#or starting to draw ch7 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaythes1mp · 1 year ago

Text

4826 words, 27475 characters, 269 sentences, 122 paragraphs, 19.3 pages

All done in one night🙏 it’s 7:50 am and I haven’t slept, so if you don’t like this I might cry bro

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You quietly opened the classroom door, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible as you creep inside. You scanned the room, holding your laptop close to your side as your eyes darting around the space with slight panic. Your heart racing from the exertion of running from across campus to get here. Thankfully the professor hadn't started yet and your friend, who already sat near the back of the room, gives you a knowing glance. You give him a sheepish smile as you make your way through the rows of desks to him.

"You cut it a bit close this time." He gives you a cheeky grin. "I made it here though, didn't I?" You retort.

He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the professor clearing her throat at the front of the room, signalling class is about to begin. “Mister Wayne.” She warns, her calculating eyes boring into Tim’s frame. He sits up straight and gives her a sheepish smile.

You have to bring a hand up to muffle your laughter. “Mister Wayne.” You mock quietly, whispering so no one other than the boy next to you could hear.

He felt the eyes of the other students on him like burning hot plates, the majority of them were either envious of him or thought he was an entitled prick.

Of course the professor would call him out for talking when you were the one who ran in late.

Tim couldn't help but smile sheepishly as he was chastised, he had heard your quiet snickering behind. There was this fuzzy feeling in the back of his head at the thought that you were laughing because of him. He had made you happy. He could rub this in Damian’s face later.

The longer class went on the further and further consumed into your little project you got. You had finished the assignment for your criminology course a few days ago, not that Jason was aware. Instead occupying your time with your side hobby. You had over four thousand people following your reporters blog online and it earned you some decent cash. Now far too invested in the lives of the vigilantes of Gotham to really think about anything else. It didn’t help that the people you surrounded yourself with were all geniuses, so you couldn’t rely on them for help even with vague questions as they’d figure out that you’re the author for Blüdhaven’s top trending reporting blog. Maybe Dick could help you, he doesn’t portray himself as the smartest tool in the box when it comes to these things and he won’t ask too many questions.

Your train of thought is cut off as you feel the end of a pen dig into your side, glaring over at Tim.

He kept the pen pressed to your side, not at all being gentle about the small jabs as he tried to get your attention, silently gesturing to you to pay attention to the damn class, not whatever you were doing on your laptop. He’ll have to bug it, seeing as you’re not using your phone as much anymore.

You grimaced when you felt the pen being jabbed into your side again, a silent command to pay attention to the class and stop messing around on your laptop. You rolled your eyes and shot a glare at your friend, who was giving you a pointed look.

You begrudgingly closed the device, knowing that Tim would find other ways to get your attention if you didn’t stop being distracted. You sigh and silently resign yourself to actually paying attention to the class, although you made sure to shoot another glare at Tim for good measure.

Drake follows along quietly as you rush to pack up your belongings. The class seems to end faster than usual, and the moment the teacher releases you from the period, you grab Tim's sleeve and pull him along behind you, quickly making your way out the door with him in tow.

The hallway outside is filled with a mix of noise and chaos. Laughing groups of students chatter away amongst themselves, while others race through, late for their next class. The sound of sneakers scraping against the college’s floors loud and prominent. You push your way through the crowd, guiding him along as you make a beeline for the on-campus cafe.

As you enter the cafe, the atmosphere shifts to a more relaxed vibe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods waft through the air, filling the space with a comforting scent. The cafe is moderately crowded, with students occupying the various tables and booths scattered throughout. Some chat amongst themselves while sipping on their drinks, while others are engrossed in their studies, textbooks spread out before them. There's a gentle hum of conversation that fills the cafe, blending with the soft music playing in the background.

As you scan the cafe for an available booth, your eyes roam over the cozy ambiance, taking in the various students enjoying their time. However, your search comes to an abrupt halt when your gaze falls on Dick Grayson, the young professor, sitting alone in the corner. You discreetly tug on Tim's sleeve and subtly gesture in Grayson's direction with a nudge of your shoulder.

You notice a subtle change in Tim's expression as his lips curve into a knowing grin. He doesn't seem all that fazed by Dick’s presence, almost as if he was expecting it. As if he was already aware that he’d be here. However, what you been blissfully unaware of was Dick’s impatiently bouncing leg, and the checking of his phone every few seconds.

You pull Tim along to the man’s booth, standing opposite him with a grin. Grayson’s face lights up at the sight of you, and he quickly places his phone face down on the table before standing up to greet you. Without hesitation, he spreads his arms wide, opening them in invitation for a welcoming embrace.

You eagerly accept Dick’s open arms, wrapping your own around his sides without a second thought. Seeking out the familiar comfort of his embrace. Your head fits perfectly against his chest, and you relish the feel of his warmth and the comforting familiarity of this act. Settling snugly against him like a younger sibling would to an older brother.

With your head snuggled against his chest, you're not able to spot the dark grins that spread across the brothers' faces as they exchange knowing looks, their gazes fixed on you.

You gradually untangle yourself from Dick’s embrace and slide into the booth, settling comfortably between the two brothers. Chuckling softly when the oldest Wayne seemed reluctant to let go of you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He chirps, resting his head in his palm and idly tracing around the carved lines of the table.

You nod, settling back into the booth and intending to let the two brothers continue their discussion without interruption. However, you quickly realize that their intense stares are focused solely on you, their gazes unwavering and intense. The intensity in their gazes prompt you to discreetly clear your throat in an attempt to break the silence.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," you comment. Fiddling with a loose strand at the end of your sweater.

The brothers exchange a glance, seemingly communicating silently between them with subtle nods and raised eyebrows. Eventually, Dick clears his throat and turns his gaze back to you, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thought." Dick says, his voice tinged with a hint of humor.

Tim, on the other hand, remains silent, his steady gaze not leaving you. His expression is unreadable, though a small quirk of his lips suggests a hint of amusement.

“Right...” You look down towards the table, noticing it empty of any beverages nor sweets. Had Dick not ordered before we got here?

You blink, realising your mistake and sitting up. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick snorts, but quickly quietens down by a sharp look thrown from Tim. “Yeah, we’re... aquatinted.”

Tim subtly kicks Dick’s leg under the table before turning back to you. “Are you hungry?” His blue eyes analysing you.

You shrug, leaning back and drumming your fingers against the table. “I could eat.”

Dick taps the table, leaning forward to get a better look at you. His eyes flicker with curiosity as his gaze roams over your form, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What do you feel like eating?" he asks, watching you drumming your fingers against the surface of the table. Tim's expression changes to one of interest as he observes you as well.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

Dick cocks his head, still watching you closely. "We'll have some coffee and some pastries to start," he replies, his gaze flickering back to your fingers tapping against the table.

Tim adds, "Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries."

You nod in agreement with their exchange, letting your hands fall to your lap as you continue to follow the conversation. "Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter who's been patiently waiting for your order. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick almost coos at your manors.

The waiter smiles politely and nods, taking note of your order before hurriedly walking away to place the order. Meanwhile, Dick props his chin on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness, but you know he’ll give you that sad puppy face if you say no.

You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, leaning back.

Dick snickers at your comment about your roommate. "Sounds like a character," he remarks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. A fond smile at the thought of Jason.

Tim, on the other hand, looks sympathetic. "I can relate," he says, shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

A small huff escapes Dick's lips in response to Tim's words, though it's not loud enough for you to hear. His expression momentarily shifts, a pout crossing his features.

After a few minutes of quiet banter The waiter returns promptly with a serving plate stacked with various pastries. He places it on the table and then sets the drinks down in front of each of you. As the waiter walks away, Tim quickly grabs two of the pastries and places them on a plate in front of you. Pushing the white porcelain closer to you with his pointer and middle fingers.

Dick, meanwhile, takes a sip of his coffee, a pleasant hum leaving his lips. Watching the interaction fondly.

"Go on," Tim encourages, nudging the plate slightly towards you. "Make sure to eat." His gaze is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You glance down at the pastry, a feeling of warmth spreading through you at Tim's thoughtfulness. Before you can thank him, Dick interjects, a playful smirk on his face.

"Aww, look at that. Timbo's acting all chivalrous, ain't he?" he teases, elbowing Tim lightly in the side. Tim rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Can it, Dickhead," Tim mutters with no real heat behind his words, shoving Dick's hand off his shoulder. But it's hard to stay mad at Dick, especially when he has that charming smirk plastered on his face. He playfully ruffles Tim's hair, earning him a glare in return.

Dick just laughs, unfazed by Tim's retort. "Oh, don't be like that," he replies, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

Sensing the brewing banter, you take a sip of your milkshake, your attention flickering between the two.

Tim attempts to smooth his hair back into place, his gaze shifting to you. "Don't mind him," he says with another eye roll. "Dick's sense of humor never matured past the age of twelve."

Dick feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey, I'll have you know my sense of humor is top-notch," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tim snorts, taking another sip of his coffee to suppress a laugh. "Sure it is," he says dryly. "If by top-notch you mean 'borderline obnoxious.'"

You can't help but chuckle at their banter, hiding your smile behind your milkshake.

The sound drawing the attention of the Wayne brothers as they turn their gazes to you. They watch you for a moment, their expressions softening at the sound of your laughter.

Dick's smirk widens as he observes your reaction, his gaze fixated on you. "Ah, there it is," he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Tim, too, can't help but smile quietly as he watches you, his expression warm. There's an almost admiring look in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side, studying you closely.

You pick up the chocolate croissant, bringing it to your lips the pausing mid-bite as they’ve turned their attention to you.

Dick's eyes remain locked on you, watching as you pause in mid-bite. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand once more, a playful glint in his eyes. Something dark hidden beneath the ocean swirls of his irises.

Tim, too, observes you closely, his gaze lingering on your face. There's an intensity in his gaze that was absent earlier; it's calculating, almost. A subtle hint of possessiveness in the depth of his eyes. He seems to be analyzing your every expression with a keen interest, as if trying to uncover some hidden secret. He lifts the coffee to his lips, taking a long sip and averting his attention elsewhere.

"You gonna eat that or just stare at it?" Dick teases, gesturing towards the croissant you hold in your hand. His tone is light, but the intensity in his gaze belies the lightheartedness of his words. It’s a subtle warning to eat.

You roll your eyes at the gesture, taking a bite into the pastry. It’s warm, freshly baked. The chocolate drizzled over the top as well as placed inside. It practically melts into your mouth. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth as you eat, hiding the grin. “It’s alright.” You lie through your teeth. It’s amazing. But you wouldn’t give the overprotective guys the satisfaction.

Dick snickers, seeing right through your lie. "Just alright, huh?" he says, feigning disbelief. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tim, a knowing glint in his eyes, takes another sip of his coffee. He can tell you're enjoying the croissant, as evidenced by the gleam of chocolate around your lips. But he decides to play along, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe you're just too picky," he comments. They’ll get you a life time supply of these once the plan succeeds.

You hiss, putting the half eaten pastry down onto the plate and elbowing his side. Unaware of the chocolate on your face which makes it hard for them to take you seriously. “I am not picky.” You huff, crossing your arms.

Dick suppresses a laugh as he watches you pout, unable to resist teasing you further. He reaches forward, swiping a finger across your cheek to collect a bit of chocolate that's been left behind.

"Oh really?" he says, a smirk on his face. He uses a napkin to wipe off his finger. His eyes never leave your face as he does so.

Tim, sitting to your side, watches the exchange. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes, but he keeps his composure.

You pause, an embarrassed flush coming over your face. How long had that been there?

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth, indicating where the chocolate is located.

Tim can't help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

You brush a hand over your face, wiping away the excess chocolate. Though the movement only seems to smear it further.

Dick chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. His eyes roam over your face, taking immense pleasure in the flustered state you're in.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him. With a gentle touch, he slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin.

You felt more embarrassed than anything, resting your head against the table afterwards. Feeling like you just wanted to evaporate into the air.

Dick laughs, his amusement clearly evident as you hide your face against the table. He pats your head affectionately, his touch gentle.

Tim watches you, his expression more subdued than Dick's. However, there's a hint of a smile on his lips, a gleam in his eyes that betrays his amusement.

Dick relaxes in the cafe’s empty booth, leaning back slightly as he glances around the room with a touch of impatience. His foot taps rhythmically against the floor, a subtle sign of his restless energy. His grip on his phone tightens as his eyes remain fixed on the screen, watching the blinking red dot on the small map come closer and closer. His fingers tense around the phone's edges, his impatience growing with every passing moment.

As the blinking red dot reaches its destination within the bakery, Dick places his phone face down on the table and casually pretends to check over the menu’s items, feigning indifference despite his growing restlessness. He tries to act nonchalant, as if his mind isn’t anxiously anticipating your arrival.

Dick senses the familiar presence approaching, the shadows in the cafe becoming longer and stretching over his table. He manages to hide his growing excitement, attempting to feign nonchalance, but his giddiness is almost palpable. He looks up from the menu he was pretending to study, his smile betraying him.

He quickly rises from his seat, his body brimming with anticipation. Without hesitation, he opens his arms wide, the eagerness evident on his face as he waits for their baby birds embrace. Practically preening when you bury your face in his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart going a mile a minute. You fit so snugly in his arms, like you were made to be there. His baby sibling.

He meets Tim’s crazed eyes, a dark grin crossing both of their features. He mouths slowly. ‘All good?’

His younger brother nods, fishing out his phone from his pocket to display the vitals silently. You were good, healthy. He hastily hides his phone once you pull away.

Dick almost lets out a whine. Why don’t you want to stay in his arms, baby bird? Can’t you tell you’re made to be there? Dick struggles to release you from his embrace, his arms reluctantly letting go as he allows you to squeeze yourself into the booth beside him. He manages to put some distance between you and himself begrudgingly, his eyes flickering to your face for a brief moment before shifting his attention to Tim.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He gazes at you with a soft smile on his face, resting his head on his palm as his thumb absently runs over the carved lines on the tabletop. Although he tries to hide it, there's a hint of a pout forming on his lips, clearly displeased by the fact that you've moved away from him. However, he brightens when you don't pull away and instead lean into him when his knee pushes gently against yours in a silent display of affection. Enjoying the proximity.

A comfortable silence runs over the table, a possessive smile on the brother’s faces as they watch you intently. Sitting there so perfectly, your nails picking at a screw on the bottom of your laptop. He shifts closer once you clear your throat, his baby blue eyes honing in on your form. His pupils dilated.

He lets out a content sigh at the sound of your voice. So melodic, it reels him in.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," Dick observes you intently, noticing the way you begin to pick at your sweater instead. He can see the anxious habit forming, and silently wishes he could reach out and gently grab your hands to stop you. However, he resists the impulse and simply watches you, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection. He’ll help you with that destructive habit once you’re home, he promises, little bird.

Dick's gaze turns to Tim, a silent silent exchange taking place between the brothers. Dick raises a questioning eyebrow, his grin widening when Tim responds with a subtle nod. Their expressions betraying their shared excitement.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thoughts." Dick speaks, his voice tinged with a hint of humor. Fondness evident.

“Right...”

Dick's eyes narrow as you sit up, shifting your position and inadvertently pulling your knee away from him. A wave of disappointment washes over him, and he has to bite back the urge to command you to put your knee back where it was. He tries to mask his frustration, his expression remaining neutral, but a subtle tension is evident in his body language. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick relaxes a little at the sound of your voice, he grins at Tim's nickname, clearly amused by it. However, his laughter is abruptly cut off as he catches the disapproving look his brother gives him. Immediately sensing the tension, he composes himself, his grin quickly turning into a more subdued smirk. “Yeah,” Dick looks you over calculatingly for a moment, his eyes studying you intently as he tries to choose his words carefully. He pauses for a moment before speaking up, his voice measured and deliberate. “We’re acquainted.”

Dick's attempts to maintain a serious expression falter as Tim shoots him another pointed look and kicks his shin. He can't help but grin, finding his brother's disapproving glances more amusing than anything. He rubs his leg, the younger vigilante having not held back.

“Are you hungry?” His brother questioned, his gaze shifting back to you. You have to be hungry, Dick thought. Jason said you had eaten nearly five hours ago. They can’t let their little bird starve!

When you shrug their eyes narrow, the drumming of your fingers catching their attention. “I could eat.” Your voice broke the silence.

Dick coos. It’s okay, you don’t have to downplay how much you need food. We’ll look after you.

"What do you feel like eating?" Dick's voice comes out slightly breathless as he speaks, his words spoken with conviction. He knows your power over them, and he would do just about anything for you within reason. The cafe is no exception, and he knows that they would probably buy the place in a heartbeat if you so much as hinted at wanting it.

Dick glances at you as you silently scan the menu, his eyes locking onto Tim's right after. A silent conversation takes place between the brothers, their expressions communicating silently what their words can't. Tim then shifts his attention towards the waiter, gesturing for them to come over, while you remain focused on the menu options in front of you.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

They wanted to cut the waiters throat out for the way you flinch at his unexpected presence. Too engrossed in the pictures on the menu to notice the world around you. Snapped out of it by his feigned cheerfulness. You probably hadn’t even noticed your own reaction, seeing how you instantly smiled up at him after.

You needed their protection, that was abundantly clear.

He clocks his head, not sparing the waiter a second glance. "We'll have some coffee and pastries to start," his gaze flickers back to your fingers tapping against the table.

"Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries." Tim adds.

"Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick has to hold back his coos at your manors. So polite.

He faintly hears the waiter’s descending steps. Dick props his chin back on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting. He’ll reward you for that later.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness. As if the brothers weren’t already informed.

“Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, the childish action making Grayson want to squish your cheeks and hold you close. His baby bird is so cute, complaining about big brother. Not that you were aware that they were yet.

"Sounds like a character," He grins sharply, his eyes softened at the thought of Jason.

"I can relate," Dick’s attention is drawn to Tim as he speaks, the other boy shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

He nearly squabbles. He does not nag. He huffs, crossing his arms at Tim’s words. A pout tugging at his bottom lip.

The rest of the conversation goes like a blur to Dick, coming so naturally to him, as if he was simply bantering with his family. Which he was. No one could tell him otherwise.

His attention is suddenly pulled back to reality as he notices the chocolate smeared across your face childishly, like a fussy child. You feel Dick's thumb gently wipe at your face, clearing away the smeared chocolate. There's something almost instinctual about his gesture, as if it comes naturally to him, like he's done it countless times before.

Dick chuckles as he responds to your surprise, a smirk dancing on his lips. He dabs at his finger with a napkin, his eyes fixed intently on your face as he cleans off the chocolate smudges. There's a hint of playfulness in his gaze.

Dick leans forward slightly, his gaze still fixated intently on your face. He notices the way your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and his eyes gleam with amusement. A delighted smirk spreads across his face, his eyes never leaving yours as he observes your flustered state. There's no denying it - you were the epitome of cuteness as a younger sibling. Your chaotic charm and antics had Dick and Tim wrapped around your little finger, and the two brothers couldn't help but adore every single moment.

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth.

Tim couldn’t help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

Their gazes softening further as you attempt to rid your face of the chocolate only to smudge it further.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your up head towards him. It’s hard to think straight with you looking up at him with that pout and flushed cheeks. Like a little kid clinging to their old brother after having a nightmare. How he wishes he had met you as a kid. He slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin. Hesitantly to let go.

The brothers let out hearty laughter at the sight of you burrowing your head into the table. They could practically see you trying to will yourself to disappear. Tim grins fondly, shuffling closer. Dicks own hand moving out to pay your head softly. Their touch affectionate and gentle. They wanted to see you like this all the time.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

I tried to make the POV’s show the difference in how they interpret things. For example, where you may perceive Tim’s expression as a smile, Dick sees it as something dark. You pay more attention to Tim so he’s mentioned more, Dick pays more attention to you so you’re mentioned more.

Tim Drake is mentioned as ‘Mr Wayne’ because I’d assume that he’d be judged based on his family rather than his actual name.

Should I make a tag list? Would anyone even want to be put on a tag list for this?

Comments and questions are really appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

exhaslo · 2 years ago

Text

Puzzle Pieces Ch10

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, shower sex, praise

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

You were trapped there again.

Afraid.

Your body was already shaking, just anticipating the heavy footsteps once that creaky door opened. Your breathing hitched as those thoughts became reality. The loud creak made you stumble as you hurried to the kitchen.

Swiftly, you tried to stop your hands from shaking as you prepped a plate. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you heard a heavy bag hit the floor. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. You couldn't focus and because of that...

CRASH.

"Fuck, woman." Eddie hissed.

You started sobbing and apologizing as you attempted to clean up your mess. His footsteps grew louder and harsher as they drew closer to you. Your breathing stopped as Eddie appeared in front of you. A harsh scowl on his face as he looked down at you.

"Tch, so useless. Clean this shit up and get my dinner ready. I got to head out again soon." Eddie spat as he gave you a swift kick to your stomach.

"S-Sorry....hn...I-I'm so s-sorry." You sobbed, holding your stomach in pain as you kept cleaning.

"Can't believe I got stuck with you."

---------

"I'm sorry!" You gasped, crying as you awoke.

It was hot. You felt sweat all over your body as you scooted off your bed. Another nightmare about him. This was the first one you had since you officially dated Miguel. Unable to stop shaking, you hurried to your living room and grabbed a puzzle.

It had been two weeks since Halloween night. You were happy with Miguel. Everything was going so smoothly, so why. Why were you having nightmares again?

"It's s-so l-late...I-I...d-don't...want...want to bother...." You sniffled lowly, shaking as you reached for your phone.

Miguel had told you to call him whenever you needed to calm down. He was so understanding. Shuddering as you felt your chest tighten, you hesitated to press on Miguel's name. It was almost midnight. What were the chances that he was awake?

-------

Miguel sat alone in a dark room. The only visible thing were his eyes that seemed to have a red glow to them. An echo of a tap was heard until the door creaked opened. Miguel exhaled softly as he watched Miles and his little crew enter.

"Still nothing?" Miguel's tone was more than annoyed.

"Our lead got us nowhere. The best we can do is just keep watching the supermarket." Peter stepped in. Miguel's eye twitched,

"Why is it so hard to find one man?"

"Well, to be fair, we're always fighting someone so our attention isn't that focused on this one dude," Gwen sighed and glanced at Miles, "Maybe we can draw-"

Miguel slammed his fist against the desk. His glare more prominent than normal. Everyone took this as a sign to leave. Not before apologizing to Miguel first. Once they were all gone, Miguel hissed lowly as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under his desk.

Right as he poured the liquid into a glass, Miguel growled at the sound of his phone. It was late and Miguel was ready to go home, but of course, that new pest of a mafia group had to cause trouble. This new Venom group was going to be destroyed one way or another.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel whispered as he saw your name on his phone, "It's late, Conejita (bunny), why are you still up?" He lowered his voice for you.

"I...I had a n-nightmare," You whimpered.

Miguel's eyes soften as he leaned back in his seat. Your voice was scratchy and low. You've been crying. That and your stuttering was pretty bad. Oh, how he wished you were in his arms right now for him to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Miguel glanced at his watch, his own exhausted eyes drooping slightly,

"N-No...I...I just...j-just need to c-calm down. I-I like...h-hearing y-your voice." You whimpered softly. Miguel inhaled deeply as he found the energy to stand,

"I'll be there in a bit, amor (love). Don't worry."

"O-Okay,"

Miguel smiled softly as he heard the relief in your tone. He hung up, then immediately called his driver. Despite still having a lot of work to do, Miguel was going to call it a night. He can have his men and women do his dirty work for now.

Miguel needed his relief.

----------

You played with your sleeves as you fixed up your place. It helped you clear your mind a bit since Miguel was coming over. Hurrying to the bedroom, you doublechecked his spare clothes. Since you started dating, you bought Miguel some cozy clothes in case he ever decided to stay over again.

You were always the one to sleep over at his place.

Feeling your cheeks burn, you shook the thought away and hurried back to the living room. Miguel was going to come over any minute now. You needed to finish your puzzle.

'Pick up this shit! What are you a fucking child?'

Your breathing shuddered as the voice screamed from the back of your mind. You held the small piece in your palm, unable to stop shaking. Your sleeves slowly rolling down, revealing the scars you gave yourself as a means of escape.

'Do you have ANY FUCKING IDEA how fucked I'll be if you tried to fucking kill yourself? Don't be a stupid little bitch!'

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sobbed once more. Why did his voice have to come back and haunt you? Why was he such a poison in your mind? Eddie was a venom. Eating away at your soul until you were nothing left.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel knocked against your door.

Quickly, you hurried to him. You tackled Miguel, wrapping your arms around him as you sobbed into his chest. With ease, Miguel picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. You didn't want to let him go.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Miguel asked, sitting you on the bed. He noticed a pair of clothes set aside for him, "Hm?"

"I-I k-keep hearing...h-his...his voice. I-I can't..." You tighten your grip against his jacket, "I-I'm sorry. S-Sorry I'm a burden."

"But you're not," Miguel sighed softly and lifted your chin, kissing your tears away, "He is no longer in your life. Y estoy planeando matar al cabrón por ti, mi conejito. (And I'm planning on killing the fucker for you, my bunny)."

"Mhm, M-Miguel..." You whispered, only understanding the 'bunny' part, "Um...I, um...I got you some comfortable clothes...to s-sleep in. W-Would you like s-shower first?"

"Only if you join me,"

You bit your lower lip and slowly nodded. Honestly, just having Miguel here was calming you down. Following Miguel into the bathroom, you helped set the water and squeaked softly as Miguel already started to get undressed.

You followed suit, still hesitating with your clothes. Miguel approached you, his hands gently holding your waist. You closed your eyes, finally removing your shirt. Miguel responded with a hum and proceeded to kiss you,

"My beautiful girl," He whispered, slowly pulling you into the shower with him.

Your heart fluttered every time Miguel complemented you. Your shower was small, so your bodies were pressed against each other. Miguel had you in his embrace, his head resting against the crook of your neck as the warm water hit his skin.

"(Y/n), whenever you think of that asshole, I want you to remember that I'm taking care of you now," Miguel whispered in your ear as his hands stroked your sides, "That I cherish you for the wonderful woman you are."

"M-Miguel," You whispered, feeling your back pressed against the wall.

You whimpered softly as Miguel started to kiss and nibble at your neck and shoulder. You slowly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as Miguel lifted you up. You shuddered as Miguel started to grind his hips into yours, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

"Call out of work tomorrow, amor. Let me spoil you."

"B-But...mhm, I-I can't...c-call out again." You whimpered softly, resisting a moan as Miguel's dick slid against your folds, "M-My...b-b-bills"

"I'll take care of everything," Miguel hummed, making his marks on you, "You deserve a break. Let me take care of you."

"M-Miggy," You moaned as his tip poked your hole.

You arched your back against the wall, giving Miguel more space to mark you. He hummed in response, his fingers slowly rubbing circles against your clit. The heat of the shower was fogging your mind as you started to give into the pleasure.

"That's right, let me take care of you." Miguel hummed, stealing your lips in a kiss as he gently slid his dick inside you.

"Mhpm~"

Your legs tighten around Miguel's waist as he started to thrust into you. His gentle yet rough thrusts sending you to nirvana with each slap. Whimpers and moans were coming out loudly as you clenched around Miguel's cock.

Every time Miguel fucked you, it made you remember the difference between him and your past relationship. Miguel was far too good for you. Gasping, you fell victim to an orgasm with another simple rough thrust from Miguel.

"Gooooood girl. That's right, you're doing so good for me," Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting a little faster and harsher.

You flung your head back, crying out as Miguel kept hitting your sweet spot. Your hands were gripping his hair, your head resting against his shoulder.

"Miggy~"

-------

Miguel grunted as you kept clenching around his dick. Your blissed out expression gave him full to keep going. You were doing better giving yourself into him. Miguel just needed you to realize that you didn't have to work anymore.

That you could live with him.

Hearing loud knocking from against the shower wall, Miguel chuckled darkly. Seems like his shy bunny was being too loud for your neighbors. You didn't even notice as Miguel drew another orgasm out of you.

"Let's take this to the bed," Miguel chuckled.

Still holding onto you, Miguel turned the water off and brought a towel. He placed the towel on the bed before laying you on your back. His harsh and rough thrusts continued as he pressed you into mating position.

"I'll treat you like the princess you deserve to be," Miguel grunted as he unloaded inside of you.

"M-Mig..." You breathed out, "P-Please...K-Keep going,"

Miguel just chuckled as he kissed you deeply. Your cute fucked out expression just begging for more. Miguel flipped you on your stomach, pressing himself against you back. You whimpered and moaned as his rough thrusts continued.

"Ah, sabe tan bien. Eres mi dulce conejita en celo, ¿no? ¿Quieres que te dé una razón para ser mía? (Ah, taste so good. You are my sweet little bunny in heat aren't you? Want me to give you a reason to be mine?)" Miguel whispered, falling into his own lust.

Miguel pressed his hand against your back, watching you grip the bed sheets. Your moans filling his ears like music. Your sweet pussy dripping and sucking his dick, forming a white ring around his cock. Your moans were almost pornographic as Miguel finally let loose.

"I'm going to treat you so well tomorrow. I've had such a long day." Miguel whispered in your ear, "Going to make you forget all about what hurts you."

"Miguel~!" You cried out, collapsing after a harsh orgasm.

Miguel sighed softly as he finished. Another grunt and a moan, Miguel gave you one last load of his cum. A loud sigh escaping his throat as relief washed over him. As he pulled out, Miguel smiled at his work once more.

You were fast asleep, your body twitching softly with his marks all over you. Miguel put on the clothes you got him and proceeded to wipe you down. He found some new pajamas for you and got you dressed before finally climbing into your bed.

"Not the best way to comfort her, but this works too," Miguel told himself before falling asleep.

---------

"Took forever, but we finally had time to get here." Eddie huffed as he stood in front of the supermarket you worked at, "Now to take back what belongs to me."

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

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

911 notes · View notes

acescorazon · 6 months ago

Text

**12/16: Additional Changes Update**

Chapter: 18

Title: Satisfied.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2656

Warnings: Violence, Language, Crocodile.

Chapter excerpt:

Buggy pants as he gets up to his feet and spits out some of the blood in his mouth. He’ll wonder if he bit his tongue at some point or if he lost a tooth or something later. in one quick movement, he kicks Crocodile right in the gut, causing the other man to hiss sharply and grit his teeth as he clutches his stomach. Buggy can hardly breathe, in fact, he thinks Crocodile might’ve broken his nose, but he wants to keep on going. He pulls his leg back, ready for a second kick.

Kick him, klck him, kick h–

Someone grabs him firmly by the shoulder and spins him around. Buggy’s so deep in fight mode that he almost swings again until he notices who’s in front of him.

“Enough.” Mihawk orders through gritted teeth.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||Ch14||Ch15||Ch16||Ch17||

‘C’mon, then. No bullshit or devil fruit powers. Let’s just fight and - win, lose, or draw - move the fuck on.’ Ah, fuck, Buggy got greedy, didn’t he? He did. He should have just forgiven Crocodile after that second pun–

‘Nah, fuck that,’ A voice says in Buggy’s head, loud and clear. Then maybe Buggy should stop here and tell Crocodile he doesn’t want to actually fight him. He can always make up some bullshit lie to save face, and–

‘Nah, fuck that too,’ Says the same voice again. Oh.

Is it adrenaline or stupidity that’s giving Buggy this surge of courage? Maybe it’s a little bit of both, but Buggy hardly has the time to think about all that. His brain is chanting the same word over and over again in his head: ‘Fight. Fight. Fight.’

Don’t back down, fight. He’s been making a fool out of you for way too fucking long. Fight him and, even if you lose, at least you can finally say that you stood up for yourself.

If Buggy’s going to actually fight Crocodile, he knows that he’s not going to win by doing things the right way. No bullshit, right? That means Crocodile wants a fair fight, or at least that’s what Buggy thinks. Why would he even attempt to have an honorable duel with Crocodile given their size and strength differences, though? Nah, fuck that. “Fuck it,” Buggy says before he lunges forward to tackle Crocodile, hoping and praying that he’ll be able to catch him off guard.

It works.

It works?

Fuck, it works! Once Buggy surges forward, momentum and gravity seem to be on his side, and the pair tumble to the ground. Crocodile hits the ground first, obviously, and lets out a sharp hiss, “You sneaky little bastard!” he yells.

Crocodile’s words hardly process in Buggy’s mind at that very moment. Punch him, punch him, punch him. Don’t let him get a single blow in, because if he does, it’s over.

Buggy never thought the day would come where he’d actually have to fight Crocodile like this, and it’s like a completely different person has taken over him. Hm, maybe it isn’t a different person, maybe it’s the person he used to be before Crocodile and Mihawk started to push him around. Maybe it’s the person he used to be before he became complacent. Either way, he delivers a series of punches to Crocodile’s jaw; they’re rapid and full of a level of hatred that surprises even him.

There are voices coming from all different directions all of a sudden, but they sound so far away at the moment. It’s like his surroundings are disappearing and the only thing in this world that matters is him and Crocodile. Crocodile tries to block Buggy’s punches to the best of his ability, but Buggy is just… Man, he’s just going all in and trying to hit him as fast and hard as possible.

He hates this guy’s guts. He doesn’t think he’s ever hated a person as much as he hates Crocodile, and that hatred compels him to fight like he’s never fought before. Fuck him. Fuck him for all that he’s done, fuck him for all that he’s going to do in the future.

Buggy’s luck only takes him so far, though. Crocodile grabs him by the arm the next time he tries to punch him again and counters the attack. He uses his hook to strike Buggy across the face and, fuck, Buggy had forgotten how much it fucking hurts to be hit by Crocodile's cold, metal hook. Buggy would rather get shot than have to get punched in the face one more time by that thing.

That one strike stuns Buggy and he quickly feels his world begin to shift. One moment he’s looking down at Crocodile, the next he’s looking up at him and his bloodied face and messy hair. It does not feel good to be on the receiving end of someone’s punches, needless to say.

Buggy briefly wonders how Crocodile went from begging for forgiveness to beating his ass like usual, but then again, that’s what makes Crocodile…Well, Crocodile, isn’t it? He can tell that Crocodile is a little shaken up from his sneak attack though. His own punches aren’t as precise and consistent as they normally would be. There’s one across Buggy’s jaw, one to the nose, one to the eye, and another one right above his eyebrow.

Ah, fuck, he’s in over his head.

The voices are getting louder now, Who the hell is talking? It’s not Crocodile, he’s all grunts and pants as he sits on top of Buggy’s chest and beats his face in. In fact, the loudest sound he’s made was when he hit the ground with a startled grunt earlier. Buggy glances over to his side and just barely makes out the sight of several pairs of feet all around them.

Buggy doesn’t get to process the scene further because a second later Crocodile lands another strike to his jaw, and Buggy can taste something salty and metallic fill his mouth. Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about it, he has to get from underneath Crocodile.

His next move won’t be fair. In fact, it’ll be dirty and underhanded, and Buggy knows it but he simply doesn’t care. Buggy reaches up and jabs Crocodile right in the eyes. “You sneaky little fuck!” Crocodile immediately hisses. He’s just mad that he didn’t think of doing it first. With Crocodile blinded, Buggy lands two more quick, consecutive strikes across his face. This time he gets Crocodile right in the cheekbone before he shoves him off of him.

Buggy pants as he gets up to his feet and spits out some of the blood in his mouth. He’ll wonder if he bit his tongue at some point or if he lost a tooth or something later. in one quick movement, he kicks Crocodile right in the gut, causing the other man to inhale sharply and grit his teeth as he clutches his stomach. Buggy can hardly breathe, in fact, he thinks Crocodile might’ve broken his nose, but he wants to keep on going. He pulls his leg back, ready for a second kick.

Kick him, klck him, kick h–

Someone grabs him firmly by the shoulder and spins him around. Buggy’s so deep in fight mode that he almost swings again until he notices who’s in front of him.

“Enough.” Mihawk orders through gritted teeth. He looks past Buggy and at Crocodile, who’s still on the ground with a bitter look on his face. “Meeting time. Now.” he orders, and before Buggy can even get a word in, Mihawk yanks him by his collar and tugs him away from Crocodile.

Buggy’s head is throbbing and his vision is a little blurry from the fight but he finally makes out the shapes of his crew as Mihawk drags him to the meeting room. Shit, did his kids see all that? He tries to gauge their reactions, but he’s having some difficulties. They��re probably stunned right now. He kind of hopes they thought he looked cool during his brawl with Crocodile, though.

“Why the hell are you getting involved, Hawkeye?!” Crocodile yells as he follows after the other two, but not before he screams at Buggy’s men to get lost. “We were settling things like men here.” He claims as he wipes the blood away from the corner of his mouth.

“You were settling things in such a petulant manner.” Mihawk snaps, “We agreed not to fight each other any more. Tell me, Is your memory failing you already, Crocodile?” He pauses, then looks at Buggy, “What about you? Do you have a bout of anmesia as well?” He asks.

Neither men respond to Mihawk’s question.

Buggy didn’t say anything, why is he getting scolded? Plus, Crocodile was the one who said they should fight… and… and…Okay, maybe Mihawk has a point. Arguably, there was probably a hundred different ways to handle the situation that didn’t involve him and Crocodile actually fighting. This fight in particular was more gratifying than it should’ve been, though.

Buggy can’t remember a time when he felt as courageous and powerful as he did when he was driving his fists into Crocodile’s smug face. He was…He was fighting back and it felt so good. That high might carry him through the whole week, actually.

He thinks…He thinks they actually needed to fight, as crazy as that sounds.

Mihawk releases Buggy after he turns on the lights to the meeting room. He waits for the other two men to be seated before he continues his lecture. “Please explain to me why you two were fighting in the middle of the night.” He orders, “Especially when we all agreed to keep things peaceful.”

Crocodile pinches the bridge of his nose, “Look, it ain’t none of your business. Me and him had some unfinished business that we were taking care of.”

Yeah…What he said. Buggy thinks as he tries to ignore the constant pain coming from his skull right now. Although, when he thinks about it, he has to admit that their reasoning for fighting sounds a little dumb… It was dumb, but they probably both benefited from it in a weird way?

“You’re such an honorless man.” Mihawk mutters as he grabs Crocodile by the chin, and examines his face, “You can’t even keep such a simple promise, can you?”

…Yeah, what he said… Buggy thinks again.

“Look, Hawkeye, it wasn’t even like that. We were just fighting so Buggy could finally let go of an old grudge.”

Mihawk goes oddly quiet for a moment. “You both are the most infuriating men i have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Wait here while i get a first aid kit.”

The room remains quiet until Mihawk is out of sight. Once he’s gone though, Crocodle rolls his shoulder in circles and mutters a quiet, “Yeah, you better run along and go get that damn first aid kit.”

Buggy lets out an involuntary snort. Despite the situation they’re in, he can’t help but chuckle quietly at Crocodile’s remark. He quickly pretends like he’s not entertained by Crocodile’s mumbling though, because why would he ever find anything that Crocodile says funny?

Crocodile clears his throat, “You okay?” He asks as he glances over at Buggy. Buggy can’t even begin to imagine what kind of injuries he actually has. Best case scenario: he has a black eye and some bad swelling all over his face. Worst case scenario: Crocodile broke something and knocked a few of his teeth out on top of what feels like a nasty eye injury.

Despite Buggy’s injuries though, he didn’t get knocked out and he didn’t run away with his tail tucked between his legs. That knowledge effects his pride in ways that can’t even be described. So, how is he? Pretty damn good, actually. “I’m fine,” He manages to say, and he’s not lying for once, how odd. “You?”

“Shit, it would take more than a few punches and a kick to the gut to hurt me.”

“You have to admit that I gave you one hell of a fight, though.”

Crocodile rolls his eyes as he grabs a ciger and shoves it between his lips. “Yeah, yeah, you gave me a fat lip and made me work up a sweat. I’m proud of you.” he replies, “Don’t get cocky now.”

A sheepish grin spreads across Buggy’s lips, “I mean, i did a little more than that. Let’s be honest here.” He doesn’t want to toot his own horn, but it’s the truth. It looks like he and Crocodile are sporting matching black eyes and bloody noses, and he's proud of that.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get a big head. We both know who would’ve won that fight if Hawkeye wouldn’t have intervened, and it would’ve been me.” Crocodile claims.

This has to be the first time that Buggy looks at Crocodile and sees a man and not a threat to his well being or his executioner. He…He’s giant and intimidating, but he’s just a guy who’s a few years older than Buggy when he thinks about it. He’s still scary, but…slightly less scary now. “Are you kidding me? You weren’t even on your feet when Mihawk stopped the fight. I would have won, obviously.”

Crocodile stares at Buggy for a moment, giving him a somewhat shocked look before he laughs. The sound is loud enough to make Buggy’s poor ears ring. What, what’d he say? Crocodile clutches his side as he continues to laugh for a good minute before he exhales a sharp breath, “Oh, shit. I needed that.”

Buggy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, “What’s so funny?!” He asks. “I’m serious. I had you on the ground. I was winning.”

“Only because you caught me off guard when you jabbed me in the eye!”

How odd, they seem to be having a relatively pleasant conversation for once. This has to be another one for the history books, but Buggy doesn’t think too much about it. Instead he tries to prove that he had Crocodile beaten, and Crocodile laughs like he’s at a comedy show. It's all so weird, but Buggy feels like a weight has been finally lifted off of his chest in that moment.

Mihawk eventually returns with a first aid kit in his hand and continues scolding Crocodile of all people as he sits down to tend to the wounds on his face. The weirdest part is: Crocodile doesn’t seem bothered by any of it either.

“You said you wouldn’t fight anymore, now look at you. Look at you both, actually. Did this fight of yours accomplish anything?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Hawkeye. We just needed to fight it out, right, Buggy?” Crocodile asks, and Buggy grunts in response. “And…I would say i gained a little bit of respect for the clown today. He put up a good fight. So, yeah, it accomplished something.”

Wait, is Buggy hearing things right? Did Crocodile just…? Oh, so now he has Crocodile and Mihawk’s respect, right? As he should, he’s the damn leader of Cross Guild, after all. They should be groveling at his feet, actually, and the only reason he won’t say that out loud is because he’s always been incredibly humble…

Man, maybe that fight did more for him than he thought.

Mihawk exhales a weary sigh, “You could have talked things out.” He insists, “You could have found a time and a place to actually sit down and… Oh, i’m wasting my breath. You never listen to me anyways.” he shakes his head, “No more after this.” He mutters.

Mihawk turns and looks at Buggy once he’s finished patching Crocodile up a little, “And you…” He shakes his head, looking equally as disappointed with Buggy as he is with Crocodile. “I understand you less than I understand this brute. At least he’s consistent.” What is that supposed to mean, Buggy thinks as he watches Mihawk turn his chair around and face him.

Wait, is he going to…?

Buggy’s eyes widen slightly (or at least the good one does) as he sees Mihawk reach for his face. He moves back out of instinct, and Mihawk sighs. “Oh, don't be like that. You know I won’t hurt you.” Yeah, but…

But…

“I don’t need you to take care of me...” Buggy murmurs but after a second, he relents and lets Mihawk tend to his wounds just as he had done with Crocodile a few minutes earlier. He can’t believe he’s letting Mihawk touch him like this, it feels weird.

“Of course you don’t, but let me do it anyways.”

The moment Buggy processes Mihawk’s words, his face begins to burn brightly. It’s left over adrenaline, he tells himself. it has to be adrenaline.

It’s just adrenaline. Don’t think too much about it.

#cross guild #changes #my writing #Maybe violence was the answer this time #bcuz im silly after all and its what the people wanted <3 #(it was like three ppl but thats enough for me)

34 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 9 months ago

Text

wip wednesday!

tagged by: @guiltyasdave @avocado-writing @stargirlfics @eupheme thank you for the tags last week/today darlings! i finally have a little something to share.

i haven't started on right where you left me ch7 yet but i'm working on a logan series for october. it's spooky & deals with death in an interesting way. anyways enjoy the sneak peak!

pick your poison: atropa belladonna

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge - a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked. Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man. Not an animal. That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before - when he was once a soldier - began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

tagging the lovelies: @sunflowersteves @rae-gar-targaryen @ovaryacted @superhoeva @wlwloverwrites @agirllovespancakes

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #my writing #tagged!

32 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 3 months ago

Note

heyyy!! how are you doing? i hope you’re well 💗

i’m writing this fic of mine and i’m having trouble with creating conflict and angst🥲 every idea i come up with doesn’t work the way i want it to so i thought i’d ask you cuz you’re highkey my inspiration lol, it’d be sweet if you got any tips you could give

hi love! i'm doin alright thank you :) hope you're well too!!

aw i'm so honored that you want my input haha <3 i hear you, creating conflict n angst is so hard in fiction but also so much ends up relying around it, and it can be really frustrating to have an idea but then it kinda crashes and burns

my advise for creating conflict:

have both circumstantial conflict and character driven conflict. likeee for example circumstantial conflict is the situation (ex failing a class makes a character do xyz, financial woes makes a character do xyz etc and it complicates things) and then character driven conflict is like stuff a character does because of their personality traits or previous experiences (ex character was trust issues in relationships or they're overly stubborn etc) i think it's easier to justify your conflicts in your stories if you have multimodal sources of them. gives you more flexibility too

definitely don't commit to a conflict if you don't know how it will eventually resolve. this will lead to insane writer's block down the line

draw from your life experiences! i find the most engaging conflicts are the ones that closely resemble how it would be in real life. no need to create anything super dramatic, i think it's more about execution of the feelings that the characters are going through during their adversity rather than the severity of it if that makes sense

don't overthink it too much. sometimes when i'm writing and trying to build conflict between my characters i have thoughts like "oh this feels so forced" or "oh it comes off as such an obvious plot device for xyz" etc etc. it's okay if the conflict is cliche, or repetitive, or doesn't make sense in some cases. it's hard to write an iron-clad conflict/resolution arc. if i'm being honest, i have only seen such a thing successfully pulled off in very few media i've consumed LOL even like professionally written stuff. sooooo just take it easy. i suppose that is part of the conflict itself! the author's inability to perfectly display it! beauty in imperfection xd

as for writing angst:

i think angst is aaaaaaaall about showing not telling. like it's easy to write "she felt ___" or "he wept for hours" stuff like that, which is all good n great n definitely should be stated here and there. but preferentially when it comes to angst, i like to provide more "details" surrounding things? like idk it's corny to pull from my own source material for an example LOL but like in ihm ch7 when reader is looking through her mother's things to start putting stuff in boxes. like yes i wanted to portray that she was sad but like the little details about the sticky notes her mother placed around her room n stuff i thought would more so show exactly why looking through all of her mother's stuff was so devastating for her

appeal to aspects of life anyone can relate to. sure, your characters are their own people and will have their own thoughts n feelings n stuff separate of trying to appease any reader's personal feelings. however, there are certain human feelings i think are relatively universal, which will likely be present in any conflict, and so appealing to those will really help drive the angst home

idk i'm running a blank on anymore tips here sorry bb LOL

don't feel discouraged!!!!! you've got thisss!!!!!

ok good luck byeee

#asks

11 notes · View notes

eirasummersart · 2 years ago

Text

Hiding it because it's really early since ch7 happened. Spoilers ahead!

I just really wanted to draw Malenoa, but also Lilia, and the egg, and everything. I was having lots of feels for Silver and Sebek too, I might doodle them another day too. But just starting with this 😭

Just the whole scene was funny and sad at the same time. She didn't actually give a kiss to the egg, but I wanted to see it, so I drew it like that 😢

That's all. Text in the img:

M: Be safe, my beloved child ❤ L: Please, listen to me!!

Commissions are open, check out my pinnned post if you’re interested~

#twst #Twisted Wonderland #twst spoilers #Lilia Vanrouge #Malenoa Draconia #Malleus Draconia #technically(?)#doodles #sketch

61 notes · View notes

salemlinnet · 2 months ago

Text

p179, and that's the end of ch5! i will see you all really soon with a few tumblr message doodles and the public version of the valentines day special. i'm cooking a up few nsfw comics between chapters, though i am well into ch6 now, and patrons are gonna start seeing the first scene real soon.

man we're so far into the story now. it's amazing, i keep drawing and i keep chewing up script. ch6 is short (comparatively) at around 20 pages (with a short patron only/for purchase nsfw epilogue (i'm cooking lately)) and then after that ch7 will happen. and then ch8. and ch9. and, just, in a story structure sense, you guys get it. i have page 200 sitting on my ipad as a bunch of squiggles in four panels right now.

thank you all so much for reading along, everyone. i know i'm a... well... slow burn author doesn't feel like harsh enough a phrase. i really look forward to a time when i can read this back to myself when it's complete, i hope everyone else is having as much fun as i am slowly following the path from a to b. thank you so so much to my patron supporters, i really can't emphasize how much the monthly salary has helped me to be able to make more art and to make it faster and put more energy into it. i have to acknowledge that times have changed since i started, not just in terms of inflation but in light of the many more comics coming up for patrons, more hours put into the comics, etc. i will be raising the price of the subscription to $6 shortly. idk. when i'm over ch5 finally being published. the $3 price for current patrons will not change, as a thank you to those who joined so early i'd like everyone to keep their starting price as a policy. i may offer lower tiers for just nsfw/just early access/just postcards in the future someday.

life really tired to stop this cliff hanger, but i won't let it happen. i am, like, so excited for the upcoming chapters like they're gonna be beasts (except ch6 which is no beast, he's a sweet, sweet little angel in no2 dress service and he's a dream and a peach and he gets all the smooches (although admittedly the first scene has, like, such a frankenstein background collage i had to paint like 1/3rds of it in and i'll be damned if you can tell which part is shitty png, layered with like 15 detailed extra characters so idk maybe i just have backward facing euphoria cause that part's fucking finished and now it's just ghost and soap and uniform) but they'll be so worth it.

read the whole series at salemlinnet.com/domesticated

#soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #call of duty #ghost/soap #soap/ghost #modern warfare

87 notes · View notes

ominous-faechild · 9 days ago

Text

☀️MIDSUMMER☀️

NEWSLETTER

This is the first newsletter since late April and there's a lot going on here in the Faewildes, so let me start with a quick update:

☀️ Faerie's Dawn has returned! ☀️ it updates twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays! ☀️ the amount of updates will vary by length of my buffer ☀️ even if there's less updates, it doesn't mean I'm not writing: FD is very nonlinear, so there are times where I may be writing within the past of the story even if the scene doesn't get shared for a while ☀️ beyond that, I am still writing some scenes slightly ahead of time if they play through my mind. it means, although there might be less updates rn, there will be more later!!!

☀️ THE OFFICIAL FAERIE'S DAWN DISCORD HAS LAUNCHED! ☀️ it's intended mostly for FD specifically ☀️ it includes a section to question me (the author) and a theory section for y'all to discuss theories ☀️ i regularly post updates of my edits to previous chapters and things i otherwise wouldn't tag y'all tumblr peeps in ☀️ aka: polls, fd bonus scenes, fd shitposts

And now for the newsletter!

FAERIE'S DAWN

important info - fd will have seasons

HUMANS' SIDE

ch4: Surprise Encounter h4-1

shitpost - Catacombs & Chimeras

FAERIES' SIDE

fd extras - cloud vs sky (differences) fd extras - kilrey is a prick fd extras - introducing: dying!

shitpost - my next nova drawing semicorrect quotes - nova meets an archfaerie shitpost - shion trolls nova out-of-context - "it's a trap!"

chapters

ch3: “Natural” Obstacles f3-1 / f3-2

ch4: On What Grounds? f4-1 / f4-2

ch5: Calm After The Storm f5-1 / f5-2

ch6: Rumination f6

ch7: Nice To Meet "You" f7-1 / f7-2 / f7-3

for those interested in joining the discord: here's an invite!

for those new to my blog and interested in FD, here's the blurb and some links to get you started!

Following the Shattering of Reality, the world was plunged into what came to be known as the Faewildes: an ever-changing world suffused with magic and danger. Humanity crumbled under the weight of the new reality while fae—and the archfae above them—emerged to rule over the new world. Humans couldn't compete against the fae's sheer magical prowess, and soon built strongholds in territories with weak magical presence to stand against them. Now, so many generations later, humanity has finally learned of faekind's weakness: metal, which weakens fae and blocks their magic. A war is breaking out between humanity and fae, with gods each picking sides in the conflict. Between faeries Nova, Cloud, and Sky, and the human settlement Eve and Asa protect... who will win?

intro

table of contents

chapter 1

divider by @cafekitsune

4 notes · View notes

reddogf13 · 11 months ago

Text

and were back with another edition of these icons. since i had started on the second set i knew i really should "paint" them and slightly mimic the style of the comics with a lack of thick outlines. but i kept rejecting that because I'd have to start the icons from scratch in a way. but eventually i buckled and the icons look far better.

the first icon has a better visual with the fire theme that actually matches the chapters contents.

ch3 icon as well i was struggling to draw the gold effect. painting it had it turn out much better and actually representing the melting of false idols better.

many of the icons are recreations of holy paintings. or represent a piece of religious story's.

ch2 recreates the pose of Jesus with his hand up creating 4 letters in greek. “IC XC” Marta is shown with a big grand halo showing her unbreaking loyalty and faith that has sadly been lead astray to her downfall by turning into a choking barbwire.

ch3 being a point toward burning false idols > the golden calf story.

ch6 features Marta's new staff. which is a point toward the rod of Asclepius. -both a reminder of God’s miraculous healing and as a warning for disobedience.-

ch7 recreates the painting of saint Sebastion. tied to a tree and shot by arrows. he was a known for keeping away plagues. (this chapter also revolves around Blake reentering the quarantine zone to help the scalled.)

ch13 points to the story of Daniel being thrown to the lions and surviving because he was innocent of the crime he was punished for. in the icon, Blake is also replicating the Jesus "bless thee" posed painting.

ch15 (used to be 14) loosely recreates the fallen angel painting.

there are a couple generic ish bits like characters having halos. Blake, Marta, and Val have specific ones. Marta's was stated above. Blake's halo still shines, but has been harmed and now has a circling halo of thorns. it also dulls and brightens with confidence. val has a similar set up where hers was very large, glowing and used to have regular tines like Marta. but after all the damage and betrayal its gone dark, shattered, and the tines have become massive broken blades to keep away others.

#outlast 2 #blake langermann #val outlast #marta outlast #outlast 2: deliverance

12 notes · View notes

turnupswritessometimes · 1 year ago

Text

Geppetto's Boy - Lies of P - Ch7

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54517777/chapters/138571591

Summary: A collection of oneshots set throughout the game, mostly exploring P and Gepetto’s relationship. (But exploring P’s relationships with most of Hotel Krat too.)

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Seven

Ergo was humans.

Ergo was made from humans.

Ergo was life. Literally. It was human lives.

P killed one of the monsters on his way back to the hotel. Ergo had flown from it. The alchemist had been right, then. This sickness was because of Ergo. The very thing P needed to live had caused the petrification disease. The puppets had been the reason for all of Krat's downfall; their frenzy, and their poisonous Ergo. He was a puppet. He had been part of the reason Krat was in the state it was in.

And yet, as he made his way back to the hotel, he still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that the blue, swirling Ergo could also be so terrible. It was beautiful; it was beautiful, and it was what brought him to Sophia. It was what had brought him home - the hotel was his home.

He stopped, on the steps of his home, his hand over his chest. His heart ran on Ergo. When his father opened him up, his face was lit with the soft blue light. How could something so beautiful be so terrible too?

"Hey, pal…" Gemini seemed to hesitate. "You don't think…"

All P was doing was thinking. His mind whirred, round and round. He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with the Head Alchemist: with Simon Manus. Could he trust him to tell the truth? He supposed he had to: he had as much reason to believe him, as he did believe his father? Things were starting to come together, like fragments of a broken mirror. If he had some patience, he could piece it back together.

Though, he felt a twinge of fear at what it could mean.

"I need to speak to Polendina," P murmured. Because Polendina said his Ego had awakened: Polendina remembered things. It would make a terrible sense with what he had learnt.

"Shouldn't we see Geppetto first?" Gemini asked. "I mean, he'll want to know about this-"

"He might already know. He must already know." P was sure of that, when he said it. His father must know the truth about Ergo; must at least know its effects on humans; he was a clever man. "But he will not tell us the truth."

Gemini's voice was soft, and only half-scolding: "You don't know that."

But P did. He looked up at the hotel, finding the window of his father's room. He knew Geppetto now, and he knew what he would say and do. He knew that he had already hidden so much from P, that he wouldn't think of hiding this. He had gotten P to do exactly what he wanted.

"He does not lie," he said. "But he does not tell the truth, either."

He only told P as much as he needed to know, to keep him obedient. To keep him being a good boy.

Gemini listened. He gave a long, low chirp, his light dimming. "It's up to you. I don't control what you do. I can only give you advice."

P almost smiled. He felt exhausted from the fight, and more exhausted from the revelation, but at least he still had Gemini. He brushed his fingers over the top of the lantern. "Thank you."

Then he noticed there was something very wrong, with Hotel Krat. Noticed, now that Gemini was dimmer, there weren't as many lights coming from the building. The door was open - the door was damaged. From the glimpse he saw inside, he could see the lobby was in a state; the plants overturned and a tile cracked. Something had happened.

He rushed in, drawing his sword. Almost everything had been overturned. The photoframes had been smashed, and glass scattered the floor. The welcome desk was cleaved, woodchips trailing across the cracked marble floors. A chandelier had fallen, over the stairs, making everything darker; making shadows dance across the walls.

"I don’t like this…" Gemini murmured at his side. P didn’t reply. This was unnerving. More unnerving than walking into the Grand Exhibition, knowing it contained monsters. His home had been attacked. Someone had attacked his home.

When he went upstairs, when he found everyone, he learnt the details.

It had been attacked. The hotel had been attacked, and his father had been taken. Kidnapped. Geppetto had been kidnapped, and P had not been there to save him, this time. P hadn't been there. This had happened because of him.

It had all happened because of him.

All the way down to him inviting Allidoro to the hotel. His father had warned him about inviting everyone to the hotel, but P hadn't listened. He hadn't obeyed. He hadn't done what his father said. And because of that, his father had been taken from him. It had been the alchemsits. The alchemists, who were turning people into monsters. What were they going to do to his father?

It scared him, and he still hated being scared.

It wasn't just Alidoro, he thought, as he turned back down the corridor. It had been the fox and the cat. They had said their next job was for the alchemists. They must have known about this. He had trusted them too. He had suspected they were lying, but he'd thought they were good.

It was all P's fault.

He couldn't remember feeling angry, but he was angry, now. Furious. Hot. Not warm, like when he was happy, or proud. This was an itching, raging anger that made him want to fight. P had never wanted to fight like this. This feeling made him want to hit and maim and hurt something. He wanted to let out the burning rage onto something; to destroy something and have the satisfaction of knowing he had done that.

He retreated back to the lobby, becuase he hadn't trusted himself around the others. He didn't want to shout at them. He didn't want to hurt them. He couldn't risk hurting the people he cared about.

P looked at the gramophone in the lobby. The table it sat on was chipped, but the gramophone itself was in tact. He'd spent a long time listening to its records; loved listening the music, and how it skipped and crackled sometimes. But now, he wanted to smash it. Into pieces. It was so delicate, and it would be so beautiful to break it. To use his own hands to destroy such a beautful, delicate thing.

"Clever one."

He turned, to see Sophia there. His anger swirling like a hurricane inside him. He clenched his jaw, so he wouldn't shout at her, because he didn't want to shout at Sophia. He clenched his fists, and kept them clenched at his sides.

Sophia was soft, as soft as she always was. Her blue eyes looked at him, sadly. "I don't believe you've ever felt rage before, have you?"

P couldn't even shake his head. His chest heaved with a burning breath. "I've never wanted to destroy before."

"That's because you are just." Sophia stepped forward, her dress moving gracefully around her. She held out a hand, as if she was going to touch his cheek, but then stopped, as if she was afraid to touch him. "You don't have to destroy, now, darling."

He didn't want her to be afraid - not of him. He didn't want to be angry, anymore. He caught her hand, and tugged it to him, feeling clumsy. Sophia leant closer, unfurling her fingers to cup his cheek.

"How?" How could he stop being furious?

"Take a breath," Sophia said. "Keep breathing, and it will get easier. You can control that anger, and save it for the people you're truly angry at."

P tried to breathe. He wondered how breathing even helped, when he was a puppet. But it did. When he took a long breath, he felt some of the fire die down. It brought him back to himself. He leant into Sophia's touch, his heart racing. He kept breathing, searching her face. Her eyes were like sapphires; were the same deep blue as Ergo.

"Or, you can let it pass," she said. "You can let it wash over you, like a wave."

"I want that." He didn't like anger. Anger didn't make him feel like himself. Anger made him feel like he was going to do something terrible.

"Then you do that, clever one."

Sophia smiled at him. She brushed his hair back, behind his ear, her finger trailing down his jaw. The touch was so gentle compared to the violence he wanted to commit. Was this how the Black Rabbit had felt, when he'd wanted to take P apart? Was this how that donkey-man had felt, on the bridge, when he'd wanted to kill Geppetto? Could he blame either of them, for their feelings?

Being a human, he was finding, was much more difficult than he'd ever thought. There were so many different kinds of pain. There was so much more that he hadn't felt, and didn't know if he could stand feeling.

P nodded. He caught her hand again, and squeezed it gently. He wanted her to be closer. When Sophia was close to him, he felt he could be good; he felt as though he was more than Geppetto's puppet.

"My dearest friend!"

It was Venigni's voice. P turned towards the sound, and he knew Sophia was slipping away. She always did, whenever anyone else was there. He didn't understand it, but thought if he asked, she would hide from him too. Now, he wished she would stay. She always knew what to say to bring him back to himself.

By the time Venigni had made his way down the stairs, P stood alone in the foyer. For once, Venigni looked a mess; his hat gone, hair a mess, coat akimbo. He was panicked; of course he was. They'd been terrified, without him. How could he had let that happen?

"Oh, grazie a Dio!" he said. "When you rushed from the room, I thought...well, I'm glad you've not done anything hasty, compagno."

P shook his head. His hair swayed with the movement.

"Good, good." Venigni brushed his own hair back. His hand shook. "Because, forgive my saying so, you are not prepared to rush off to another battle."

P supposed he wasn't. His legion arm needed tuning up, and now the anger had dulled, he felt pain where he'd been hit in the fight. Not to mention the blood, jamming up his legion arm. Geppetto had always cleaned the blood off him. Had always kept him perfect.

"I'm alright," he lied.

"You may be alright, but my beautiful arm is not." Venigni closed the gap between them. He caught P's wrist before he could pull away, turning it over to examine his palm. P could pull away, if he wanted to - but he didn't. "I cannot allow you to shame me by fighting with this."

"My father always repaired me," P said. He didn't realise it would hurt to say, but it did. His father had always been there.

Venigni stopped, for a moment. He nodded, then. "I am sorry about what happened to Geppetto. But will you allow me to help you?"

P looked at his legion arm. He had never cleaned or fixed it himself. Not anything more than Venigni's repair tool, wich gave it a second lease of life but didn't fix it for good. He didn't know if he could do it himself; his father had never given him the chance.

He nodded.

"Thank you." Venigni did smile. Did look genuine, if still shaken. "Step into my office, if you will."

If P had been in a better mood, he would have smiled. Instead, he nodded, and stepped towards Venigni's space. Pulcinella clunked down the stairs, watching them, almost hesitantly.

Did he have an ego, too, P wondered? Did he also have a human soul within him?

He laid his arm on Venigni's worktable, and he could see it now. Could see the dozens of small repairs that needed to be completed before it would work well again. Could feel, now, that it was an effort to make it work. Now the anger was gone, he felt drained.

Venigni paused, over it. He looked at P, as though he was expecting him to object. P took a deep breath, letting go of the last drags of anger. He nodded, again, setting his jaw.

"I cannot imagine how you must be feeling." Venigni sought for his tools, thumping the bag down on the table. He started work, easing P's fingers into place and taking off the plating.

He didn't want to look. Not this time.

"Geppetto is a good man," Venigni said.

He was the creator. It had been on that recording, from the King of Puppets. From Romeo. Geppetto was the creator, and all the puppets had been obeying Romeo, but also Geppetto. Romeo, it seemed, was also bound by that covenant. His own creator had destroyed him.

He hadn't told Venigni about that. He'd lied, and said he hadn't been able to hear, either.

How far would his father hurt him, if he needed to?

"Ergo is humans," he said, instead. He thought it best that someone else knew.

"Excuse me?" Venigni asked.

P looked at him. "Ergo is human souls. That's why puppets release it when they're destroyed. The monsters too, they release it, when they die."

Ergo and ego didn't sound too different. Pulcinella had paused at the doorway. What was he thinking? It was easier for P to wonder that, than to keep thinking about his father. His father who must have known about the ergo. Who had given P an ergo heart.

What was in P's heart?

"The Head Alchemist is using ergo to create monsters. To evolve humans, he said," P continued.

"That's awful." Venigni paused in his work, to look at him. P stared back. "And now they've taken Geppetto too."

"Because he knows about Ergo." Or because it would draw out P again? He wasn't sure. He knew he was going to get his father back. He was going to be a good son; he was going to be a good boy.

"That is their mistake." Venigni continued his work, and relief shoot through P. He felt his arm fixing. "I have never seen anything you cannot triumph over, bello."

Because P was made to destroy. Designed to destroy. The very arm Venigni was fixing was a weapon. Finally, he felt he could put his weapons to good use.

P didn't answer. He waited, feeling his arm be fixed. He brushed Gemini's lantern with his spare hand, waiting. He wanted to go. He wanted to go now, becuase if he was fighting, he wasn't thinking. If he thought too much, he'd realise what everything meant.

And he didn't want that. Suddenly, surely, he didn't want the puzzle pieces to fall into place.

"Thank you," he said, when Venigni released his arm, declaring it was as good as new. It shone in the gas lamps.

"I know I am not as fine a maker as Geppetto," Venigni began again, pausing longer this time, looking over him. "But there are...other repairs. If you'd permit me, I could..."

He trailed off, gesturing to P's chest. His heart. He had internal repairs that needed seeing to; he felt that too. Felt like he was overheating.

P put his hand over his heart. It was racing. He looked at Venigni. This man had irritated him, often, but this man was a friend. His friend. Looking at him earnestly form behind his glasses.

He trusted him.

P nodded. "Alright."

Venigni blinked, shocked. Then he beamed, like a child in a sweetshop. P couldn't help smiling, a little. He lifted himself, so he sat on the table, pushing back to make himself comfortable. He unbuttoned his coat, and his waistcoat. Pushed open his shirt, and realised he'd never done that before. Had never gotten to do that before, because his Father had always been the one to do it. It was strange, to do it himself; to make a decision.

Venigni's fingers hovered, over his chest plate, pausing.

This feltintimate, P realised. Venigni could break him, if he felt inclined. His life was in this man's hands.

He put his hand on Venigni's wrist, meeting his eyes. Venigni stared back, and nodded.

And Venigni opened him up, and got to work fixing him. P waited, sparks dancing through him, and watched Venigni's expression. It was different to watching his father. Geppetto was impassive, methodical. Venigni's eyebrows twitched, his mouth moved, as he worked.

"You're beautiful," Venigni murmured. "Truly, you are – a masterpiece."

He was a copy. P knew that, now. He was a copy of the little boy in the portrait; a copy of Carlo. But how could he resent his father for doing that, now he had been taken? How could he have been suspicious of him? How could he have been such a bad son, when his father had always been good to him?

P smiled, a little, and let Venigni work. He was grateful for Venigni had made him stop. This gave him time to think. If he'd rushed on, straight away, he worried he might have done something terrible.

He might have killed, without his father telling him to. Might have not felt remorse for hurting humans.

Could he do that?

He might have to do that, now, as he pursued the alchemists.

Venigni closed P's chest. His hand lingered, on his bare skin. He looked up, and P realised they were close. Very close, and Venigni was examining him. His glasses were low on his nose, and his eyes seemed bare without them.

"You are beautiful," he repeated.

P felt warm. This wasn't about his mechanics; it was about his appearance. He didn't want to say that it wasn't his face. It was Carlo's. He put his hand over Venigni's.

"Thank you," P murmured. This made him feel alive; his heart whirring.

Venigni smiled, softly. "May I?"

P wasnt sure what he was asking, but he nodded, all the same.

Venigni reached up, with his spare hand, and tucked P's long hair behind his ear. It was different to how his father touched him; this wasn't maintenence; this was something more. Something closer to Sophia. This was touch.

"Buorna fortuna, my friend."

Venigni pressed his lips against P's cheek. On one side, and then the other. He stepped away, and P felt sparks on his skin. He blinked. Found himself smiling, ducking his chin like he was embarrassed. He was embarrassed. He could feel, even if he shouldn't be able to. He nodded.

Eugenie arrived, then. She brushed her hair back, retying it, adjusting her glasses.

"I am sure your weapons need a buff up too," she said. She looked nervous. "Or perhaps I can improve them before you head out again?"

P nodded, drawing his blade. He held it out on his palms. "Thank you. Both of you."

He had a team. He had friends, who were ready to repair him and his weapons. For once, Eugenie didn't smile, as she looked over his sword. She worked silently, and hard, whilst he paced. Tested his arm.

Noticed the puppet they'd used for sparring was broken, on the floor. Did that puppet have an ego too?

P leant against the door of the hotel, listening to Venigni and Pulcinella's soft voices and the sound of Eugenie tinkering. His friends had calmed the fury inside him.

Now he was ready to save his Father.

P suspected he'd known, before the beach. Long before the beach, though he couldn't say how much longer. Just that he'd known, even before he saw the memories.

He stood, his boots half-buried in the sand, and finally admitted it.

"My Ergo is Carlo."

Gemini didn't chirp. For a moment they stood there, together, the wind whipping P's clothes. Sand buffeted his cheeks.

"Do you remember...being him?" Gemini asked.

"No." P's heart thudded. He wondered if that was Carlo, trying to get out. "No, I only remember parts, but it's like..a book. I remember these things and I know they happened, but it doesn't feel like it happened to me."

He was Carlo. But he wasn't. He had been Carlo, once, and now he had Carlo's Ergo in his heart, yet Carlo hadn't returned. The boy in these memories didn't feel like him.

He stepped forward. The waves washing to the shore sounded very far away.

"My Father knew that."

Gemini paused, again. "Yeah, I think you might be right about that, Pal."

"He built me to replace him."

P knew that. He thought he'd known when he saw the portrait, for the first time. He'd known, but hadn't let himself realise it. Perhaps he'd even known before that. Perhaps, when he was presented with Carlo's old uniform, and Geppetto had looked at him like that, as if he was looking for something inside him. He had Carlo's ergo, he was built to look like Carlo.

And he wasn't.

It explained all of those looks that he didn't understand. Every time it felt like he'd said something wrong. It hadn't been what Carlo would do. He had failed. He wasn't Geppetto's boy. He couldn't be.

"Pal?" He heard Gemini's voice distantly. He hadn't moved, he realised, he still stood on the beach, the wind whipping his hair across his face. His hair. That had been why his father wanted to cut it. P hadn't let him.

"If I had been better, this wouldn't have happened." If he'd been a better replacement for Carlo.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Gemini's lantern glowed brighter, to get his attention. He looked down at it, blinking. "You didn't kidnap Geppetto. You were doing what he said. Going to the Grand Exhibition."

"He told me not to trust anyone outside the hotel."

"And I'm sure glad you did."

"Carlo wouldn't have." He felt sure of that. Felt sure that Carlo had only trusted Romeo.

"Maybe. But it was trusting people that got you the cure for Lady Antonia. It was trusting people that got Eugenie closure about her family. It was trusting people that helped us get this far, kid."

"Those were all lies."

"And that makes you better than Carlo."

P raised an eyebrow at Gemini. "Maybe Carlo was a good liar."

"You tell me."

P knew. He knew that Carlo was an atrocious liar. "He wasn't."

"See, I can't tell if you're lying or not."

P couldn't help it. He smiled, just a little. That could have been Gemini's plan all along; to lift his spirits. He still felt entirely weighed down, but not quite so terrible – not quite so terrible that he wasn't Carlo.

He took a step. The memories continued around him. He hadn't wanted to be Carlo. He'd known that.

But he did still want to be a son.

He let the memories form around him, let them fill up the gaps in his mind, and understood what Carlo's life had been like. Understood Carlo was gone, now. P may have his Ergo and his memories, but he wasn't Carlo any longer. That boy was gone. Maybe Ergo wasn't quite human souls. Perhaps there was more to what a human soul was.

Perhaps he still carried part of Carlo, but now it nestled alongside something else. Hi owns?

"Gemini." They'd reached the steps of the great, stone building. It loomed so large that it seemed to have become one with the stony, grey sky.

Perhaps he still carried Carlo's soul, but now it nestled alongside something else. His?

"Gemini." They'd reached the steps of the great, stone building. It loomed so large that it seemed to have become one with the stony, grey sky. "Do you think it's possible? To develop a soul?"

Gemini didn't answer straight away. His light flickered.

"You know, pal," he said. "I think anything's possible."

P smiled. He stepped forward.

He didn't know what he was going to do, when he met his father again.

But he did know who he was, now. He wasn't Carlo.

He was P.

#one more chapter #lies of p #pinocchio #lies of p venigni #lies of p sophia #lies of p player character #lies of p p #turnupswrites #fanfiction

7 notes · View notes