#Still didn't understand it's mechanics

[sounds-in-the-fog]

So, on the front of Reverse 1999 (global) events so far we have:

Rimet cup: "My name is Inigo Montoya. You (kinda?) killed my father. Prepare to be humiliated by a dog"

Green lake: he-he horror movies. He-he lesbian centaur. (So nobody will admit Jess is kinda a yandere-ish?)

Journey to Mor Pankh: Academic burnout is real. Depression is silent. Discrimination is widespread. ✨stars are pretty✨

[babygirltangerine]

[gideonisms]

why did she ship john/karkat. who ships john with anyone

[stargazerdaisy]

Within the first 15 minutes of work (keep in mind, I logged in 15 minutes early), I've been hit by three different disputes where customers think they don't have to pay for work performed. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[unproduciblesmackdown]

in passing saw a scene and a half of Young Sheldon like in this day and age can a new series (didn’t it start like idfk. last year. maybe the year before) where clearly a premise is audiences being familiar with your “we all know people who are just Like That right” character archetype it’s like. writers have to be at all aware that so much of that always overlaps with like unknowing caricatures of autistic people, right. and you’ve also made a premise the Young part so like, now the butt of the joke is like 7 or something

anyways from what i immediately gleaned the episode’s bit had to do with 7 or something young sheldon being preoccupied with trying to reconcile inconsistent details of lotr lore. in the first half scene a teacher remarks in front of the whole class that it is bad enough to be around young sheldon for an hour a day. in the next scene some [the comic book store guy who is a hippie and lore nerd] is listening to young sheldon and i’m like oh nice so this will be about how something uninteresting / weird to some is not universal and this guy will act normal to young 7 or something sheldon. the guy does and gives a knowledgable response & then you know, there’s young sheldon basically just clearly expressing the response in an involved / specific way some would find unusual, and then the punchline is comic guy having whatever revelation about getting to be normal now b/c he’s like gosh do i sound like that to other people

and i mean you know, given what we get when it’s like, this character is Textually Autistic. or even when like it’s a reality show and people are autistic and everything’s framed in xyz way. out here where sometimes winston [clearly of that “we all know people who are just Like This” genre] billions is given such verisimilitude / there are certain details at times that make it like, could anyone on the writing side of things be aware that this Could be a “oh, parodied Autistic People here” situation, but how then it’s like well would you even want them to know if the fundamental “punching bag / butt of jokes” status isn’t changed, which hasn’t yet ever changed for winston (though he is also a plot device in others’ character arcs, so he can get material re: that sometimes which lets him Not be currently punched / treated as a joke) so kind of have to presume it won’t. wherein like the highest hopes here even re: “you realize this is an autistic character, inadvertently” does in fact hinge on letting winston’s idiosyncracies simply ever be invoked in material that is at all sympathetic / just treats it seriously or you know, more matter of factly ever. where now it’s like well if winston & tuk being friends continues to be anything rather than a momentary joke to get winston, a third of tmc, out of the other two thirds of tmc’s way for a while, that’ll be the closest to winston being treated normally / sympathetically / matter of factly but probably only b/c tuk Also can be given [punching bag / butt of the joke] material so it’s like, well two wrongs make an amicable interaction....penning an open letter short essay to the writers that just goes “why do you think a character based at all on A Way Actual People Can Be would be universally regarded via a perspective that firmly Others him” like why are we never ever given winston any arcs for his own sake examining his emotions & motivations when this is a series about that, and not bringing up that i think he is autistic b/c then it’s like, well i’d just expect any incorporation to be like, we know winston is textually autistic, while characters & the material are as dismissive to hostile as ever lol, like well especially if the material itself operates the same, that is a bit worse. however if i was talking to will roland or his mother i would be more open about it all. or any other actors perhaps lol. if i had brian koppelman on the line i would ask for david levien but still be skeptical.

[noxtivagus]

I LOVE FINAL FANTASY SO MUCH

[drakessis]

going to make a list of things I've literally never seen in a sims story

surrogacy

Ok thank you I couldn't think of anything else but I'll come back to this if I do

[incendiorum-arch]

i am actively, actually, going to go fucking insane

[wyvernest]

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[thecatspasta]

Inspired by @arrgh-whatever's post on helping ppl with BPD

Edit bc I forgot to add this: Being vulnerable means smth different for different ppl, something that could read as being vulnerable to you can read as just another Tuesday for someone else

[ID: a simply-drawn comic, narrated by a person coloured-in in pink.

Panel 1: The pink person narrates: "So there's a lot of "signs your ex is a narcissist and how to deal with them" and it's not very accurate. So here's how to actually "deal" with a narcissist from someone with narcissistic personality disorder."

Panel 2: This panel has the heading: "1. Supply." The pink person narrates: "People with NPD have very fragile self-esteem, and supply is what keeps us from having a mental breakdown. Supply can be many things, but often attention and praise are effective. Stuff like "Wow! That's super cool!!" can go a long way." A person is shown saying this to another person, who smiles.

Panel 3: This panel has the heading: "2. Criticism." The pink person narrates: "Oh boy. So narcissists take things as personal very easily. It's because if anyone contradicts our delusions that we have built our entire self-image on, it feels like you are attacking us as a person." There is an example shown, where one person says "hey, you were a bit too rude back there," but the other person hears "You're an awful dick no-one likes." The alternative manner of phrasing is suggested as "Hey, you were a bit too rude. You're cool, but some people took it poorly." The second person in this example thinks "I'm still a cool person. It's not my fault, but I can do things to be better." The narrator continues, "We don't really understand the concept of a harmless mistake."

Panel 4: This panel has the heading: "3. Boundaries." The pink person narrates: "With narcissists, setting down strict boundaries is very important. 1. Knowing we have hurt you because you didn't set down boundaries can really upset and annoy us because the delusions that we can do no wrong and know you best get broken. 2. If you let us break boundaries, it can lead us to see you as "weak" and devalue you. Communication is key."

Panel 5: This panel has the heading: "4. Anger." The pink person narrates: "So people with NPD tend to be prone to anger. This is a defense mechanism, because to us, it's either facing the inaccuracies of our delusions and having a mental breakdown, or blaming something else. We do not mean to lash out; we just don't have the skills to cope properly. You can help by: 1. Letting us express out emotions without judgement; 2. giving us praise or attention; and 3. Distracting us from what angered us." Each example of how to help is accompanied by a small cartoon.

Panel 6: This panel has the heading: "5. Other NPD things!" The pink person narrates: "'Love bomb, devalue, discard' is actually: we are genuinely obsessed with you and want you to recognize us as cool, we lose that obsession and move on, we feel threatened in some way and lash out. We can't really handle being seen as vulnerable. We take sympathy and empathy as pity and pity as you telling us we're weak. Not acknowledging we're being vulnerable and acting as if nothing is wrong can be helpful in these situations. People with NPD have a very warped view of reality. We do not mean to hurt you and often do not realise we have. Remember, this won't work for everyone, and talking is very important."

/end ID]

Ty to @aromanticsky for the id

[lovrspell]

First time

Pairing: Astarion x Gn!Reader.

Summary: a little throwback to when Astarion received aftercare for the very first time — from you.

Warnings: Fluff. Suggestive. Mentions of abuse/trauma. Inability to manage displays of affection. Vampire bite. Blood sucking. Aftercare.

Word count: 2,3k

Masterlist.

Looking back in time and examining your relationship with Astarion now and several months ago, you realize how much progress you have made together. Astarion, especially.

Now, he trusts, loves, and cherishes you effortlessly, finding comfort in the familiarity of your presence. Your intimate moments are a source of joy, marked by the tenderness of your comforting kisses and caresses. He's accustomed to it all.

But... Before, things were different.

Sometimes you recall the times when he shamelessly hit on you, and you're surprised that you deluded yourself that it was real interest, at least in the beginning — he used it as a defense mechanism, it was something rooted in him.

As for your first night together, it was... Well, it was definitely memorable.

———

“...Are you okay?" you asked, still out of breath from the passion you two just shared. The air in the tent was humid — you had quite the experience.

He turns to you, that usual smirk of his playing on his lips. “W-.. A-ha! Why wouldn't I be okay? I could finally taste you. Of course I'm okay.”

You gave a slight nod, lying down again. Astarion had already sat up, and in that position you could capture even the smallest details of that huge scar on his back you noticed earlier while you undressed him — but you didn't dare to ask about it yet.

In a brief spell of silence, you found yourself teetering between the realms of dreams and reality. The tranquility was interrupted by the sound of a forced cough. Abruptly, your eyes opened to the sight of Astarion staring down at you, fully clothed, wearing a somewhat snarky expression.

He looked anxious. Not his usual self, for sure.

In your half-asleep state, seeing him like that worried you. Were you talking in your sleep, by any chance? Were you drooling?

“What's— What's wrong?”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight from hip to hip.

“It's kind of late, darling.” his tone had something almost impatient about it.

“I guess it is.”

Poor, oblivious you.

In that moment, you witnessed such confusion in him that it made you blink a few times; you couldn't wrap your head on where he was trying to go with that.

Parallelly, he couldn't understand you. Usually he offered his body, the other person took advantage of it and then… They left. But you? You were still there. And you hadn't even bothered to get dressed.

It was natural finding it a bit peculiar to see you still in his tent several moments after your climax. Was there a silent invitation for another round lingering in the air? Was he supposed to read between the lines?

A few moments of silence lingered as he gazed at you, perplexed. You returned the same gaze until a subtle shift in your expression hinted a realization –

Perhaps he sought some personal space.

Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, you blushed, not wanting to come across as intrusive.

“You want me to go?”

He's lost in his thoughts and, very unlikely of him, at a loss of words, apparently. It seems like his brain was trying to process too many informations at the same time, resulting in him going silent.

But you, at the time, as accustomed as you were and still are to gentle kissing and lingering caresses after the thrills of sex, recognized his behavior as annoyance towards your presence; therefore feeling unwanted you took it personally. Still, you didn't want to be on his tail.

“...Alright.”

You began to gather your clothes rather quickly, which were scattered here and there around the tent. As you absentmindedly buttoned your shirt, his gaze was fixed on you.

“See you tomorrow, Astarion. Thank you for... This. Good night.”

The fact that you thanked him for having sex with you baffled him enough, but never as much as the little kiss you planted on his cheek before leaving his tent. Simple and tender.

The tent flap swayed back and forth gracefully, following the lead of the gentle wind on a quiet night. His gaze lingered on the space where you had just been, right in front of him.

What was that?

He tried to think clearly.

During this shared night, he found no compulsion to wander far, to delve into the empty, dark yet strangely comforting realm he usually retreats to in moments like these — while to no one's surprise he effortlessly entered that familiar mental space without conscious effort.

He had sex with you because he knew no other way to gain your trust and protection. That looming, self-loathing sensation is still there, clawing under his skin and nibbling at his self respect with a trillion sharp teeth — but that kiss... That simple kiss on the cheek made him feel something he can't quite define. It's new and scary.

He wondered if it was really necessary to do all this to have your support in this journey.

He was too accustomed to the life he led under Cazador's command — seducing to survive. You're the first person he's willingly had sex with since escaping Cazador and he wasn't even fully into it; the thought upsets him.

Perhaps he's overthinking a simple kiss on the cheek.

But was it that simple?

The thoughts reached a deafening crescendo, and, as if emerging from a dream, he blinked several times and looked around, dazed. He needed to rest.

———

It's been a while since your sexual encounter. Astarion has not failed to make some teasing remarks about it every now and then, alluding to a second chance to indulge in each other again.

That second opportunity occurred, but several days after the first. It happened when you told him that he could feed on you that night and agreed that you would meet at your tent.

Astarion came to visit you late in the evening, when almost everyone had already retired to their tents. He found you reading a book, lying on your stomach.

“Hello, darling.” he greets you, his voice a sound that wakes you from your trance from the huge book you were absorbed into.

“Hi,” you reply distractedly, turning quickly towards him and taking the opportunity to stretch. You pushed the book aside, closing it.

It seemed that over the course of the day you had forgotten that you had proposed him to feed on you — the look of surprise on your face that dissolved rather quickly gave it away. You were visibly tired, he noticed. However, as soon as your eyes met his, you offered a gentle, sheepish smile — the kind reserved for moments when words become wearisome.

Allowing him to feed on you even when it seemed that all you wanted to do was rest stirred a semblance of life in his chest.

You sat up, adjusting comfortably. “I’m ready.” you informed him, moving the fabric of your clothing away from your neck to expose it to him.

Astarion stared at you, and for a moment he didn't say or do anything. He wanted to do something different this time, not just bite you, suck your blood, and then return to his tent. No, he wanted to try something new.

Instead of bringing his mouth to your neck, he brought it to your lips. He kissed you slowly, introducing his tongue in your mouth tentatively — but when he felt the natural tension vanish from your body, he brought his hands to your waist and deepened the kiss.

Astarion felt you melt in his arms, remembering how you had let yourself go the same way a few nights before.

Your hands came up to rest on his shoulders; Astarion leaned towards you until you were laying down. His lips separated from yours with a pop and only then did he place them on your neck. But even there, before sinking his sharp fangs into your skin, he planted a few kisses here and there.

He persisted, leaving a trail of kisses that moistened your neck. His lips traced a path to a point just under your ear, where he planted an open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, you experienced a sharp, dull pain spreading rapidly in that spot. You hissed, clutching his shirt tightly and exhaling sharply; you heard a soft hum coming from him as he immediately began swallowing mouthfuls of your warm, succulent blood.

That little kissing ritual was to thank you, in a way. You were and have always been available to him, despite his bad temper and grumpy tendencies.

As he fed, the movement of one of your hands moving from his shoulders distracted him.

Next, he felt the touch of a gentle hand running through his hair.

He was so focused on sucking your blood that he didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Accordingly, he felt the distinct touch of your warm hand move across his cheek and cupping it.

What are you doing?

Your tender touch left him puzzled. Akin to a feather's caress, it cradled him in a way that stirred a desire more profound than any teasing or vulgar contact could evoke.

You felt him grunt against you, the guttural sound vibrating through your being.

Those touches reminded him of that kiss you had printed on his cheek after your night together; his stomach twisted in contrasting sensations.

He pulled away from you after a few seconds, but your caresses didn't stop. Your blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his hair disheveled as a result of your fingers combing through his curls.

“What's up?” you asked, trying not to giggle at the fact that he looked like he had just woke up. You reached an hand in his hair to fix some wild curls back in their place.

He didn't answer at first, but then he shrugged slightly.

“Nothing.” he muttered softly, his body moving in your direction almost without his control. He was experiencing new things within himself, things he had never felt before.

A desire. A genuine desire, nothing that had to do with that of a few evenings prior. Despite his less-than-noble intentions previously, he openly acknowledges being drawn to you. However, unlike before when intimacy served a strategic purpose, this time things are different.

He craves you spontaneously, yielding to the impulse of the moment. While leaning in for a passionate, bloody kiss on your lips, he pledges not to flee from this moment or from you. No mental refuge exists now, just two bodies entwined and two souls merging into one another.

The tenderness of that kiss amazed you.

You feel his arms wrap around your waist to lift you up in his lap, kisses trailing down your neck to suck briefly on the holes he left in it.

One thing led to another and a few minutes later, you were both naked and nestled into each other.

Astarion was thrusting his hips into you breathlessly, continuing just to try drawing another orgasm out of your guts before you pull apart. This has been going on for a while now; he has absolutely drained you. In every way.

You had noticed a certain vigor in him, which was not given solely and exclusively by the fact that he had just made an excellent reserve of blood. He felt alive, present, current. He was there with you, made a puddle in your arms while you cradled each other through your collective ecstasy.

If the first time his gaze seemed empty and absent, often far from yours, now it was bright and lively, never too distant from your own. It was impossible not to notice the difference.

When the rush of pleasure died down, he pulled away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He came down from above you to lie next to your body; both sweaty and out of breath, you remained silent for several minutes.

You anticipated for him to leave as soon as possible, given the discomfort he displayed that evening when you prolonged your stay just a bit, expecting to spend some time together after your sexual activity.

But he remained there, next to you, his expression thoughtful but relaxed. You assumed he didn't want to leave just yet.

However, just as that pleasant, inviting thought etched itself into your beliefs, he sat up and reached for his undergarments dispersed around the tent.

You frowned, sitting up and reaching for his arm without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait... Why don't you stay?”

You didn't fail to catch him off guard this time, too. Your voice had such a sweet, pleading edge to it.

“We can talk, we can... We can even just be silent together. Do you want to?”

He guessed it couldn't hurt to try.

He lay down again, putting his clothes aside. He saw you smile from the corner of his eye as you did the same, this time lying on your side.

One of your hands carefully came up to caress his chest tentatively. The tips of your nails scratched his skin deliciously, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at you; he was confused, disorientated.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like it?”

“...I do.”

“Then just enjoy it.”

He followed your advice.

In that instant, he embodied a certain beauty that surpassed his usual charm. Surrendering to your soothing enfolds, he reached a blissful state, breaking down every wall and baring his soul to you. Every muscle in his body eased into relaxation. He scoots closer until he's basically all curled up in your arms, melting against your comforting heat.

That night, he shared a peaceful slumber with you, and to this day, he never ceases to express his profound gratitude for the invaluable gift of your love.

You made his dead heart start beating again.

[quantummindclassicalheart]

I think Brennan did something interesting with the Porter and Gorgug scene in the last episode. Porter is by all appearances a competent Barbarian teacher. He understands the role of Rage and its mechanical combat benefits, and he even recognizes how Gorgug uses Rage to protect those he cares about. But he doesn't understand how multiclassing into a caster fits into that framework.

And it's true! In 5e you can't cast or concentrate on spells in a Rage. But-- Artificers work a little different than other casters! Alchemist Elixirs and Arcane Cannons aren't technically spells. Arcane Armor just works. And so does the Steel Defender.

Of any caster I think the Artificer is probably the best-suited to multiclass Barbarian because their key subclass features are largely not spells. But it also runs into the problem of requiring multiple high stats. Barbarians already want high STR and CON, and Artificers need INT for their spells and spell saves.

And so there's this narrative tension here. Brennan the DM obviously wants to let his player have fun with the character build-- embracing the creative artificer side of himself is a great character moment for Gorgug, bearer of the tin flower. Someone who has always channeled Rage to protect those he cares about but who has also been called to create and preserve beauty.

And yet mechanically, it's a difficult build. We didn't see Gorgug cast anything in the Night Yorb battle, as far as I recall? And in-universe, classes are a formally recognized thing that require approval. But Gorgug can't be the kind of Barbarian that Porter wants him to be. So he has to show that he can be a different kind of Barbarian-- one whose magic integrates and synergizes with his Rage rather than opposing it.

We see Gorgug still insecure about his homunculus and about the solar lasso, even though these are objectively impressive feats. So it's not a skill issue but an internal conflict-- it's only once Gorgug reconciles and synthesizes his magic with his Barbarian side that the in-world powers that be will recognize him for all of who he is.

[russellsppttemplates]

Never letting you go (Max Verstappen)

There was nothing stopping you and Max now

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first Max big piece to sort of introduce their arc, let me know what you think! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jos forbidding Max and reader of dating, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"What do you mean you're going to the Grand Prix?", you quirked your brow as your friend Cara sipped her coffee, "I thought you said you'd never be caught dead one of those", you chuckled.

"Matthew's company got a bunch of passes because they got a deal with one of the sponsors - I think? - I don't know much about it, all I know is that he brought three home because he thought you'd like to join us", she offered.

You never hid how much you enjoyed watching Formula One, even if watching it, especially in the last couple of years, often brought emotionally heavy memories back.

"That's nice, count me in! What type of passes are they?", you questioned, taking a bite from the cake on your plate.

"I don't know, he was talking all about them and I must admit I zoned out", she admitted, "but he said they were really good! He was very surprised at what the passes had, but his boss is very cheap so I don't know how great they actually are considering the possible comparison", she smiled as you nodded, "count me in, though. It's been a while since I stepped foot on one of them", you recalled.

The last race you attended was when Max was in Formula Three still. The paddock was so big and crowded with so many people, you doubted you'd bump into him. It wouldn't do you any good, would it?

"How did you get hospitality passes?", you gasped as Matthew handed you the lanyard, "they've invested a lot of money so I guess the sponsors didn't mind loosening the belt", he shrugged, putting his own around his neck after scanning it.

"Thank you for this, by the way", you flashed him a smile, "no worries, Y/N, the only way I could convince her to come was if you joined us, and I don't mind actually spending the weekend with someone who also knows a little about the sport", he chuckled as Cara laced her arms with her fiancé, "I'm glad he has you to talk to as well, there's only so much feigned interest I can muster up", she rolled her eyes.

Scuderia Alpha Tauri had been Toro Rosso, but despite the name change, as soon as you walked in, some faces were still familiar from the pictures you got sent from Max on gia first season with them.

"Why did you get interested in Formula One anyway?", Matthew asked you while you sipped on a latte, "I always loved the idea of the cars going very very fast, and then when I actually had the knowledge to understand how they worked, they really intrigued me", you offered, "I also had a friend who was very into it, so he also escalated my interest in it".

"He didn't pull you enough to work on motor sport though?", Matt wondered.

"I didn't enjoy the competitiveness of all of it", you admitted, "it's very strict, and if you want to be successful, it takes the good things away - your family, your friends", you opened your heart to him, thankfully noticing it and sorting the heartfelt confession seemingly about a job, "they travel a lot and they're really competitive that is, I'd never be able to do that for a job", you smiled, hoping you saved yourself from further questions.

"That's why you did mechanical engineering, then?", he asked, "for the most part, yes", you replied, "Oh, they're starting free practice", you smiled, looking over to the track from the balcony seats.

Sophie walked into the RedBull hospitality, looking for her family. Because it was Monaco, they felt safe enough to bring the Lio and Luka to the paddock, knowing they would be close to home in case things didn't go well as planned.

"Grandma!", the oldest boy called her from his spot on his father's lap, his brother sleeping on his mother's chest.

"Hey, my dears", she greeted, "You won't believe who I found on my way here", Sophie began, "I'm surprised Max didn't tell me he invited Y/N. It's a shame she isn't here with us, though", she commented.

The first indicator of surprise should be the way the blond woman looked at her mother, "what do you mean Y/N is here?", she whisper-yelled.

"I just saw her in the Alpha Tauri hospitality, I was walking with Helmut and he was headed there, that's when I noticed her. Max didn't tell you?", she quirked an eyebrow just as her son sat down next to them.

"What didn't I tell who?", Max spoke, setting his plate of food down on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us you invited Y/N for this weekend?", Victoria was the first to scold him, hitting his arm in a sisterly manner, "and in Alpha Tauri of all places? I'm sure they would've bent the rules a little and give you a pass so she could be a RedBull guest!".

Max thought he heard incorrectly. Y/N, his Y/N was in the paddock, in the sister team of the one he now drove for.

"I, I didn't offer her anything", Max said, his brother in-law looking at him weirdly as well, "I don't know how or why she is here, but I had nothing to do with it. We haven't spoken in a while", he mumbled. A while, three years, same thing, he supposes.

"Well, I just saw her. You should go say hi, I'm sure she would love to but she can't exactly find you where she is, it has to be the other way around", Sophie offered.

"What makes you believe she would?", Max questioned, both himself and his mother and sister.

"Because the way you never forgot her, she never forgot you", Victoria sterned, "don't you think she deserves your attention? She was in it for the long run, Max, and maybe she has moved on, maybe even has someone", the thought alone made Max loose his cool, "but she was your friend, the person you trusted most in the world and you let her slip".

"Don't sugar coat it, please", Max sarcastically replied.

"It's true, Max, and you know it", Sophie said, sensing her son didn't want to talk about the topic, but not allowing him to leave the table without a piece of her mind as well.

Max needed to put on his suit again, ready for qualifying, walking along the corridor until he found his door.

"Hey, before you go", Victoria called her brother as he was about to go into his driver's room, "Lio is really fussy, so we're just going back to your place, I'm sorry", she said.

"It's fine, whatever you feel the most comfortable with", he said, waving at his nephews and brother in-law.

"We will be supporting you from home, then", she said, kissing his cheek, "And Max? I know you're not used to it, but follow your heart", she smiled.

"Can I do that now?", he softly bit back, smiling and blushing at his words.

"What's stopping you?", Victoria said as she walked back to her family.

"Who is that?", Jos asked as Max asked him if he could invite you over for dinner before the season began.

The conversations with Toro Rosso were getting serious and the opportunity for a seat in Formula One was right there, up for him to grab if he worked enough.

"She's my friend, you know Y/N", Max tried to reason with his father.

"For this to work, Max, I think you need to distance yourself from home", Jos advised, ignoring his mention of you and carrying on with his lecture, "I'm talking no parties, no trips to come and see friends and family - I really think those are just getting in the way between you and the career you deserve".

The statement was clear, and Max knew better than to question it.

"I've spoken to your mother - she wasn't the biggest fan -, but you really need to focus on this", Jos reiterated, "no friends, much less girlfriends", he chuckled.

The dinner ended up being just Jos, Max and Victoria, the thought of having you there quickly erased in his head.

When Max met up with you before he left for the season, he was antsy. Just a week before, you had stolen innocent kisses from eachother's lips and revelled in the feeling of being in eachother's embrace without a care in the world. And it felt good, so good, like the piece that was missing in Max's life finally completed the puzzle.

"Hey", you greeted, kissing the corner of his lips and allowing him to pull you down to sit on the sofa.

"I spoke to my dad, I'm leaving in a few days", Max said, "there's some testing they want me to do still", he mumbled, lacing your fingers in his.

"And where do we end up?", you asked the million euro question. Truthfully, you entertained the thought. Even though being away from Max for most of the year would be a challenge, the love you felt for him was too big, too great for you to forgo that challenge. You were his and he would be yours.

"It's not going to work, Y/N. I need to focus on racing", he stated blankly despite how much it hurt him to utter those words out to you as the conversation with his father resonated with him.

"Max your focus is getting a Formula One seat", his father sterned, "do you know how hard it is? How much effort and work you have to put in? There can't be any distractions!"

"But Y/N isn't a distraction!", Max reasoned. If anything, you were the one keeping him humble and with both feet on the ground at all times. You cared for him, not because of his racing, who he was or who he could become, but because you loved eachother.

You'd never do anything to ruin his career, Max thought as he worked up the courage to tell you all of it. He couldn't get distracted, not now. He couldn't afford making mistakes because he had a girlfriend back at home waiting on him.

Your understanding, however, wasn't aligned with his expectations. He hoped you'd fight, at least, but you swalled your tears and nodded, "okay, Max. I hope you get your seat, you deserve it so much, I know it will happen".

Max put in on pole, leaving you to smile and snap a picture of the moment, wondering if you'd have the courage to send it to him.

"So, does this mean it's over?", Cara asked, "Because I could do with going home, actually", she nudged.

"Let's go, then!", you smiled, putting your phone in your bag and looking for the way out, ending up following the other guests into the paddock.

"Y/N, dear!", you heard someone call your name, and on cue, you looked for the voice despite the fact that it wad unlikely someone recognised you there.

Sophie didn't age, you thought, as you looked at the source of the voice that called you.

"I'm not going to hold you up, guys, you can go!", you smiled, waving at Matthew and Cara once you assured them you would be fine.

"I'm sorry, Sophie - they're my friends, and he was the one who got the passes from his office", you apologised for leaving her to wait a little for you.

"It's alright, dear. It's been so long since I've seen you", she nudged, "I'm sure Max would love to see you, too!", she jumped straight in.

"Would he, though?", you squinted your eyes.

"He would, Y/N", Sophie said earnestly, "I saw you this morning - at Alpha Tauri -, and he knows you're here", she smiled, "I'm assuming you're watching the race, too. Pay him a visit, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder and left a kiss on your cheek, "He's also my ride home, so I need to go look for him! Bye, Y/N!".

Race day meant rush everywhere, so you got to the paddock just in time before everyone rushed inside, finding the perfect spot to watch the race.

"I need to take this call, one second", you said to Cara, recognising Max's contact on your phone.

"Y/N, hi! I didn't think you'd pick up actually", you could hear the nervousness on his voice, "thanks for the picture, by the way, it was very... nice".

"It's no problem really, I thought it would be a good memory to keep", you smiled, "are you ready for the race? Or do you want me to give you a pep talk?", you chuckled. Back in the day, whenever he didn't feel too confident about a race, you had the power to help him out his head in the right place and bring his winning mentality to light.

"I'm fine, actually", he smiled, "I- I was wondering if you'd like to meet up later", he gulped, "I'd like to talk to you, but it's difficult until the race finishes, and then debriefs and media and all that".

"Sure, text me when you're done then", you stated boldly, "have a good race Max, you know I'm supporting you".

"Even if you're with Alpha Tauri?", he joked.

"I never stopped supporting you, it's not going to be a guest pass that's going to change it", you said as he bid you goodbye, ending the call and finding your friends.

When Max won, you clapped unashamedly as everyone else seemed to join you in your excitement, and after the race celebrations were done with, you waited patiently for the text to get to your phone.

"So you're staying back?", Cara asked, "I am, I'm meeting a friend", you explained. At her curious stare, you furthered, "do you remember the guy I told you about when you tried to set up that double date?", she nodded, "yes, the guy you were friends with, and when you both wanted to take a step forward, he had this big shot as his dream career and his father wouldn't allow him to date anyone", she said as she realized, "my goodness, he's here? Y/N, go for it!", she encouraged, "I know you still have feelings for him, who knows? Maybe this is your chance to reconnect", she rubbed your shoulder.

After you bid goodbye to Cara and Matthew, a text go through to your phone.

From: Max

Mum is waiting for you at the door :)

Approaching the hospitality, you quickly spotted Sophie, "c'mon in, dear! Max wanted me to get you myself, he was afraid no one would ler you in", she chuckled, guiding you through until you were in their dining area.

"Y/N!", Max beamed, setting down the crayons he was drawing with at the table with Luka and walking up to you.

"Hey everyone!", you waved at Victoria, putting a pin the two little boys' curious stares as they looked at you so you could hug Max.

"Congratulations, Max, I knew you could do it", you whispered into his skin, his arms hugging you so tightly against him.

"Thank you, Y/N", he spoke, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much", he squeezed you one more time before allowing you to greet the rest of his family.

"This is Tom, and that's Lio and Luka", Victoria said after she hugged you tighlty, "say hi, guys!", she encouraged as the two little copies of Max waved back at you.

"We're going to head home, it was great seeing you, Y/N!", Sophie announced, "I'm sure we'll see eachother a lot more from now on", Victoria complimented, helping her husband pack up the kids' belongings and toys so they could retire to Max's apartment.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime this week", he jumped straight forward, "I'm having dinner with the team today and then the rest of the grid want to go to the club, so I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with you, and I want to be able to just focus on you", he smiled.

"That's fine by me, I appreciate the thought", you smiled as he led you to one of the tables, asking one of the caffé staff for something to drink for the two of you.

“Listen, I think, I think we found each again for a reason", he began boldly, not sure if this was the way to go after not having spoken to you in a couple of years. Still, it wasn't a lie.

"Define found, considering we've been iving in the same city for nearly a year", you smiled, "although you don't spend much time here anyway, so I guess that's a nice enough excuse", you teased, your foot tapping his shin playfully under the table.

"So, Monaco, hm?", Max started, "I didn't expect you to live here out of all places", he nudged, wanting to know more about your move but afraid he was stepping in vulnerable territory.

"I did it because of my earnings for sure. I've got to save as much as I can on tax on the fortune I make as a female engineer", you sternly said as he looked the most surprised you'd ever seen him, "I'm joking - not all of us move to Monaco so our million euro salaries have better taxes", you teased.

"Why did you do it, then?", he asked, smiling at how familiar it all seemed. Just like old times, he thought.

"The company I work for was the one that needed the tax benefits", you clicked your tongue, "and they wanted people to move here. Only one of my colleagues moved here with her whole family, as they expected, so they ended up calling the ones that weren't attached to anything or anyone in particular, and I was one of them", you shrugged your shoulders, "I moved to a new country with a different language, the only people I knew were my work colleagues, so I had no one to complain about them to, but I make it work - at least I like to think I do", you smiled.

Not attached to anyone, he recalled, humming at your response, "it's not such a bad place to live, right? Granted I don't spend much time year, but still enough to appreciate it", Max spoke.

"How about you, Mr World Champion", you nudged, "how does it feel?".

"Obviously it's great, and everything that I worked for", he added, knowing the underlying topic in the conversation, "I get to drive fast cars and I travel the world, there's not much left for it to be the complete dream", he said, gingerly touching your fingers over the table and accepting your hold when you laced them together.

Conversation was flowing easily until one of the employees told Max that he would have to go and get ready for the dinner, meaning you would have to part ways.

"Does Tuesday work for you? I'm not sure how well I'll be tomorrow", he chuckled, "yes, that's fine by me, just text me the address and the time", you smiled, getting up and kissing his cheek, "have a good time, Max, but be careful with the alcohol, I'd hate to have to pick you up again", you reminded him of the time he got way too drunk and he insisted he would only go home if you came to pick him up.

.

Dinner was great and Max invited you back to his place, hoping you'd be able to talk properly about the elephant in the room in a more private and comfortable place.

"You're struggling there, aren't you? Even with your itty bitty small hands?", Max teased as your pinky just about stretched enough for you to not lose everything by dumping the contents of your bag on the sidewalk.

As you and Max left the restaurant, you fiddled with your wallet in your bag, hoping to keep the card the waiter gave you safe for the next time you wanted to visit the place.

"I do not have itty bitty small hands!", you argued, shaking your bag a little to make sure everything was safely in place.

"We need to have the same starting line - like", you rearranged them so your wrists would be touching. Still, it didn't make much of a difference on your end. It looked like it even highlighted a few more differences, "yours is much bigger, I give up", you giggled.

"See?", Max said as he held your hand out against his, "these are the size of fairy hands! Tinkerbell probably has bigger hands than yours!", he exclaimed as you noticed how much bigger his hand was compared to yours. His fingers were a little bit thicker than yours and his palm covered all of your hand almost completely.

Now or never, Max thought as he laced your fingers in his once you let your arms drop and rest by your side. His thumb rubbed your skin and warmed you up, "was this your plan all along?", you wondered, feeling the bravery around you two and choosing to act on it.

"Lacing my hand in yours or proving to you that my biggest mistake was letting you go all of those years ago?", Max stated as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"We should talk about this inside", you bit your lip, allowing him to guide you through the apartment complex he lived in.

His living room was decorated in classy tones, probably with the help of him mother and sister, as you sat down on the sofa and face eachother.

"I know I apologised at the time, but I'm still sorry, Y/N", Max said, "at the time it was the dream and I didn't have much room for my own decisions. Still, I should've fought", he concluded.

"You didn't blatantly acknowledge it and decided we couldn't be together, Max", you conforted despite the hurt you felt at the time, "it hurt, - like a bitch actually -, but not because you were following your dream. I never wanted to pull you back and get in the way of your achievements", you gulped, "but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to give this a go, to give us a chance", you smiled.

"I know I have crazy schedules - I am barely here during the season -, but you were always the one I thought about. When I first raced in F1, when I got my first podium, my first win, my bad races - I wanted you there", he admitted, blue eyes looking into yours, "I can't promise that it will be easy, but I'll never risk you or our relationship, that's non negotiable", he stated.

Moving closer to him, you cupped his cheek with your palm, the slight stubble tickling your skin, "I'm in, Max", you smiled, taking the plunge and kissing his mouth, lips moving in sync as his hands pulled you into his lap.

The blissful moment was interrupted by a meow, Jimmy and Sassy walking into the living room, "Oh, guys", Max held you close to him as the cats sniffled you, "this is Jimmy and Sassy, my cats, took then long enough to leave the guest bedroom", he smiled as you tried to pet them, "cute, they seem nice enough - for cats anyway".

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

»»————-　★　————-««

Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin

[dreamescapeswriting]

Bound By Rivalry ~ JJK

⤜WORD COUNT:2.9K

⤜GENRE: established relationships, University AU, NON IDOL, jungkook being a soft baby boy and protecting the reader

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF READING BEING SLAPPED, BLOOD (Slapped by a professor not by Jungkook)

It was one of the last days before autumn break and this was the last place that Jungkook wanted to be, it should have been on top of the world with his break coming up but instead, he felt a sense of dread washing over him. He'd gotten into a small, maybe a large, argument with one of the other guys in his economics class and had started a scarp in the courtyard, and ended up punching him which now led him to be inside the principal's office. 

"I understand you want to move classes but I need the teacher's permission, he has to sign the form. Without that, there's no way I can move you." A voice Jungkook knew all too well sounded from the door and he glanced over to see his principal - Dale - staring behind him at whoever was in the office with him.

"But you don't understand I need out of there, he's-" The voice stopped and Jungkook stared over at you, biting down on his tongue as he watched you straighten your back a little. Were you trying to switch classes because of him? 

His eyes drifted over you as he took in your appearance, you looked as though you'd been crying but that didn't stop you from being beautiful, not that Jungkook would ever admit that out loud. He hated that he even admitted it to himself. You were smart, quiet, shy and damn right gorgeous.

He didn't like you.

At least that's what he told himself whenever he had to be around you, which was quite a lot. 

No one ever really spoke to you at the University, you were a scholarship kid, and you also worked in the school office during your free periods and in the cafeteria on your lunch breaks. It was why you didn't have many friends at the Uni, no one wanted to be friends with someone who was serving them lunch or working for the principal.

"I'll be with you in a second," Dale's voice was strong and demanding at Jungkook and he smirked at him, waving his hand. 

"Take your time, I'm sure you have much-pressing matters to attend to." He wiggled his eyebrows at Dale's assistant as he walked into his office, leaving you and Jungkook alone as he stared over at you. 

"Switching classes?" Jungkook asked, he had to admit that his interest was piqued at the thought of you moving classes because of him and he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you. You glanced up, startled by his sudden intrusion, you hadn't even realised it was him in the office with you. 

"What's that all about, Yn?" He raised an eyebrow at you and you shook your head,

"It's nothing," You mumbled, attempting to brush off his inquiry with a forced smile, you wanted to get out of his vicinity as quickly as humanly possible but Jungkook jumped up and blocked the doorway. 

"Are you trying to escape the brilliance of my intellect?" He teased, a playful glint in your eyes and you scoffed at him,

"Hardly, Your ego is big enough to fill the entire lecture hall," You quipped at him, but your words lacked the usual bite that Jungkook loved so much. 

The two of you had been battling for the number one spot in the university ever since you had started there and you hated him, maybe hate was a strong word but you disliked him a lot. It didn't matter how hard you studied, or how much effort you put into your work he would always beat you, without studying and all while mouthing back to the teachers and it rubbed you the wrong way. 

Jungkook got to walk through the University as though it meant nothing to him and he still got everything he ever needed handed to him on a silver platter.

"Are you struggling with the workload? Not everyone can handle quantum mechanics." He quipped at you, you rolled your eyes a little and tried to swallow your emotions. There was no use telling anyone what was happening in class, not when they'd dismiss you or take the teacher's side so you just shook your head.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me go." You mumbled at him, slowly looking up at him as he frowned at you. As much as he teased you a lot about everything he wouldn't be happy to watch you leave, who would challenge him? Who would make him want to stay on top of everything? Without you he was nothing. 

"Ah, but where's the fun in being a genius if there's no one to challenge me? Besides, I enjoy watching you squirm whenever I'm around you?" You rolled your eyes at him and sighed, wanting nothing more than to go back to your dorm and rest for the rest of the night, but you had to stop by your physics class and ask the professor a question first and Jungkook wasn't helping by taking up your time.

"You don't make me nervous, as much as you think you do Jungkook."

"Never wanted to make you nervous, sunshine." The nickname sent shivers down your back and you tried to push past him, failing and stumbling back a little.

"Mr Jeon, you'll be here every day during your second period," The sudden sound of another voice in the room made you both turn around,

"What?" You both asked in unison, turning to face the assistant - Daisy - as she smiled over at you both, clearly not realising you weren't friends, not even close.

"As punishment for your fighting with another student, Dale thinks it's fitting for you to be punished this way."

"But I work the second Period." You told her as if she didn't know that already. But there was no way you were going to be able to sit with him for an hour a day for god knows how long so he can tease you more. That one free period was your time away from him.

"Good, you can show him what you do and how to answer the phone."

"But-" You were cut off as Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you shuddered, trying to ignore the tingling feeling you got up and down your back.

"We're going to get so close, Sunshine," Jungkook chuckled and you shoved past him, wanting nothing more than to get out of there as soon as possible, the form to switch classes closely clutched to your chest.

Your footsteps echoed down the corridor as you made your way to Professor Thompson's office, your heart pounding as you tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that was rising in front of you. You didn't want to face him, you never wanted to face him but you didn't have much of a choice. As you reached the door, you paused, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. With a deep breath, you knocked softly on the door,

"Come in," His voice slurred as you took in a deep breath, slowly pushing the door open and heading inside. Your stomach churned at the sight that greeted you, Professor Thompson was sitting slumped behind his desk, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand, his words slurred and disjointed.

"Ah, Miss Y'n, what brings you here?" He sneered at you, it was no secret he hated you, he'd made it pretty clear from day one of you being in his class senior year that he wanted you to get out but you'd stuck it out. As long as you could but he was bringing your grades down, constantly failing you because you were the only woman in his class. A woman that could keep up which seemed to baffle the old drunk, so he'd fail you.

Every paper you handed in would come back with an "F" slapped on the top, the same paper you'd give to another physics teacher who would give you an "A" based on what she'd been reading. Swallowing hard you trembled giving him the paper,

"I need...I need you to sign this, professor. It's a request to transfer out of your class," You hated that you were running from him but he was a drunk and a misogynist who didn't think any woman could handle his work. 

His lips turned into a cruel smirk, his eyes narrowing with malice,

"Ah, so the little mouse wants to run away, does she?" He slurred, getting up from the chair and walking toward you, but stepped back. He was drunk, it wouldn't take much for you to kick him and run but you needed him to sign it first.

"Please, Professor, I just...I can't do this anymore, you're right...A-A woman can't handle it." You lied, trying to plead with him to sign it but his laughter rang out like a gunshot, harsh and mocking.

"Too weak, too stupid! Is that it?" He spat, his voice laced with venom as he stared down at you,

"I knew letting women into the University was a bad idea, especially those who can't afford it," He mocked, your eyes stung with tears but you refused to let them show in front of him. 

Unbeknownst to either of you Jungkook was watching the whole exchange from the doorway, he'd followed after you to bring you your bag but when he heard the exchange it was like he was frozen on the spot.

"Please, just sign the form." You begged, your voice weak and trembling with desperation.

But before you could react, Professor Thompson's hand shot out like a bolt of lightning, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. Pain exploded across your face, hot and searing as you raised your hand to clutch your cheek. You stumbled backwards, your vision swimming as you fought to stay upright, but your hands wrapped around your waist.

"Yn," Jungkook rushed out, his voice filled with a mix of concern and fury, tears blurred your vision as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened, humiliation and fear pressing down on you and suffocating you. 

"Pressor, what you did was utterly despicable. you have no right to treat a student - anyone - like that!" He yelled out at him, turning back to look at you, his heart breaking as he noticed blood running down your cheek. Fury built up inside of him at the sight of you injured, his fists clenching at his side, hitting his teacher would do nothing but it didn't make him want to do it any less. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Thompson slurred out, his head shaking violently at the young man in front of him,

"Don't play dumb with me, I saw everything." He spat out, his voice was cold and unforgiving, you couldn't tear your eyes away from Jungkook, you'd never seen him so protective over someone before. 

"You should be ashamed of yourself! You're a fucking teacher, you're supposed to teach us and yet you choose to abuse your power!"

"I...I'll have you know, I am well within my rights to discipline my students as I see fit," He slurred yet again, 

"It's no longer the 70s Thompson! You can't hit a student," Jungkook boomed, wanting nothing more than to fight the older man.

"I can do whatever I want,"

"You're sorely mistaken, you think for one second I'm going to let you get away with it?" He laughed at him, walking you out of the office and pulling you into a nearby empty class.

You pulled your hand away and noticed your fingers were streaked with blood, you winced a little feeling a fash in your flesh. Drawing your hand away and noticing blood coating your fingers, bright red and thick. He'd cut you, most likely on the class ring he wore and tears rushed to your eyes again.

"Shit," You hissed out, Jungkook gently took your face in his hands and tilted it to look at him, his fingers were shaking as he stared at you. It was a cut on your cheekbone that looked deep but not deep enough for stitches. 

"I can tidy it up, come on." He whispered, about to link his hand in yours but you pulled it away,

"It's covered in blood," You mumbled, not that it would bother Jungkook. Getting to hold your hand was a blessing and he wasn't going to miss out because of a little blood.

"If you think for one second I'm bothered by a bit of blood you're wrong. You're hurt, Yn." He hissed out, his anger still at its boiling point because of Thompson, but as you slipped your hand in his it started to slowly melt away.

"Is he the reason for wanting to move classes?" Jungkook asked as he stood between your legs, your head tilted toward the light as he carefully cleaned up the wound that tainted your gorgeous face. 

"Yeah, he constantly fails me even when I do great. He's a misogynistic asshat," You mumbled, hissing a little as he applied some alcohol to the cut, wiping it clean and making you smile weakly.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with him like that,"

"Only female in the class, he was bound to single me out," You laughed dryly and Jungkook shook his head, gently adding some butterfly stitches to the cut,

"It probably didn't help when I was constantly teasing you though, I am sorry." He murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

"I never should have teased you so much. It was all just in fun, but I crossed a line."

"Jungkook...Your teasing never bothered me," You laughed a little and looked up at him,

"It pushed me to be better than you. I actually enjoy it." You giggle as you admit it to him and Jungkook felt a wave of ease wash over him as he saw you smile again, though he would never get the look of fear washed out of his mind.

"Thank you for helping me," You said as you looked at him, your eyes searching his as the two of you sat alone in the nurse's office. Standing so close to one another you could smell the aftershave he was wearing, 

"I'll always be here for you," He admits, running his hand over your cheek and smiling weakly, your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him, your pulse quickening the longer you stared at one another, his hand still cupping your face.

"I care...I care about you, more than I could ever say," He finally confessed, 

"I know we've been rivals but...There's always been something between us and I know I'm not the only one that feels this way," He whispers, almost as if he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. There was a high chance you'd tell him to leave but he needed to tell you otherwise he never knew when he'd get you alone again.

"You're not...alone in feeling that way," You whisper as you stared at him, both of you silent for a second before he leaned closer to you. You closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a tender caress. It was a gentle kiss, filled with passion as you carefully wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you.

The years of pent-up attraction for one another unfolding as you made out, your heart racing so hard you could feel the blood pumping in your ears. Jungkook deepens the kiss, his tongue licking everywhere he can reach, your tongue sliding against his. He could kiss you forever and never get tired of it, but he knew you were in a vulnerable place and needed to stop. He bites your bottom lip softly before you pull apart, both of you panting heavily as he looks at you.

"We should go tell Dale, make an official report and get Thompson out of here," 

"That's where your mind went after kissing me? I must be a terrible kisser," You half teased, your heart sinking at the thought of him not enjoying it as much as you had. You turned away from him, wanting to look anywhere but at him but he slowly turned your head toward him,

"If I kept kissing you I'd never leave this room, once the report is done we're going out on a date."

"A date?" You quipped and he nodded at you, kissing your lips again and pulling back. As much as he wanted to stay there with you he couldn't stand the thought of Thompson ever being near you again.

After months of working hard with Jungkook the two of you were neck and neck with your grades but neither of you seemed to care about it anymore. You worked together on projects, and ever since you started dating it had been a whirlwind romance and you became the power couple of the school. Especially after having Thompson removed from the premises.

"Did you see the announcement?" Jungkook asked as he sat beside you in the principal's office. It had been his punishment to work here in his second period but he found himself enjoying the time with you.

"You're number one," He told you with a smirk, your eyes widening as you rushed to your emails trying to find out if it was true or not.

"I beat you?!" You squealed a little too loud, turning back to your boyfriend who couldn't stop his smile.

"If I had to be number two to anyone, I want to be number two to you," He whispered before kissing you softly.

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