR DEMOCRACY” over and over again. That is an impressive thing to do. I’ll never forget the days when TikTok was filled with “wartime footage” backed by Creedence Clearwater Revival while players urged one another to “join the fight” as if freedom actually depended on it. Then that honeymoon phase passed. But you know what? Helldivers 2 is still my go-to game when I’m looking to have fun with friends within a matter of minutes after sending out the call on discord. The game manages to feed your explosion-fueled power fantasy and SECONDS LATER humiliate you by flinging your worthless corpse halfway across the planet. When I win in Helldivers, it often feels like I barely managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. When I lose in Helldivers, I laugh. Every time.

And now…

My Top 5 Games NOT from 2024

#5 - Dragon Quest XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age - Definitive Edition S

I fear JRPGs. I know myself well enough to be wary of most games that consider 10 hours of playtime an introduction. However, I’m currently experiencing a very unique moment in my life wherein I’m leaving my beloved home and venturing out into the larger world for an adventure. Perhaps that’s why the Dragon Quest XI demo called to me in a way it never had before. I’ve enjoyed spending about an hour with it before bed every night, chipping away at it slowly and letting it charm me with its characters and story. Earlier this year I would read chapters of the Dragon Ball manga before bed, now I feel like I’m finally experiencing life inside of one of Akira Toriyama’s worlds. Since I started playing a few weeks ago I’ve put about 13 hours into Dragon Quest and have only just had the full world map revealed to me. Rather than feeling my usual level of intimidation and disinterest, I find myself excited to see where this adventure will take me next.

#4 - Resident Evil 2 (1998)

A few years ago I finally realized that Resident Evil is my favorite long-running video game series, with the RE2 Remake firmly positioned as one of my favorite games of all time. Replaying the original RE2 over a long weekend was a blast of an experience I won’t soon forget. This campy, pixelated puzzle box of a game managed to get a few genuine jump scares out of me and plenty more smiles. The famous ink ribbon save system was so effective at repeatedly forcing me to ask myself “Can I check just one more room? IS the risk worth the reward?!” As I slowly peeled away the mysteries of Raccoon City, I realized the game I held in my hands was a perfectly tuned, mechanical mouse trap (copyright Umbrella Corp).

#3 - Assassin's Creed: Ezio Trilogy

Outside of AC2, I never quite jived with this franchise, but this year I went through my typical phase of simply wanting to exist in a video game world… and Italy called to me. What happened next, I never could have expected. I devoured the Ezio Trilogy. I had forgotten about the days when “open world games” were significantly smaller and simpler, and by god did it make me realize how much I miss those days. Despite presenting a story with more than a few grating characters and a plot that loses the… plot, these three games made me fall in love with Ezio. It isn’t often you get to spend time with a character from the moment they are born to the moment they die. Ezio’s death and his reflections on his legacy brought actual tears to my eyes. The most interesting legacy of all, though, was the one being forged by Ubisoft at the time these titles were originally released. Seeing video game sensibilities evolve over the course of these three games, for better and for worse, was a fascinating experience.

#2 - Red Dead Redemption 2

You know how I said I like existing in video game worlds? This game world is the best. RDR2 was my hunting and fishing simulator for a few weeks, and then I figured I might as well finally try to finish it. I used to hate how slow this game felt, and then I realized the game was begging me, PLEADING me to slow down. Arthur Morgan and his friends are all running out of time, and there is a wonderful moment when the player and Arthur both realize that the time they have left is more valuable than anything else they have ever chased after in the shrinking West. There’s not much else I can think to say about RDR2 other than that it lived up to the hype. I look forward to returning to it as John Marston from time to time for years to come.

#1 - The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess HD Remake

I started the year rekindling my love for the WiiU. It’s one of my favorite consoles and there was no better game to bring me back to it than the Twilight Princess HD Remake. I feel like these days there are four types of Zelda games. There are the DS-style games (that nobody likes). There are 2D Zelda games, my favorite of which is Link Between Worlds. There are the two Immersive Sim Zelda games, Breath of the Wild being my favorite of the two. And finally, there are the Puzzle Box 3D Zelda games… and this year Twilight Princess officially dethroned Ocarina of Time as my favorite. Again, this is a game I enjoy simply existing in. It is bursting at the seams with interesting characters, both big and small. I adore the art style and music. I adore the melancholy tone. And (coldest take in the universe) Midna is THE best Zelda companion to ever grace us with her presence. According to my save data, I’d tried Twilight Princess twice in the past and both times I made it to the Water Temple and bailed. Back then, the game just felt like it was trying to be Ocarina. Little did I know that as soon as you emerge victorious from Lake Hylia, the game takes on an entire new personality of its own. And I fucking love it.