#like pls look at my son he is so Talented

[arminsumi]

Breakfast fluff

G. Satoru — さとる

NOTE : pls ignore errors i have neither slept nor proofread this 👍 i'm just craving breakfast so bad rn which is funny considering i hate cooking breakfast lol

SUMMARY — waking up to Gojo making breakfast and fussing over the kids on a typical Sunday

CONTENT — domestic fluff, just a wholesome morning with hubby Gojo

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

It's a very early morning. The sunlight through the sheer curtains is soft. You take your time getting out of bed, soaking up the enjoyable softness of the blankets and pillows. Though you're quick to miss the warmth that you usually wake up to. Blinking awake and going into the bathroom, Satoru hears the soft thumping of your footsteps down the hallway and smiles to himself.

Satoru's not usually an early riser, in fact he usually stays in bed with you and locks an arm around your waist when you try to leave. But it's a Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings were special. Because it became a tradition to go down to the bustling market, clutching the week's savings in his hand, and buy thick bacon and eggs. The freshest kind.

You and Satoru were living in a bare bones apartment with sparse money, as two young "parents" with three tots under your wings. Somehow, you two made it work, even though there were struggles you smiled through them and never strayed from each other's sides. He'd often work the night shift, and come home at ungodly hours so tired that he melted into your body like a sick child, aching for your affectionate touch.

While you lazily carry out your morning routine in the other room, the kids crowd around Satoru as he stands in the kitchen — trying desperately to balance the chaos of entertaining Yuji, Nobara and Megumi while simultaneously cooking up breakfast.

And he cooks breakfast with such meticulousness. He considers it an art form. There's a remarkable swiftness in the way that he wields a kitchen knife to cut the bacon block into strips, and a talent in the way he cracks open eggs with one hand.

" Nobara, Yuji, what are you yelling about ? "

A little voice whined, " Nobara bit me ! "

" Nobara, don't bite Yuji. " Satoru lectured softly, eyes focused on the food cooking in the pan.

" I only did it because he tried to take your sweeties out of the pantry, dad ! " she reasoned.

" Don't eat my sweeties Yuji, you can have some later today — smell this ? Daddy's cooking up yummy breakfast so don't spoil your appetite, okay. You're gonna love it. "

The bacon and eggs crackle and pop in the oiled pan, sometimes so loudly that it makes Megumi jump in fright.

" Gumi, don't stand too close to the skillet. " Satoru warns, placing a hand on his head of messy bed hair and ruffling it, causing it to look even more unruly.

A steamy breakfast aroma wafts down the hallway and satisfyingly fills your lungs. You can hear the four of them chattering and Satoru's interspersed mini-lectures.

You look at them from the doorframe, Yuji and Nobara run out the other way into the interleading sitting room.

" Who's that peering 'round the corner ? " Satoru playfully teases, his voice bringing you warmth.

" Maaa. " Megumi groans and trots over to you, giving you as big of a hug as his little body could manage.

You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing up the mess that Satoru's previous ruffling caused — as usual.

And he flashes a look behind him at you, winking like a cheeky flirt. His smile is so big because of how purely happy the sight of you makes him; especially with that bleary-eyed morning face. You look so cozy, it makes his heart lurch to see you wearing his oversized t-shirt.

" Hey ! You didn't give me a morning hug ! " Satoru pouts and complains to his son.

Megumi groans. With a small encouragement from you, he quickly dives in for a rushed and almost shy hug. His arms wrap around Satoru's legs. And like the menace your husband is, he ruffles Megumi's hair to ruin again — making the boy groan annoyedly and break the hug.

" Ugh, daaad stop. Mom just fixed my hair. " Megumi grimaced, promptly running away when Satoru smiled down at him evilly — because that smile was the one he made before going in for tickles. And tickles from Satoru? They were devastating, truly.

So little footsteps thump out of the kitchen and the two loud voices that have been sounding from the sitting room become three loud voices. You notice how Megumi's accent takes after Satoru's rather than yours, and it warms your heart.

You approach the stressed, apron-clad chef and immediately he turns around to engulf you in an energetic kiss and embrace.

" You're burning the bacon, dad. " you giggle, face squishing into his torso.

" NOOO — shitshitshit. " he mutters under his breath, lips tingling from that tasty kiss he just snatched off your lips.

" Language, 'Toru. " you murmur at him, arms wrapping around his slim waist. You give him butterflies and then he loses all composure, causing a burnt disaster in the pan. The eggs are crusted brown, the bacon is glitterring as it sizzles a deep color.

Automatically, you go around the kitchen collecting and preparing plates and cutlery for the meal. The clang and clash of plastic reminds you that today is a big deal; you and Satoru were going to go out and use the rest of your weekly savings on new kitchenware.

Stopping for a moment to amire the attractive view of your husband's physique from behind, while he rather chaotically shovels the cooked contents of the pan out onto the serving plate that you slide next to him.

" Ah the bacon is saved. . . " he breathes in relief.

The sizzling food finds its home on plates. Satoru steals a quick kiss.

And then another. And another and another until the two of you zone out for a moment and feel like you're just two teenagers again, stealing lovey dovey kisses on your way to morning classes, of course his lips always caused you to be you late to everything back then.

But before you and Satoru can completely intertwine like lovers, there's the common interrruption of Yuji's wailing coming from the sitting room. You and your husband exchange those parental sighs and smiles, before you head into the other room to fix the little commotion. Poor Yuji complains to you through teary eyes that Nobara bit him "for being annoying" and Megumi is just wandering back into the kitchen to help his dad serve up breakfast without him even needing to be asked. He was just a sweet boy like that.

And it's a good meal. One that hits all the spots. You wish you could have more, even though Satoru did put from his plate onto yours throughout the meal. It's a caring habit of his that you never realize until after you've devoured everything. You pay him thanks with a tasty kiss, and he smiles into it like he always does.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (16)

In which the burn bursts into flames

series masterlist

This is the finale! imma keep doing blurbs tho, let me know if u have any requests for one shots :)

ollieupdates

ollieupdates OLLIE BEARMAN MAIDEN WIN, CANADA GRAND PRIX.

liked by aubreyyang, f1updateeess and 92,048 others

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olliebearheart YES YES YES IN AUBREYS HOME COUNTRY TOO

user1 he works so hard GOOD JOB BEARMAN

user2 well deserved, incredible race

aubreyfanpage1 LOOK AT MOM IN THE LIKES WOOOOO

olliebearman posted

olliebearman FIRST WIN LET'S GO!

Huge thank you to the team and the fans who have been along with me for this crazy ride. Getting to race and do something I love everyday is an honour. Here's to many more wins! 🏆🥂

liked by aubreyyang, charles_leclerc and 110,278 others

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aubreyyang so incredibly proud of you! all of your hard work and talent finally paid off, can't wait to see you conquer the f1 world even more in the future ❤️

-- olliebearman ❤️

--user1 IM GASPING FOR AIR RN THIS IS SOFT LAUNCHING EJIREJ

charles_leclerc LETS GO TECHNICALLY STILL A LECLERC WIN LOOK AT MY SON

-- user2 AJREJRG FERRARIS ROYAL FAMILY FR

kimiantonelli well done mate :) party hard

oscarpiastri congrats bro 👊

-- user3 HIM NOT REPLYING TO ANYONE ELSE EXCEPT HIS GIRL BAHAHA

maxverstappen good job, loved sharing a podium with you

f1olliebearman posted

clip one: ollie crosses the line, only seconds before max. The garage is screaming with excitement, and the camera pans to Aubrey and David, the girl clutching the older man's elbow as they are both sobbing with happy tears.

clip two: Ollie, soaked with champagne and sweat runs up to his dad and Aubrey. She lets him hug David first, the older man kissing his face and head, wrapping his arms around his son. Aubrey stands back, still silently crying and laughing. An engineer rubs her back and she laughs. Ollie turns to her, running the small distance and pulling her off her feet into a hug. She's got her arms around his neck, and he's holding her up by her waist. She whispers something in his ear, and he presses his face into her neck. He sets her down, although he keeps her in his embrace. He has to bend a little to keep their position, and she peppers the side of his face with kisses. Someone hands him his water, and she has to push him gently off so he can hydrate. He keeps a finger tucked in the loop of her miniskirt as he thanks the person.

f1olliebearman Aubrey and ollie after the race

liked by user1, loverboysf1 and 22,349 others

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user1 NAHH THEYRE DEF IN LOVE JUST WAITING FOR THE HARD LAUNCH ATP

landogirlyee stop this is the height difference we all deserve

user2 HER LETTING HIM HUG DAVID FIRST??? THE WAY HE LIFTED HER UP?? ‼️

-- loverboysf1 THE WAY HE DIDNT WANT TO LET GO?? BRB GONNA GO KMS ‼️

user3 when is it my turn to be a dainty girl with her large tall bf

-- user4 bro wtf go touch some grass pls 😭

Aubrey shifted, shimmying the bottom of her dress down a little. They were out celebrating his win, and she was taking a breather from all the dancing Alexandra was making her do. Ollie was a little ways off with Lewis and Charles, in a heated discussion about presumably the race. She smiled as she watched him, all pale skin and flushed cheeks. His win, his maiden win, and she was here to witness it. Even if she wasn't in love with him, it was undeniable; Ollie Bearman, the dazzling starlet was the future of the industry.

"Hey, you look lonely." A blonde man joined her where she stood by the bar.

"Oh, I'm okay. Just taking a second." she smiled politely.

"You're an actress, right? I'm Logan. I drive for Williams?" he smiled, and if she wasn't completely taken by Ollie, she would've melted. He looked a bit like her ex, all sandy blonde and muscular and american.

"Yeah. I'm Aubrey." she shook his extended hand, trying to extract it, but he held on.

"I love your work," he grinned, and she weakly backed away.

"Look, you seem really sweet, Logan, but I-"

"Aubrey." A warm, familiar hand landed on her waist, a tether back to reality.

"Hey, winner." she murmured softly at his clenched jaw and dark eyes.

Ollie never got like this, not with her ex, not with the men who catcalled her in the streets. But it was...

Okay, fine, it was kinda hot. Extremely.

Logan's puppy dog eyes widened a fraction with realization.

"Oh. Oh. Oh!" he backed off, patting Ollie's arm, "Sorry, mate."

He departed quickly, and the grimace on Ollie's face stayed.

"Why the long face?" she hummed, stroking his cheek. He held her hand to his face, the moment intimate amidst the bustle of the bar.

"Barely got to see you all night," he drew her closer, "and you look so beautiful."

"That's okay, babe. Enjoy tonight. You have all the time in the world to tell me how pretty I look."

He had an odd look on his face; it was one she wasn't sure how to read.

"Let's go back to hotel." he whispered in her ear.

"What?" she asked, "It's barely midnight!"

"I don't want to be anywhere but with you. And right now, I think we need some privacy."

He led her through the crowd, and smiled politely when people aww'd at the fact he was leaving. Alex kissed her cheek with a knowing look, and Aubrey accepted a quick hug from Charles and Max.

The car ride over in the back of the taxi was silent, tension brewing between them. She was sober enough to stay quiet, but tipsy enough to slide her hand in his larger one.

She felt relieved when his calloused fingers curled around hers.

He led her into the elevator, a heavy, thinking look on his handsome face.

"I wasn't...I didn't want him to flirt with me, y'know." she told him, avoiding eye contact. It was funny, since their hands were still intertwined.

One second she was lifting her head to look at him, the next Ollie had her pinned against the elevator wall.

His nose bumped against hers as he inhaled, and exhaled into her mouth. She didn't know if she was dizzy from the rising height of the elevator or simply him.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise.

His mouth was warm and smooth, his tongue asking for entrance at the seam of her lips.

He licked into her mouth, and she let out a whine, fingers grasping desperately at his arms.

He pulled back, groaning.

"I'm sorry, we should talk. But you just looked..." he trailed off, swollen lips mouthing at the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping and sucking a little track on her skin.

"Oh-" she started, hands dragging to his chest. She knew she sounded desperate.

"I love you." He blurted out, "I had a stupid crush on you when I was like 14, and I met you and you're the most wonderful person I know. You're so kind, and you make me feel like a person, not just a famous driver. I know that you might not feel the same way I do, but I can treat you right. I promise, I will never hurt you, or let anyone."

His eyes, brown and earnest and oh so familiar made her heart ache. How could he think that she didn't love him just as much, or even more?

"One chance, please. I can make you happy, love. Just let me try." he nearly begged, hands winding around her waist.

"I love you." she murmured back, "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. I want to be with you forever, and I know I'm coming off way too strong-"

He cut her off with a watery laugh.

"But you've shown me what love is supposed to be. In its true form, not some half-hearted warped example. And all I can hope is that I can return that love for you. Because I really do. I don't think I've ever loved anyone like you, Ollie. You're it."

He smiled, a real, genuine smile for the first time in the past hour. Seeing him all crinkly-eyed and happy made something burst low and hot in her stomach.

She reached up and dragged him by his collar so she could taste him again, all because now she could.

When she pulled back for air, and he chased her lips. 

She giggled, and he rolled his eyes, nipping at her earlobe.

She pressed herself against him again, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling them together once more. She kissed him, this time slow and soft but both of their smiles were so big that it was more like pressing their teeth together.

"I think we missed our floor."

"That's what you're focused on right now?"

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang my loverboy

liked by celine_diorr, bearyfast_04 and 12 others

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alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY HOLY

leosdad yay my kids are dating

-- bearyfast_04 please dont say it like that

celine_diorr REPLACED BY A WHITE MAN

-- aubberieyaang erm sorry babe YOULL ALWAYS BE MY #1

bearyfast_04 I love you so much

-- aubberieyaang I love you more sweet boy

-- walkdontrun OKAY EWW

-- bearyfast_04 I can get you paddock passes?

-- walkdontrun omg my step dad

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 my pretty girl

liked by kimi_possible, chililos55 and 18 others

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chililos55 congrats to you and ur gf!!

-- leosdad this time its actually real

aubberieyaang WOW YOU ARE SO HANDSOME R U SINGLE

-- bearyfast_04 no actually im taken by the prettiest, most talented, hard working kind and loving woman ever

-- celine_diorr dude she just texted me shes crying

-- aubberieyaang NO IM NOT

kimi_possible we get it ur in love

-- bearyfast_04 ur just jealous

-- kimi_possible I have a gf??

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @ririyulife

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[nonclassyparty]

tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table. 

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

-

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party. 

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!" 

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it. 

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize. 

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk. 

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all. 

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

 Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely. 

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid. 

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you. 

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore. 

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

-

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

 But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic. 

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened. 

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms. 

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

-

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis. 

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears. 

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

[asoiafsworld]

HEADCANON; YOUR LIFE WITH RHAENYRA AND DAEMON AND YOUR CHILDREN

pairings; rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader x daemon targaryen

request; heyy, love your hc about the relationship between reader, rhaenyra and daemon!!! if you can, could you make some for their day-to-day life with all of their children, full of domestic fluff?? maybe important events down the line, such as marriages, birthdays, even grandchildren from jacaerys and baela maybe? ...and things like that? only if you want to tho, you are extremely talented and I'm sure whatever you make will be amazing! hope you have a great day! <3

warnings; mentions of fingering, angst, sadness, self doubts, discrimination against poly couples

author's note; this is such a lovely request, thank you so much for this!! i've gotten many more reqs for this series that i'll get to soon, i love this series so much!! hope you guys enjoy it, pls request if you want me to write something for u <3

first part | second part | third part | fourth part | masterlist

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➼ so a few years pass and your twins and visenya are now three years of age

➼ and they definitely take up all your energy

➼ just running around the palace and everyday it ends with you having to search for them

➼ turns up they decided to join the council meeting with their mother, father and brother and the image of them there is very amusing

➼ a bunch of serious lords talking about important stuff and then there's daemon playing with visenya and rhaenyra braiding alysanne's beautiful white hair

➼ jace pretends to at least pay attention but he also keeps tickling rhaegar who whines and giggles at his brother's doings

➼ you interrupt to collect the children and they all run to you when they see you, eager for their mother's attention

➼ meanwhile your husband, your wife and eldest son look very disappointed in having no excuse to not pay attention to the council which makes you smile

➼ you bring the children back to the nursery where aegon and viserys are playing with their toys and you let the children play together

➼ it was suprisingly peaceful between them, rarely any quarrels about toys and just the kids playing together and it made you happy to watch

➼ baela often times came and sat with you to watch them and you know that she often seeked you out when she had troubles with something

➼ you put her head in your lap and play with her beautiful white hair, softly going through it with your hands

➼ "what's wrong, my little one? tell your mother what's on your mind."

➼ "i'm just a little worried about the wedding..."

➼ yes, baela and jacaerys would marry soon in less than two moons since both were of age now and both of them had come to you with their worries and troubles

➼ "what if he sees me naked and thinks i'm hideous? what if he won't want me?"

➼ you shake your head at her words, not believing that someone as beautiful as her could think of something like this

➼ "every man with eyes can see that he loves your dearly, my little dragon. he always stutters and blushes in your presence and doesn't know what to do with himself! don't you ever worry about these things because you are one of the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms... i am so proud of how you've grown and that you're marrying, it makes my heart weep."

➼ you try to will the tears eye from your eyes but baela sees your emotional state and sits up right away and brushes them away, her eyes full of concern

➼ "mother, what's wrong? please don't cry."

➼ "i'm fine, my little flower, don't worry. it's just my heart aching at the thought of you and jace being all grown up... you will always be my babies, never forget that."

➼ baela chuckles at that and hugs you tightly, telling you not to worry and that they'll always be by your side

➼ later on you lay in bed with daemon and rhaenyra, all three of you ready for sleep but not quite closing your eyes yet

➼ you hear the door creak open and know from the multiple little taps on the floor that it's your youngest three again, always doing everything together, even sneaking into their parents bed

➼ daemon helps the children get up into bed and grabs his little alysanne to cuddle for himself

➼ rhaegar goes into rhaenyra's awaiting arms and visenya cuddles up close to you

➼ "could the little dragons not find sleep, hm? aren't you too old to be sleeping with us?"

➼ "no. baby dragons can't sleep without their mothers and father!"

➼ your heart clenches at visenya's words who only cuddles up closer and burries her face into your neck

➼ by the time you wake up in the morning, the kids are already gone, as they are almost always to see their hatchlings

➼ that leaves you some time with daemon and rhaenyra that you so rarely seem to have these days, both of them occupied with their council

➼ both of them are still asleep so you snuggle closer to daemon who had his arms wrapped around you from behind you

➼ rhaenyra was facing you and you take your time to study her peacful face as she sleeps, gently using your fingers to go over her defining features

➼ she often has a worried look on her face and it makes her brows crease in that certain way but with her face relaxed like this, she looked like she had no worry in the world

➼ she was like an angel to you with her white, beautiful hair cascading around her... she truly is your angel, having brought you out of your misery of a life and made you so endlessly happy by bringing you into her marriage and letting you be a mother to her children

➼ "she looks pretty like that when she's all asleep, doesn't she? our beautiful darling."

➼ daemon's voice was raspy in your ear and he presses a soft kiss on your cheek after he spoke

➼ "she does... my savior. she never stopped believing in her love for me, always waited for me... and now i have both of you... i don't know how i could be so lucky."

➼ you know that daemon smiles at those words and softly kisses the side of your head

➼ and then he fingers you as you both watch and talk about rhaenyra being your pretty wife because he can and he's an insatiable husband

➼ anyways your mornings together are so cozy and sweet

➼ like the first thing rhaenyra does when she's awake is cuddle you close to her and kiss your forehead and tell you that she loves you and you are used to it by now but it still makes you blush like crazy

➼ she loves you for how sweet and kind you are, has always loved you for those reasons and she will never, ever let go of you

➼ after your first round of cuddling with rhaenyra, she gets up and starts to get ready for the day but you and daemon stay in bed just a little bit longer and cuddle each other too

➼ daemon is often initiating sex with you but he also loves to just hold you and tell you why you're perfect and why he's the luckiest man in the world

➼ he always, always makes you blush because he can be so poetic with compliments

➼ "when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. that's when i'll stop loving you and not before."

➼ also gives you the most expensive gifts ever

➼ but rhaenyra is at fault for that too, she spoils you with a new necklace every week

➼ she always tells you that it's a way to make up for the years that she wasn't there, to give you gifts and love for the time you weren't with her

➼ you know that it still weighs heavily on her, especially because the years you spent away from her, away from court were difficult for you since your family and parents were so hard on you

➼ you try to make her understand that you'll always love her and that the children and marriage you have now make up for the few years you had lost

➼ she always hugs you tightly when you say these things and is so grateful to have you in her life

➼ anyways occasionally there are days where neither of them have something important going on and when your elder children are looking after their younger siblings so you three can enjoy some time for yourselves

➼ on those days, you like to just lay about in the mornings and read with them, the book in your hands and yours and rhaenyra's heads in daemon's lap, rhaenyra's arms around your waist

➼ they love to listen to your voice and how softly and gently you read to them

➼ they often have these moments that you don't see where they look at you and at each other and know you're the greatest thing that ever happened to them

➼ no one in this world is more whipped than daemyra are for you

➼ eventually it's time for jace and baela's wedding

➼ the wedding is held in king's landing since it's a very important event and you don't realize up until the point that you're back in the capital that it will be the first time for people to see you with daemon and rhaenyra

➼ you're very sheltered at dragonstone and no one who is uninvited ever stays there so you didn't really have to worry about others judging you but now back in king's landing there are so many people...

➼ it fills you with dread because you also realize that you will see some of your family

➼ your family house was never invited, your husband and wife took care of that

➼ but two of your sisters had married into other houses that had to be invited, where they couldn't come up with an excuse as to why they shouldn't come

➼ you feel anxious about it and daemon and rhaenyra sense it but don't say anything at first, suspecting your worries and fears

➼ eventually they want to talk about it with you but you brush it off and shake your head, feeling uneasy the whole time

➼ the other side of the royal family already gives you funny looks, alicent and aemond in particular don't like you but you don't care about them since they're the least of your worries

➼ a lot of people look at you and whisper behind their backs about you, about you being a whore and bringing bastard children into the world

➼ it hurts you a lot and you start to avoid and ignore daemon and rhaenyra because they are very insistent on talking about it

➼ you put on a happy face for jacaerys and baela because hello your kids are getting married! time to be happy for them!

➼ you distract yourself from your own worries by being a emotional support pillar for them

➼ you also had to leave the three babies at dragonstone so you miss them a lot but aegon and viserys came with you so when you're not listening to jace and baela's worries, you're in their chambers with them and really just sit there and contemplate your life choices as you pretend to pay attention to the sword game your sons are playing since you're the princess they need to free

➼ it gets to a point where you only really see daemon and rhaenyra at the feasts that take place in the week of the wedding

➼ you always stay at the feasts after them and to avoid seeing them in your chambers when they're still awake, you escape to the dragon pit and spend time with caraxes and syrax

➼ you think it's ironic that you would rather spend time with the dragons than their riders but mostly appreciate that they don't talk and let you pet them

➼ the feasts go on for a few days and the day before the wedding, your sisters arrive with their husbands and you feel awful when you see them

➼ every family from their respective house has to come forward and congratulate the princess and prince who look happy with each other

➼ in your panic, you leave the table as soon as they approach it and somewhat hide in the back of the room drinking one cup of wine after the other

➼ most people are still whispering and looking at you disgustingly so you don't bother to stand with anyone

➼ you drink way too much wine in the next hour and since daemon is watching you the entire time, he at some point decides that it's enough

➼ no one speaks as the three of you enter your chambers and you hate how difficult it seems for you to simply talk to them

➼ you don't even bother taking your dress off, you just lay down in the middle of the bed and hope you fall asleep fast

➼ you act as if you're sleeping when they strip you of your awfully constricting dress, their hands still so gentle with you and you feel the way they caress your skin when they undress you

➼ they leave you in your undergarments as always and lay on either side of you

➼ neither of them is sleeping and you're sure that they know that you aren't either

➼ you're drunk and sad and feel awful about how you've treated both of them and you feel like you're on the verge of crying because when you close your eyes to try to sleep, you only see people whispering about what a whore you are

➼ "did they ask? about me?"

➼ they know that you mean your sisters

➼ it's the first time you've spoken to them in so long and rhaenyra looks at you, her gaze is soft but... sympathetic

➼ "no, they didn't."

➼ you appreciate her honesty but realize that nothing makes a difference, wether your siblings care about you or not

➼ you're laying on your side facing rhaenyra and feel daemon closely behind you but neither of them touch you, respecting your feelings since you haven't been near them lately except for when all of you are sleeping

➼ you feel so overwhelmed with everything and don't know what to do so you simply bury your face in your pillow so that no one can see your tears and mumble that you're sorry repeatedly

➼ your sobs wreck through your body and you instantly feel hands on your arm and on your head, softly holding you and caressing you

➼ rhaenyra tells you that it's okay to cry and that you're brave and strong for them and you feel anything but

➼ daemon is pressed closely to your back now and has his nose burried in your neck

➼ after a few minutes you stop crying and feel coherent enough to talk to them and tell them everything about how you feel, about the way people talk about you and that you have been avoiding them because you don't want to feed more into their gossip and that seeing your sisters made it worse

➼ they hold you close to them and reassure you as much as you can and tell you that you belong with them and that no one else has a reason to judge your relationship

➼ you say something else that has been lingering on your mind for a whie

➼ "would it not be better if you had stayed together without me? i only ruined everything..."

➼ oh. maybe you should not have said that bc all hell broke loose

➼ rhaenyra tries her best to not be almost angry with you because how could you question being with them? did you not love them anymore?

➼ daemon's grip on you gets tighter and he's restraining himself from showing you how much you belong to him

➼ they both tell you that you have made both of their lives so much better and happier and that they are so happy to have you and that they couldn't imagine their lives without you or alysanne and rhaegar

➼ the whole night is spent of your husband and wife cuddling you and kissing you and telling you how much they love you and that you are perfect for them

➼ you feel much better after talking to them and apologize for having avoided them and the three of you finally fall asleep, holding each other close

➼ your mood is much better for when the wedding takes place the next day and you smile and cry during the wedding

➼ you don't spend much time thinking about the judging stares of others and dance with daemon and rhaenyra and show everyone that you belong to them

➼ you're happy to go back to dragonstone soon after with your family and don't leave the nursery at all on the day you come back, having missed your three little dragons so much

➼ after that, everything is just like before and soon enough, baela is pregnant

➼ you're so happy for her and you and rhaenyra spend much time with her and tell her how wonderful of a mother she will be

➼ daemon spends time with jace to prepare him to be a father and jace also comes to you for advice and you never turn him away, always there for your eldest son

➼ your joy and happiness is indescribable when you hold your grandson in your arms and you help put both of your children at ease, telling them that you'll take care of him just like you do with the other three babies

➼ your evergrowing family is just very cute and adorable so many babies so much love shared between all of you. very cute and adorable

[bianca-d1-angelo]

✧˚ · ˚ + ˚ · . ➳➳ INTRO ➳➳. · ˚ + ˚ · ˚✧

Hello! I am Bianca Di Angelo! I am the daughter of Maria Di Angelo and the Greek deity Hades. I am also known as the deceased sister of the Ghost King, @i-wish-i-was-sleeping-rn I am currently 12 years old and will forever remain 12 as I am dead. I was a Hunter of Artemis before I died, and would have been a current resident of Cabin 13 at Camp Half Blood. The Fates did not consider social media when writing the rules centuries ago, so this is a technical loophole I have decided to exploit since Elysium is a bit boring. OOC: Please send asks or tag me!! OC's are always allowed to interact <33

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@i-wish-i-was-sleeping-rn - my younger brother! he's honestly just a sweet little kid. If I find anyone being mean or even remotely rude to him, I can easily show you the horrors the Underworld will have have in store for you :)) @hazel-the-jewel - my sister! she's so sweet and responsible and talented. im so proud of her! she's the praetor of New Rome and everything! Once again, if I hear a single comment about her, I will find you and make you wish you never opened your mouth :))

@chb-top-medic - Nico's boyfriend! Very nice kid and a gentleman. Nico really cares about him so I fully support him! He's also a healer and can glow! if you dare break his heart, I know where you live :) @frank-zhang-praetor Hazel's boyfriend! Very responsible and extremely kind. Hazel loves him a lot <3 But once again, if you dare break her heart, I know where you live :)

@jas0n--grace - he's my brother's best friend! he's a good person and really friendly. Honestly reminds me of a golden retriever @percyjackson-son-of-poseidon - Son of Poseidon and a greek hero. He's really nice and extremely loyal. 10/10 quest mate!

@grover-the-can-eater - Satyr and Lord of the Wild! Apparently he's a protector so he might follow you and your brother around for a while in a totally not creepy or terrifying way.

@pinecone-face-thalia - Daughter of Zeus and Lieutenant of the Hunters of Artemis! Very cool and a bit intimidating. Nice to talk to though!

@annabeth-w1se-g1rl - Daughter of Athena! Dating Percy and friends with my sister! She's very cool and I admire her leadership.

@p1per-mclean - Daughter of Aphrodite! Hazel's friend and Nico's friend. She's really nice though she seems like a troublemaker.

@piperss-gf - Mortal! She's Piper's girlfriend. She's really sweet and easy to talk to.

@repairboyy - Son of Hephaestus! Nico warned me not to trust him. He does look like he gets into a lot of trouble.

@bestdaughterofbellona - my honorary sister! She's one of Nico's closest friends and joined the hunt! She has an aura that demands respect and is a very sophisticated and cool person

@rachel-your-oracle - Also a Mortal! She is also the Oracle! (I'm so sorry Rachel for that repeating prophecy my dad sent, I told him twice would be enough)

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OOC: (Kinda Important So Please Read! )

Hi!!! Before I begin, this is a Percy Jackson RP account for my Bianca cuz Hera knows shes too underrated!

pictures from banner are not mine! (i did make it tho) pfp isn't mine either!

I MISS TONS OF SOCIAL CUESS!!! I'm trying to work on it but if i ever overstep my boundaries or make you uncomfy, pleasee let me know <33 im just a bit oblivious sometimes

IM SEX REPULSED! totally cool, do your thing but please DNI if you're an NSFW blog!!

I am a minor! pls keep that in mind!

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[f1amboyant]

I can't get the idea of Engineer Carlos AU out of my head. Can you tell me more about how hot and popular Carlos is? I imagine something like

there are actually many fan accounts created only for him lol there are those hit tiktok vids of him (like the one with 'hey my sexy lady Ferrari mechanic')

cameraman knows what he is doing and always delivers. Like during the race or red flag, cameraman likes to show Carlos

Carlos is effortlessly hot and he doesn't know how popular he is. He just smiles shyly when fans ask for a photo with him when he walks with Charles in the paddock. Charles is a bit possessive and silently glares at that poor fans lol i love jealous Charled

Also Carlos is gonna be the best strategist. Pls write some races that shows how genius Carlos is

And the angst like there is rumour about Red Bull offering Carlos doubled his current salary and Charles is afraid to ask Carlos about it

Yeah. Pls write something about this AU. I will take any crumbs. Hot engineer Carlos🔥

Hi there anon!

Thank you so much for asking about this AU (from this post). Engineer Carlos is so so dear to me. And we’ve been getting soooo muuuuuch content lately (the pics of him in the pit wall with headphones on just make me go feral 🔥).

You pretty much nailed it with all your ideas, that’s basically what I have in mind for this AU! But here are some of the ideas I have:

So, Carlos becomes Charles’ race engineer in 2021. The public doesn’t know about him, maybe some Spanish media talk about the son of Carlos Sainz Sr getting a more important role in the team, but in general Charles is the talk of the show (of course he is, he is the predestined.) So it’s almost a random thing when fans get the first pictures and videos of Carlos on the paddock with Charles and on the pit wall.

Fans start to notice. “Who is this hot man with Charles? New race engineer? Who is he? We need to know??”

It’s just really small glimpses at first but the fans get more and more curious each time.

Halfway through the season, there are multiple accounts dedicated to Carlos, scrounging the internet to know who he is and find as many pictures of him as possible. They compile every glimpses they get from the media on race weekend. They ask Ferrari admin to show more of the hot engineer “we love Charles but please we need to see more of this hot piece of cake, can we know who he is?”

The cameramen on the paddock slowly start to get the idea and we get more and more of Carlos. Plus, we hear their exchanges on the radio and omg are they… are they flirting on live television??? They work well together but is this banter?? Is this flirting?? Omg?? So yeah, fans go crazy for Carlos. Ferrari even capitalizes on it, using Carlos in the team challenges (there were several challenges in past years where the drivers paired with some guys from the team, so imagine the chaos it would be Charles and Carlos pairing against the other pair of driver and engineer). Fans go absolutely crazy for it. The fan accounts for Carlos are going insane.

Carlos is absolutely oblivious to all of this. Charles on the other hand sees all the fans thirsting over his race engineer and gets so so soooo jealous. Joris has to take away his phone so he can focus on the race weekend and so that Charles doesn’t comment on every picture of Carlos with something like ‘he’s my race engineer, back off!’ He gets more and more touchy with Carlos, always having an arm around his shoulders, clasping his hand and holding it far far longer than is necessary.

Carlos is oblivious to his own fame, but he’s still online. He has a secret account (shoutout to @tiramisufrappe for this particular idea) where he posts cute pictures of Charles, commenting on how cute and adorable he is, and just look at him he is the prettiest can you believe it. So yeah, Carlos is Charles' number one fangirl.

Of course, Carlos is also so so talented, especially with the race strategy. He goes against the team orders on multiple occasions, giving Charles a better strategy until at some point, they just let him do what he wants. I can imagine something like that:

“The team wants you to pit. Thoughts? Question?” “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I can’t pass these guys and we’re going to lose and…” Charles is starting to raise his voice and get frustrated. “Charles,” Carlos remains calm and so so composed and his voice is sooooo soothing. “Tell me how you feel in the car. Do you have the pace?” “Yes.” “Can you maintain this pace?” “Yes.” “Okay then. The team wants you to box, I say you stay out. What do you want?” “I don’t know. I trust you, Carlos.” “Then stay out, stay out.” panning to Carlos’ face on live television and the rest of the pit wall looking baffled and repressing their anger (they cannot show it now but you can feel that it’s not going to be good for Carlos when this is over). They win the race.

And oh my god, the Red Bull offer is such a good idea!! The added drama. The thing is, no matter the salary, Carlos would never leave Charles. It’s his driver, if he’s going, Charles has to go with him. So he’s not even considering it. But Charles doesn’t know that and he gets all scared and angry and finally he kisses Carlos. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” And that’s how they finally end up together!

Thank you so much for your question anon and I hope long answer is not too much 🫣 I have a lot of other WIPs to focus on first but I hope I can write engineer Carlos at some point because I love him so so much.

The question now: if Carlos is not a driver, then who is Charles’ teammate at Ferrari in 2021 and afterward?

Feel free to ask me more about this AU or other ideas. My ask box is open!

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

So, I was explaining the plot of Obey me! shall we date to @loekas​ 

And here it is:

FYI: Everyone in Obey me! is emotionally constipated as F U C K

I just know that the Obey me lovers are about to come for my soul

Lucifer- pride

Basically a total asshole and prick. He constantly overworks himself. He has threatened to kill the MC many many times. He punishes his brothers in cruel ways. ( A sadist ) To make things better though, he is hot, i’ll give him that.

Mammon- Greed

A thief, will fucking steal from you. He is the MC's best friend and fandom's favorite although he acts greedy like my little brother during Christmas so I fail to see the appeal and cry blood whenever I see smut on him bcz he acts like a spoiled 5 yr old brat who loves his mom but will never admit it. You could hold a gun to his head and force him to say it but he will not

Leviathan- Envy

What a loser, honestly. All my man does is play video games and simp over underage waifu's. ( YOU CANT TELL ME RURI HANNA IS NOT LIKE 8 ) He 10/10 has a body pillow. Also attempted to kill the MC, even though MC is his only friend ( thats sad ). A hardcore gen z and hated by a lot of the fandom. Shut in Otaku and a creepy discord mod.

Satan- Wrath

Daddy issues who?? Lucifer is his dad and he HATES when he is compared to Lucifer because spoiled brat doesn't want to be like that "ugly old man". He was created out of Lucifer's wrath when their sister died and since then everyone sees him as a replacement for their dead sister he hates it. The kind of guy who would smash random objects when angry bcz of temper tantrums. I don’t feel bad for him because??? Daddy issues??? Suck it up, Lucifer isn’t even that bad your just salty he’s hotter. Also purge that outfit rn, that's a crime to fashion.

Asmodeus- Lust

A boy but so girlypop??( No hate I love girlypop boys ) Probs fucked every human, demon and angel in existence. Gossip queen and mean girl. Never trust him with secrets, he would tell the entire school. Horny 24/7, honestly a big cheater and fuckboy. Regina George 2.0, will make fun of your outfit because he wants to look better. That pretty girl that you go to talk to but turns out she has a nasty attitude and talks shit about everyone?? Thats him. Then he gets mad when people call him ugly??? Also compliment fishing on Insta all the time.

Beel - Gluttony ( older twin )

Genuinely sweet. Himbo, super muscular?? He plays sports, that one high school jock that EVERY girl has a crush on. Crying and temper tantrums when he is hungry and not given food. Tried to eat MC when he got hungry- but he apologized to MC and now they are cool. Man child tbh

Belphegor - Sloth ( younger twin )

I bet y’all were WAITING for my opinion on this one

I hate you. Murderer, literally everyone hates him. Nobody in the fandom likes him because he actually succeeded in killing the MC but they were brought back to life by the demon king and his butler. Dangerous mf, MC forgives him though?? Once you get to know him he is just a sleepy baby that wakes up with murder on his mind lol. But then again EVERYONE tried to kill MC, he was the only one that succeeded. Ngl he is pretty bad at pretending to be a defenseless human, I didn’t fall for it but the game made me go in there anyway.

Simeon- angel

My man could rail me but he would hate me irl. Holy man, jesus is good you all are unholy. Sweet? Kind? Talented writer? Grandpa that can't learn to use devices no matter what?? Everything I need in a man. Wears a slutty outfit but acts like he is all angelic and kind. Like- ✨sinful shoulders✨

Solomon- Sorcerer

Grandpa Sol. Can’t cook to save his like, Yor Forger level but even worse. Never eat his cooking, even Beel refuses to eat that monstrosity. Makes the most annoying dad jokes ever like stfu. Sussy Baka fr fr

Luke- cute baby angel

Simeon's adopted son, MC is his role model ( much to Simeon's dismay ) bcz my MC be unholy asf. Loves baking MC sweet things ( Luke pls can I marry your dad-? ) but hates when MC flirts with his father figure ( Isn't stopping me ) He is a chiwawa as per EVERYONE. Woof woof

Barbatos - Hot butler

The demon prince's hot servant, I like the butler kind. Would probably smile while insulting the shit out of you. WIll make you regret all your life decisions. Also has time manipulation where he can look into the future and stop it from happening by turning back time. The demon prince's father figure.

Could you please take me back to when I failed my math test and help me fix it-?

Lord Diavolo- Demon Prince

Demon prince, spoiled child, himbo, MC's source of secret income. When Lucifer doesn't let the MC or brothers do something they talk Lord Diavolo into changing Lucifer's mind. Biggest sweet tooth ever. Daddy Issues 2.0. Sugar daddy material, probably has a secret relationship with Lucifer.

Mc- Human

The most insane human being to ever exist.

[sweetlywistful]

be still my beating heart (gen fic)

I wound up getting blindsided by how much I loved this game, so here, have a 9.7k word condensed re-telling of the game. it's basically all the stuff I imagined going through P's head while I was playing on the true ending/max humanity path. also pls note that P and Carlo share a single identity here instead of them being two separate people!

Summary:

As Sophia placed her hand on his chest, he thought, Can you feel it? I have a heart that’s beating right now. It feels and pulses and hurts just like yours. I have a heart. I’m almost as human as you are. -OR- As a boy-puppet learns to live and breathe, this is what he will come to discover: humanity is what we make of it. The world begins and ends by what we grasp, even if it’s by the skin of our teeth.

Read on ao3

I

Waking up for the first time was something he had no name for. There was a flutter, sensation stretching across his limbs, and the voice that came like a beacon in the night.

It gave him a direction, and so he went. He walked. Attacked what attacked him, ‘reset’ at the nearest stargazer whenever he fell to a blow, then repeated the cycle until he stood before double doors and the voice was telling him to lie.

Lying was simple. The word “human” spilled easily out of his mouth. What was not so simple was the strange stir that skittered across his springs. Occasionally, his arm or an internal mechanism would twitch, but it was nothing so subtle, or fluttery. This sensation was different.

It felt, vaguely, like waking up.

II

There was blood on his hand. Blood, not oil. Blood. It was transfixing, the way it clung to his glove and glistened under the light of the streetlamp. It had gushed out of the man so easily, skin and bone so much softer than cold steel.

He thought there might have been a dull roar in his ears. He thought he might have heard the word son.

He looked up and met eyes with the man who would call him exactly that. There was a fondness when Geppetto addressed him that he couldn’t even hope to reciprocate. He was a puppet, after all. How could a puppet express such emotion?

The exchange—or lack thereof—gave him another strange feeling. This one reminded him of trying and failing to open a gate that only opened on the other side. It…wasn’t pleasant.

It clung to him like ichor, which was why it seemed so wrong to tell the woman that her baby was a puppet. He complimented it instead, another easy lie that somehow quivered his springs. She gave him a record for his effort. When he listened to it later, he felt it in his springs again. He decided the sensation couldn’t be a bad thing.

After all, it came about after helping that woman, who would now get to spend her last days clinging to what she wanted most. She wouldn’t die wishing for everything she couldn’t have. She wouldn’t lay broken and bloody on a cobblestone street under the canopy of a bleak, uncaring night sky.

That was good, he decided.

III & IV

Venigni was…interesting. His ‘r’s rolled like the put-put of a motor, only more quickly, and the way he described his own intellect was confident and proud. Venigni had thrown himself into the thick of danger to help everyone by shutting down the factory. He was worried for someone—the puppet, Pulcinella—and wouldn’t leave until they were reunited.

Venigni cared. Venigni was kind. He supposed that was what was missing when the same pride was reflected in Alidoro, the Hound. Alidoro called himself a noble savior, but somehow, it didn’t feel like there was any substance behind the claim. Alidoro wasn’t using his talents to help anyone, like Eugénie and her tinkering with his weapons to make them stronger, or Antonia’s hospitality. The man wasn’t risking himself for others like Venigni in the factory. Alidoro the savior was hiding on the roof while Giangio and Sister Cecile were in the cathedral, terrified and alone.

So, when Alidoro asked him if he knew of anywhere safe to go, he didn’t direct him to the hotel. The lie felt deeper, somehow, down to the very Ergo that powered his joints. Even when he went to check on Alidoro later at Venigni’s workshop, upon giving the man another lie, his Ergo still stirred, like a whisper against an ear.

Sophia told him that lying would make him more human. That felt right. More than right, actually. Like it was already true. Something in him was already human, and the rest of him was merely catching up.

He didn’t know why he felt that way though. Maybe with more lying, he would find out.

V

He took the Red Fox and the Black Cat’s offer. Given the reception he got when he first made it to the Malum District, he figured a clash between himself and the Black Rabbit Brotherhood was inevitable. It made no difference to him whether he trekked through the district alone or accompanied by the pair. He caught their whispers about him, though: snickers and the suggestion that he was easy to take advantage of. It therefore came to him as no surprise when they bailed, even though Gemini was particularly incensed.

Perhaps it was strange, but he liked that their attempts at deception were so obvious. It made it easier to maneuver his interactions with them. And, he thought, if things had been different somehow, he might have enjoyed teasing the Cat over his supposed aches as well.

But as it stood, he was still a puppet with no frame of reference for what teasing was even supposed to look like. Maybe the thought had come from the same place that stirred when he lied.

The same place that quaked when he found himself before a painting that looked exactly like himself. Portrait of a Boy, it was called, and there seemed to be a deep revelation behind it, tied to the clothes Antonia had gifted him, tied to the way Geppetto’s tone caressed the word son. If his hands had been flesh and blood, they might have trembled when he took the portrait down.

Trembled the way Geppetto trembled, when he brought the portrait to his father, and the man laid eyes on it. With something like reverence, Geppetto hung it in the back wall of the office, in direct view from where the man typically sat at his desk.

Looking into the portrait, especially from its perch in the office, felt so…odd. Disconcerting, even. Like he was somehow staring into a mirror of his own soul. After it was hung, he retreated downstairs to the gramophone. He chose the latest record he had procured and played it.

Somehow, it made him feel warm. He hadn’t known he was cold, before.

VI

Something was different about the King of Puppets. Attack whatever attacked him; that had been his unwritten rule, so when the giant robot had tried to touch him, he swatted the hand away immediately. It then reared its head back and changed its face to an angry one, like he had offended it.

To project such a reaction was only further confirmation that it had an ego. While that wasn’t surprising, he had expected more hate. More…vitriol. Something that would have seemed capable of orchestrating the Frenzy, like the White Lady that hated puppets, but in reverse.

Adding to that the “play” it had almost certainly orchestrated, with the puppets that looked so much like himself and his father…it was painting a strange picture. Venigni had said that the King of Puppets communicated through Ergo, and in that space between blows, where he could momentarily rest or use a pulse cell, he could almost feel it in the air, softly buzzing like a record that was actually a recording of other recordings. Words put through a staticky filter a dozen times over.

In the end, it…almost sounded grateful…

When he took down the puppet that was inside the giant puppet’s shell, he didn’t feel like he’d won a battle. Instead, he felt perturbed. He didn’t think he could trade the puppet’s crystallized Ergo, like he had with the other Ergo crystals he had gotten. Not until he understood more. He placed it in his pack with the object that the King of Puppets had dropped. It had been near the puppet’s face, tucked close to its half-charred visage. Something about the item pulled him, almost like the portrait had, though he didn’t know why.

It was actually a relief to find Geppetto outside the opera house. Seeing his father’s face and experiencing the man’s concern felt grounding, after all the strangeness that had just taken place. It helped to refocus him as he made his way to the Lorenzini Arcade’s stargazer.

That relief evaporated when he transported himself back to the hotel. It was just supposed to be another part of the routine he shared with Sophia, where she strengthened him once he had accumulated enough Ergo from killing puppets and monsters. But then she mentioned the object the King had dropped—the necklace, the Monad Charity House.

To Romeo, your friend C, carefully engraved on the back of the necklace.

Romeo. The charity house. C. He knew those names. He knew those names, and something in him was breaking, bursting with a great and terrible clarity, taking shape right in the center of his chest, impossible and new.

Carlo, he heard, and the world shifted.

VII.I

He didn’t know what to make of himself. His hair was longer, and his body felt different. More human, like Sophia had said. But it couldn’t be possible. He was a puppet with creaking springs and metal bones. He couldn’t be human like Carlo, the boy in the portrait, the boy that Antonia remembered so fondly.

And yet the name Carlo had reverberated down to his heart of hearts—he had a heart now—and slotted into place like a puzzle piece he hadn’t known he was missing. Carlo, the boy that he looked like. Carlo, the one who wore Antonia’s clothes. Carlo, Romeo’s friend.

Carlo, the human turned puppet—

It was too much. He almost wished he could forget that the name Carlo existed. He went upstairs to see Geppetto like Sophia had suggested, looking for what, he didn’t know. Reassurance? An explanation?

Instead, his father was less than pleased. The man knew as much about what was going on as he did, which was close to nothing. To make matters worse, Geppetto had already been bothered, too, by what was happening with the portrait on the wall. When he caught a glance of it before leaving the office, he could see why.

D. Gray must have had a sense of humor. The portrait had grown a long, wooden nose.

For some reason, it reminded him of the novel of the wooden puppet that Gemini had told him about in the library downstairs. The puppet’s nose had grown longer with every lie it told. He didn’t know why he knew that, though; Gemini had never told him such details. Staring at the portrait a little longer, as if doing so would give him answers, yielded no results, so he left the office.

Just as he was out of the door, he overheard Geppetto muttering about how to proceed with these changes that had come unforeseen. Though he had been wondering the same thing, the way that his father had done so felt different. Almost clinical.

Unexpectedly, he found himself accosted by a foreign bitterness, like he was a wounded child that had reached for their parent’s comfort and had gotten rebuffed instead, for what felt like the thousandth time. The feeling was awful, making him want to go back into the office and do…something. He didn’t know. It wasn’t like his father could simply stop him from feeling things. All he could do, he supposed, was to force himself not to dwell on it.

Finding Polendina in the courtyard was a distraction he welcomed wholeheartedly.

VII.II

Sophia was somehow waiting for him at the Saintess Statue after he encountered Simon Manus. She told him the truth about Ergo, that it contained the lifespan and memories of people who died to the Petrification Disease. Ergo was once human, and she could Listen to it—Listen to him.

He…was once human…

The truth settled in him like a sigh.

He was the wooden puppet in the story from the library. He was Carlo, the dead son that made his father tremble. His Ergo had been trying to tell him all along, and the rest of him was finally starting to catch up.

After depositing a Gold Coin Fruit at the Saintess Statue, he went back to Sophia so that she could help him rearrange the strength that came from his Ergo. As Sophia placed her hand on his chest, he thought, Can you feel it? I have a heart that’s beating right now. It feels and pulses and hurts just like yours. I have a heart.

I’m almost as human as you are.

VIII

He still wasn’t sure whether or not he should call himself Carlo. He didn’t have all of Carlo’s memories (yet, a small part of him whispered). He was still part-puppet, with internal mechanisms that twitched, so it felt strange to own the identity of a full human. It was all too complicated to deal with now, with Krat still in need of saving, so he simply continued moving forward.

Venigni told him they needed Golden Ergo to reach the Isle of the Alchemists and directed him to the Barren Swamp to find it. Before he took off, though, he took care of some things in the hotel. He took a cure from Giangio for Antonia’s Petrification Disease at Polendina’s behest, and he convinced the puppet to give it to her, even though she could end up dying more quickly because of it.

He hated to admit it, but she was dying anyways. Just like with Adelina the singer, just like with the blind woman and her puppet baby, he found alleviating her suffering in the time she had left to be the best choice. And who knew—maybe the concoction would cure her completely, and he would get to enjoy her company a little longer.

He also stopped by Eugénie, and she handed him a gift to give to Alidoro on her behalf. She had been so earnest about it that he knew, if the gift had been meant for him, he would have been rather endeared by the gesture. Despite his initial reservations about Alidoro, he agreed to present it to him, and then he set off for the Barren Swamp.

On the way, he encountered the Red Fox and the Black Cat again. Once again, it didn’t matter to him whether or not they were trying to deceive him. He had plenty of Gold Coin Fruits in reserve, since he made sure never to trade them all at once with Giangio, and he checked the tree for its supply almost religiously. Parting with a single fruit wasn’t even close to a significant loss. He was pleasantly surprised by the sincere thanks he got in return, however, as well as the record that the Fox gave him.

The Cat surmised that the two of them could possibly become good friends, and he found himself silently agreeing.

His encounter with Alidoro, on the other hand, went in almost the complete opposite direction. Something in him flared indignantly on Eugénie’s behalf when the man treated her gift like it was worthless. He knew, already, he was going to have to lie to her later about Alidoro’s reaction to protect her feelings, and the thought made him feel sour.

Meeting Hugo later, after experiencing the earthquake that rattled even his metal bones, only put Alidoro’s inconsistencies in sharp relief. Eugénie had mentioned that Alidoro had lost a finger; pairing that knowledge with Hugo’s observations had him starting to suspect that the Alidoro he knew and the one they knew were entirely different people.

Worser still was the frustrating way Alidoro spoke to him after he took down the giant monster in the swamp. The man kept calling him the perfect bait.

He was not bait.

Out of consideration for Eugénie, he didn’t do anything, but that was the first time he felt like giving someone who hadn’t directly attacked him a good punch. He felt the need to cool off before checking out what happened in the Krat Central Station, so he went back to the hotel. After checking in with Sophia as usual, he then sought out Antonia, and her joy was such a sight for sore eyes.

She thanked him so profusely, even though all he did was get the cure from Giangio. At that moment, he found out what it meant to be bashful. Her adulation made him want to squirm.

Instead, he went to the piano. He wasn’t sure why he did. The last time he was in front of it, all he could do was pluck a few notes. But he supposed, with his increasing humanity came increasing muscle memory, and to both his and Antonia’s delight, he was able to play her a song.

What a sweet experience. He wanted to coat the memory of it in gold and preserve it forever.

IX

The devastation in Krat had become even more horrifying, somehow. He had gone from stepping around pools of blood and ravaged streets to wading through acidic decay, invasive corrosion that somehow birthed monsters, and collapsed streets that had literally split wide open.

The King of Puppets had been holding back the Alchemists, and apparently, this was what happened when the Alchemists were allowed to run rampant. Even though he knew taking down the king had been logical to everyone at the time, he couldn’t help the thoughts that played in his head over and over as he made his way through a ruined Central Krat: This is my fault. I killed the King of Puppets. This is my fault…

He could only hope that somewhere, buried underneath the devastation, he would be able to discover something that would give him an edge over the Alchemists.

However, what he found instead was a horde of enemies and one of the most formidable creatures he had faced yet: a relentless monster that had somehow figured out how to use Ergo to duplicate itself. That, combined with the relatively confined space they were in, made for such a challenging fight that he had ‘reset’ well over a dozen times. When it was over, he felt he could collapse from relief alone.

He got into the nearby elevator, already making a mental checklist for what he would need to resupply and modify at the hotel, but then suddenly, halfway through the elevator’s descent, there was a crash. Wires snapped overhead, and the elevator fell rapidly, smashing into the floor so quickly that he stumbled and nearly face-planted into the wall.

And then came the heart-stopping message from Sophia.

The hotel was under attack.

From then, it was a desperate mad dash to the nearest stargazer. Simon Manus’ message along the way made him grit his teeth. What was the point of a “world of truth” if it caused this much death and destruction—if it meant losing everyone he ever cared about?

He got to the stargazer. It didn’t work. He would have cursed, if he had remembered any of those words from when he was human. That left running to the hotel on foot. Gemini’s panic about what awaited him there didn’t give him pause; if anything, it added more urgency. What if whatever was in front of the hotel decided to attack the hotel itself as well? He imagined the hotel splitting open, like the collapsed street, and the only home he ever knew caving in on itself.

It couldn’t happen. Not while he was alive to do something about it.

The enemy that awaited him was the same large robot that he had fought when he first got to the hotel, only corrupted by the dark infection that had spread through Krat thanks to the Alchemists. Perhaps because it had retained much of its old move set, or perhaps because he was still fueled by urgency, he was able to make quicker work than usual of an enemy of its size.

Finally, he could get to the hotel, unimpeded.

X.I

The first thing to greet him was a massive banner that read “HYPOCRITE.” The second was Sophia, to his great relief, who stood near the stargazer, safe and untouched by the disarray around her. After speaking with her, he immediately went upstairs to check in on everyone else, stepping over the broken mess of split furniture and tossed decorations that the Black Rabbit Brotherhood had made of the hotel.

The others were safe too…all except for his father, who had been kidnapped. When Antonia finished telling him how to get to the Alchemist’s base, he stood there for a moment, silent.

His father was gone. The pristine beauty of the hotel had been sullied. A sickly gray pallor had returned to Antonia’s complexion, while everyone else stood in the office, the remnants of terror still clinging to their faces.

Fury.

That was the emotion he felt surging through him, he realized. He wanted to yell, kick something. He wanted to pay back the Black Rabbit Brotherhood tenfold, smash in the face of each member one by one.

He wanted to make them pay.

X.II

His trek through the Relic of Trismegistus was an anger-filled haze, paused only for a moment, when he answered the phone call from the King of Riddles. It wasn’t long afterwards that he was ascending a flight of stairs to be met with the Brotherhood themselves.

“Accept your fate. Death has come for you,” they said.

How funny. They took the words right out of his mouth.

The fight between himself and the Brotherhood was brutal. They had laced their weapons with things they hadn’t used before. One chose searing fire, another chose electricity to try to short his mechanisms, and another chose acid so that every cut from their knives would burn. For his part, his slashes were heavier than before, fueled by a bristling energy he hadn’t known he was even capable of producing.

He made good on his resolve to cut them down one by one, even when they brought in their eldest sibling—somehow reanimated by the Alchemists into something more monster than human. With this newfound viciousness, even the eldest soon fell to his attacks.

And stay dead, he thought, as the man crumbled to a heap on the floor.

All four members of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood were now nothing more than corpses. It was sobering, then, to realize that he had just wiped out a family.

A family that had gone after his own. They got what they deserved, as far as he was concerned, though he couldn’t help remembering a broken and bloody body, abandoned on a cobblestone street.

X.III

He broke his unspoken rule.

Not only did Alidoro admit that he had betrayed the hotel by helping the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, but he wasn’t even the Alidoro that Eugénie so admired—the one that saved so many people after the Workshop collapsed. No, that Alidoro was killed and replaced by the one before him. Alidoro—or rather, his true moniker, the Parrot—cared about nothing but money and saving his own skin, consistently met Eugénie’s kindness with contempt, repaid Antonia’s hospitality with betrayal, and even implied he was going to kill Eugénie for her resemblance to the original Alidoro.

He was already fuming, hand clenched around the grip of his weapon, when the invisible noose around the Parrot’s neck was tightened by the Parrot himself.

The man goaded him yet again, this time reducing him to a mindless puppet bound by the Grand Covenant that couldn’t attack the Parrot even if he wanted to.

For the hotel. For Eugénie and Antonia.

He proved the man wrong with brutal efficiency, cutting him down in one fell swoop.

With that, nearly everyone responsible for the attack on the hotel was dead. He realized, then, that his rule hadn’t been truly broken. Somewhere along the way, without him knowing, it had become attack whatever attacked him or anyone he cared for.

X.IV

Back at the hotel, he made the usual rounds he did whenever he was about to venture into a new area. He resupplied, got Eugénie to strengthen his weapons, and went to Sophia.

Sophia spoke to him first before she helped him, and what she said had a knot of worry forming inside his chest. She told him that she was ready for him to see her “real self,” and soon afterward, she disappeared as if she had never been at the hotel at all. Perhaps she truly hadn’t been; in all his time at the hotel, had anyone other than himself ever interacted with Sophia?

Heeding her warning about the difficulty of the journey ahead, he made sure he didn’t leave any matters unresolved before taking off. He took a brief detour and transported himself to the Barren Swamp to teach the Broken Puppet some more emotions. Then he did the woman Belle a favor by finding her partner. The man was already thoroughly infected by the time he found him, however, skin blue and sloughing off, barely capable of speech.

When he got back to the hotel, he honored the man’s request to tell Belle that her lover had already died fighting, then watched her heart break in real time as she processed the words.

The record she gave him, titled “Why,” felt appropriate. He didn’t know the first thing about offering comfort to those in grief, but he played the record on the gramophone. He hoped it would help her.

His final stop before going to the Isle of Alchemists was Venigni; he needed Venigni to decode the cryptic vessel that the Parrot had dropped.

Venigni had already been quite giddy about something though, and before he could bring it up, Venigni was already talking. Apparently, the man had finally decoded the Ergo wavelengths the King of Puppets used to communicate.

When Venigni began playing the recording, though he didn’t know why, he braced himself.

“Carlo, I hope you can hear me,” he heard, and his heart dropped to the floor. So that was why. A part of him knew, but didn’t want to admit it, when he saw the words carved onto the back of the necklace.

Romeo, Carlo’s friend, was the King of Puppets.

And then came the worst revelation of all: Law 0 of the Grand Covenant. All puppets had to obey their Creator—all puppets had to obey Giuseppe Geppetto—

Giuseppe Geppetto was the one who ordered the Frenzy.

His father ordered the Frenzy that devastated Krat long before even the Alchemists had a chance to do so.

The walls were shaking, the whole world trembling and losing its color, as he stood there, shocked into a stupor. He was sick. He wanted to lay down and cry, even though he wasn’t capable of producing tears. A body was lying on a cobblestone street, broken and bloody—half his face charred to a crisp—killed because they knew they knew they knew—

Venigni asked him who ordered the Frenzy, and so dismayed was he that the truth slipped out before he could even consider a lie.

Afterwards, when Venigni handed him the recording, he went to the stargazer. He listened to it twice. There, under the banner that read HYPOCRITE, it dawned on him that the accusation held a modicum of truth.

When the King of Riddles had asked him if he was a killer, he had said no.

XI.I

Sophia was there to meet him when he arrived at the Isle of the Alchemists. She explained to him that her true self was trapped inside the base, but that she was able to meet him with Ergo projections. Sophia had also been the cause behind his ‘resets’—she could use Ergo to manipulate his time, so whenever he fell, whether to an enemy or to a hostile environment, she turned back his time so he could try again.

She also gave a roundabout apology, confessing that she initially hadn’t woken him to save Krat, but to save herself. She then asked him to save both herself and Krat all the same.

“Please, give me peace,” she said.

In truth, there was no need for her apology. She was the voice that woke him, after all. She was the savior who had kept him from dying countless times over, strengthening him at every significant turn until he could do it himself at a stargazer. Krat or no Krat, he would have strived to save her regardless.

Sophia sent him off with a final word of guidance: a warning that the Isle could produce echoes of the past through its high concentration of Ergo.

The warning turned out to be necessary. There, in the sand and mist beyond the edges of the surf, he rediscovered pieces of himself that he had lost.

His mother’s voice and his first friend. His bitterness at his father’s neglect. His boyhood dream and the way it had been crushed by his death. He was sick all over again, remembering how close he had been with Romeo, and then remembering his relief when Geppetto had met him after he had defeated the King of Puppets.

The way his father consistently asked him to be a “good boy” gained a new, harsher light.

He made his way into Arche Abbey, taking down a huge, hulking creature he had trouble believing was truly once a man, then used its keycard to infiltrate the base. Once through, he took down every mutation in his path as he progressed further and further upward, until he was in a large room, flooded with water that reached his ankles.

The Black Cat stood at the other end, warning him as he approached that the Cat didn’t want a fight but would attack if it meant protecting the Fox.

The Fox and the Cat had aided in the attack on the hotel. They had been the ones to drag his father through the Relic of Trismegistus to be held captive on this island. By all means, attack whatever attacked him or those he cared for should have long been springing him into action. But. But.

A body was lying on a cobblestone street. His best friend was half burnt and crumpled on the floor.

He held out a Gold Coin Fruit to the Cat instead.

With genuine surprise, the Cat took it from his hand and thanked him, and he could hear the smile in the Cat’s voice as he reiterated that they truly could be friends.

Perhaps one day, when Krat wasn’t a broken facsimile of a city, they could be.

He carried that with him as he continued up the Abbey—the promise of something better. A revived and restored Krat as recompense for their effort; a place he could live, not merely survive in, with all the people he knew. A city where Venigni, Eugénie, Sophia, Antonia, and even Polendina and Pulcinella could roam free; a city where he could fulfill the dream of a dying boy and become a true Stalker.

He wanted it, he realized, and not just because others had asked it of him. Much like it had for Sophia, it had evolved into a personal goal of his.

This was the unspoken vow he made to himself as he took on Laxasia, the Complete: I will save Krat. I will save Sophia. I will end this madness.

XI.II

Witnessing Sophia’s death was something he had no name for.

He had walked into the room after defeating Laxasia expecting to continue ascending. He hadn’t expected a pristine carpet and furniture and functioning lights; he hadn’t expected to find a room that seemed suspended in time and space, divorced from the ruin of the rest of the Abbey.

He hadn’t expected the utter horror that was Sophia’s body.

She was sat inside what almost looked like a human-sized butterfly cage, and her hands—her entire lower half—were a mass of viny, oozing ichor, of the same kind as the dark ichor that had spread the infection across Krat. Dozens of blue butterflies that came from her Ergo powers were dead and fused to her. She was pale and motionless, head bowed, with ichor-colored tear stains dried on her cheeks. What used to be her hands were suspended in the air with dark ichor-strings and wrapped around the cage where she sat, shackling her to her prison.

“Save me,” she said into his head, voice so much weaker and feebler than it had ever been before. “It hurts so much… I want to be free… Please…”

Sophia’s life was a night-terror made real.

“Oh God,” Gemini had said, appalled, upon seeing her.

Oh God, he mirrored in his head. What had Simon Manus done to her?

And more importantly, how could he save Sophia with her body so far gone?

He couldn’t, he realized. The revelation felt like bile. Even if he cut her away from the cage, she would still be suffering. She wouldn’t have the peace she had begged him to give her. It was a horrifying situation with no good choice before him, but a decision had to be made, nonetheless.

Sophia asked him to take her Ergo, and so, he obliged.

There was a tremendous weight in each step he took as he neared her, the world falling away as it became just him and the girl who woke him. Just as she had for him countless times, he placed his hand on her chest. He should be crying, he thought, as something in him pulled, and her Ergo flowed into him. He should be crying, he thought again, as he stepped back and her body began to disappear.

His heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder it hadn’t split in half.

That was two of his friends, now, that were dead by his hand.

XI.III

His body had changed again. His hair was gray, and he hardly even felt his mechanisms anymore. He breathed properly now, too. He took notice when he rolled to dodge a blow, and the impact had his breath leaving him with a sharp oof. He hardly cared, though, for what worth was his transformation if it came at so high a cost? He simply continued his fight against the Alchemist-made abominations in his way.

Each hit from his weapon was punctuated with a name: Romeo, Sophia, Antonia, Polendina.

He had gone back to the hotel after Sophia died, both to resupply and to seek out Antonia. He had wanted to check on her health, but he also felt that hearing a warm, sympathetic voice at the moment would have done him well. Instead, his situation was made all the worse by Polendina’s announcement: Antonia was dead, and the puppet couldn’t handle the weight of the grief and was going to delete his personality.

Numbly, he walked upstairs to see with his own eyes, and it was true. Antonia was gone, her Petrification Disease already having finished the process of converting her body into Ergo. She had left him a letter; at the end of it, she said that the time she spent with him was like pure light.

He should have been crying.

On his way out of the office, he had noticed that the nose on his portrait had grown to an absurd length, glowing faintly with a golden light. Intuitively, he knew that some sort of process had been completed, the same way he had known that he was connected to the portrait. He had taken ahold of the nose and pulled, and as he had, it broadened and lengthened until what he held in his hands was a weapon.

It was a polearm made of deep brown wood and glittering gold, with golden leaves and coins at the ends that looked strangely as though they had been taken from the Gold Coin Tree. It was embedded with the name Golden Lie, and when he swung it experimentally, it felt as though he were wielding an extension of himself.

It was this weapon that he used now, mourning even as he fought, every strike a name of someone he had lost.

A curious thing started happening the more he used the weapon: he began to remember. He remembered in bits and flashes the book that had been read over and over until the edges of the pages were frayed. He remembered a young boy who had clutched a Gold Coin Fruit and wished fervently upon a star that he could be like the wooden puppet—that he might have a father who loved him, too.

A mother on her deathbed had given her boy a book about an old fairy tale, and the book became the boy’s sanctuary and lifeline.

He should be crying, he thought again, as he climbed a set of dusty stone stairs. Part of him was so furious that he wasn’t.

The Red Fox met him in the hall that followed, and his exchange with her went in much the same way as it had with the Black Cat: instead of attacking, he gave her a Gold Coin Fruit as well.

She surprised him again with her earnest apology. “You’re the only one who’s ever been kind to us,” the Fox said remorsefully, and it stuck with him.

He hadn’t been considering kindness at all as he acted; he had only been doing what felt right to him. He supposed that meant he was kind, if saving people and avoiding fights when possible were what felt right.

He wished his father had shared some of that kindness. Perhaps then, the man wouldn’t have ordered all the puppets in Krat to kill so many people.

He found Geppetto’s cell and unlocked it, a complex wave of emotions passing through him when his father was so overtly relieved to see him. Geppetto warned him about Simon Manus and urged him to go and stop the man from completing his mad plan, unaware that he would have done so regardless of whether or not Geppetto had asked.

He had a vow to fulfill, after all, and it was the urgency behind its completion that held him back from confronting Geppetto then and there about the Frenzy. After Simon Manus was dealt with and everything was over, he was going to have a long conversation with his father.

Before sending him off, Geppetto asked him if he had been a trustworthy father.

The question was startling, not least because the answer came to him quickly and easily, even though he had never considered it before.

“No,” he said, because his father had asked him to say the truth, and beyond freeing Geppetto from his cell, he didn’t want to afford any more kindness to the man who orchestrated the Frenzy and sent him to kill the puppet with his best friend’s Ergo.

Even more startling was Geppetto’s genuine remorse upon hearing his answer. “I wasn’t a very good father to you,” Geppetto said, somber and low. “I gave you more loneliness than love.

“Son, you’re all I have.”

What right had this man, to only now say what a young boy with a wish had wanted so ardently to hear, after the boy was already dead and remade into a shell of his former self? What right had this man to look at him so vulnerably and promise to be better, when it was already so late, and so many horrible things had happened?

He left, hating, hating with everything that he had, that he could not cry.

XI.IV

The sun was setting on the horizon. Crisp, salty air, heavy-laden with Ergo, whipped at his cheeks. The Golden Lie was steady in his hand, ready to make its mark.

There, at the very top of the Abbey, was Simon Manus: the madman with a plan to become a god. Earlier, he had gone back to the room where Sophia was kept to glean more of Simon Manus’ motivation, only to discover the man’s nauseating fascination with Sophia, as well as a complete disregard for her agency. Simon Manus, discontented with the amount of Ergo already contained within the Isle and the Relic of Trismegistus, had built a machine—that cage—to siphon her power, which resulted in the eventual degradation of her body.

This man had helped to destroy Krat on nearly every possible level, was the direct cause of Sophia’s suffering, and was the originator behind the plague that infected nearly everyone who wasn’t killed by puppets, all in the name of a perverse idea of evolution.

He advanced forward, his vow playing through his head like a broken record.

Grotesquely misshapen though Simon Manus had become, the man’s attacks still hit crushingly hard. He made sure to return what he received in kind, though, the Golden Lie swinging quickly and viciously at the man’s bulbous flank whenever possible.

Then, shaken and nearly beaten, Simon Manus split himself open, and a new, inhuman torso reached for the sky—

And a flood of Ergo answered, taking the shape of a giant hand.

He witnessed, then, the birth of an Ergo-stuffed monster that thought itself a god. Simon Manus’ attacks went from hard to near overwhelming, until suddenly overwhelming wasn’t just near anymore, and he had to reset.

And reset again. And again.

He should have found it frustrating, having to restart the fight so many times, but instead, he only thought of Sophia.

Though she was only a mass of Ergo now, her power still persisted—her intent to be with him until the end still persisted. The force behind every swing wasn’t only his own, nor the intuition that told him when to dodge and when to advance. He could feel it, like a sweet, low thrum: her Ergo inside his Ergo, her heart inside his heart, closer even than the air he breathed.

Sophia wasn’t fully gone, and with each reset, he found himself more and more determined.

I will save Krat. I will save Sophia. I will end this madness.

At a certain point, even Simon Manus took notice of Sophia’s intervention, saying, “Aw, our blue fairy adores you so. Pathetic.”

Simon Manus didn’t know how taunting him in such a manner would help contribute to the man’s own downfall.

Sophia had been willing to transcend even her own death in order to stop a maniac who caused untold amounts of pain and killed hundreds of people for his own gain. To hear her effort minimized in such a manner incensed him, to the point that there now was a near reckless level of aggression in his attacks that hadn’t been there before. Soon enough, the added aggression proved to be the eventual key to his victory.

A savage flurry of hits struck well and true, and Simon Manus fell.

Good. He hoped that each blow hit hard enough that it would still be smarting in the afterlife.

With life steadily trickling out of the man’s body, there was only moments left until the leader of the Alchemists was dead. To his muted surprise and to Simon Manus’ credit, that time wasn’t spent in anger or cursing him for having thwarted the man’s plans. Instead, those moments were spent speaking about Sophia.

When Simon Manus asked him what he had done with Sophia, he answered truthfully.

He gave her what Simon Manus never could: peace.

And then Simon Manus disappeared, not with a lamentation, not with regret, but with a warning for his sake, the one whom the blue fairy chose. “Watch out for Geppetto, puppet.”

It was time to go meet his father. He couldn’t withhold a surge of dread within him.

XI.V

He treaded slowly, carefully, towards his father, each step on dusty white stone resounding to his ears with the same sobering significance as the strike of a judge’s gavel.

There was a mad elation to Geppetto’s countenance as the man received him, talking about every “ingredient” being in place. The man talked about resurrecting him—resurrecting Carlo—as a human.

But I’m already alive, he thought, but didn’t say.

The man talked about using the item Simon Manus had used to transform himself, the Arm of God, in combination with the mountainous amount of Ergo still saturating the air.

Simon Manus turned into a monster. You want to turn me into a monster.

And then it came, the merciless deathblow to any goodwill he might have had left for his father.

With an outstretched hand, Geppetto said, “Give me your heart, son.”

His father wanted to rip his heart, still beating, out of his chest, and all he could think of was Sophia’s heart in his heart, her Ergo in his Ergo, still waiting to be saved.

“No,” he said, with resolute finality.

Later, he would look back and realize that this was the impetus for the ultimate tragedy behind what would ensue: he was both Carlo and the wooden puppet, created by Geppetto twice over, and in neither life did his father ever take him or his sentiments seriously.

“I believed you were a good boy…but you insist on breaking my heart,” Geppetto said, his visage morphing into something ugly and angry.

He listened to his father scold him like he was a misbehaving child, and then reduce him to a mere “puppet that would bring his son back to life,” as if Carlo hadn’t risen to his consciousness from the depths of his own heart, as if the little boy who had held a Gold Coin Fruit and wished for a better father had been a stranger.

Perhaps his father was at least partially right, he realized, brandishing the Golden Lie as he readied himself to fight: he might not have had all his memories as Carlo, but he certainly had a far better grasp on his personality.

He was going to make his father see that he was his own person, even if he had to fight his own reanimated corpse to do it.

The fight that ensued between himself and the corpse-puppet controlled by his father was difficult, but manageable, though he had to grit his teeth through the demeaning reprimands his father tossed at him. It wasn’t long until he was familiar with the corpse-puppet’s patterns of attack, and he was actively able to create openings for himself by briefly stunning it out of Geppetto’s control with the Golden Lie, and then rapidly switching to a blade that had been reinforced to its maximum strength by Eugénie.

With a heavy attack fueled by his own righteous anger and determination, he swiped through the corpse-puppet’s head, and the top of its skull fell clean off, the rest of it surely soon to follow.

Or so he assumed.

Something was wrong. He felt it even in his bones, when the corpse-puppet clutched its head in a silent scream, and with a wild burst of Ergo, it took over the strings that Geppetto had been using to control it. Its very Ergo had made the air around it tremor, distorted by something that felt heavy and oppressive.

He realized what it was when the puppet proceeded to overwhelm him less than a minute later. It was hatred.

Geppetto had to have been utterly blind to everything except what he wanted to see. There was no way that putting his heart in that would result in anything other than a Carlo-shaped monster.

He brandished the Golden Lie and steeled himself to try again. Though he made it farther this time, this fight went much like the last, and he was forced to reset. And then do it again and again.

Over and over, he tried to beat the corpse-puppet, tried to discern its attack patterns, tried to pretend that it didn’t sting to hear his father say time and again, “You’re just a puppet, nothing more!” All to no avail. The corpse-puppet was faster than him, hit harder than him, and he wondered if this was the nigh-poetic end he was meant to meet: defeated by his own damned corpse, the embodiment of a past he could not overcome.

In a moment of weakness after nearing two dozen resets, he briefly contemplated giving up and allowing Geppetto to take his heart. It would have been so easy. All he had to do was call out to Geppetto and tell him he’d changed his mind.

I will save Krat. I will save Sophia. I will end this madness.

The reminder of his vow immediately shamed him into shutting that line of thinking down. He had to live, for both Sophia’s and his own sake.

He went out to fight again for the umpteenth time, but the vow had raised in him renewed purpose and vigor. This was what he told himself, as he summoned the strength to start anew: he wasn’t going to let his father win. He wasn’t going to let the man decide that he wasn’t human, or that he didn’t have a say over what happened to his own heart. His humanity was his alone to make of it, even if no one else ever saw him as anything more than a puppet, even if he had to grasp it by the skin of his teeth.

He was going to fight this corpse until there was nothing left of him.

The fight this time was different. Perhaps it was a trick of his mind, or perhaps it was simply his own Ergo whispering to him, but he could swear he could hear the words of people he had met echoing in his ears as he fought.

Eugénie’s first time meeting him. Antonia’s warm voice, reminiscing. Venigni calling him someone who didn’t give up. Romeo’s parting words, drudged up from the depths of his consciousness. Simon Manus declaring a world of truth—a place where he wouldn’t have to lie to prove he was human. And finally, Sophia, who had promised to do everything she could to help him, and then kept that promise.

He would reset a million times, if that was what it took to preserve the life he had built after he awoke that fateful night.

The corpse-puppet was still too strong, but the knowledge and experience he gained from each attempt was finally catching up. This fight had gone on the longest so far, and he had managed to whittle down the corpse-puppet’s constitution more than with any other attempt.

The reverse was also true, though—the longer the fight went on, the more the corpse-puppet seemed to aim for his heart. As if through the cloud of hatred it operated under, the puppet could perceive that it was the source of his ability to defy death.

He narrowly avoided a sharp jab aimed right at the center of his chest, and he thought, somewhere, he might have heard a gasp.

Just a little more. Just a little further, and the corpse-puppet would fall, and he could prove to his father that he was more than what the man thought he was. He stunned the puppet once more with the Golden Lie. This had to be it, his chance for the decisive blow—

The stun was a feint.

Too quickly for him to react, the corpse-puppet split its weapon in two and swiped at him, its superior strength sending him flying backward. Now he was the one who was stunned, all the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back, perfectly vulnerable for the coup de grâce that was sure to come.

But when it came, he was stunned again, for all the wrong reasons.

His father stood there before him, sword stuck straight through the man’s torso.

There was a horrible wet cough, words he could hardly hear through the heavy rush of his own heartbeat roaring in his ears: “Were you…going to destroy…Carlo’s heart?”

And then his body was moving. With a searing energy ripped from a place inside himself he didn’t know he had, he rammed his mechanical arm into the puppet’s chest.

His hand came clean through the other side, wrapped around the puppet’s p-organ. He yanked his arm back, allowing the puppet to fall, and then collected energy into his arm until the mechanical heart was pulverized in his hand.

Something in him was restored as the corpse-puppet’s Ergo flowed into him. He couldn’t pay it any mind, because suddenly, behind him there was a thud.

No.

His father was on the floor. Everything was off-balance, off-kilter, nothing making sense as he fell to his knees next to Geppetto. His father wasn’t supposed to love him like this. His father wasn’t supposed to be willing to die for him.

Slowly, so slowly he felt as though he himself might break, he lifted his father’s head to see the man’s face more clearly. Geppetto coughed, and blood splattered from his mouth.

No, no, no.

Now, finally, was when the tears began to flow from his eyes.

Geppetto’s gaze fixed on his face—fixed on the tears that fell—and something like realization passed through the man’s face.

With the last bit of strength Geppetto had, he said, “I’m sorry, son.”

And then Giuseppe Geppetto breathed his last.

i

A dam within him had been smashed to pieces. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, head bowed low over his father’s corpse, sobs shaking out of him. It was irrational, but he begged Sophia to turn back his time. He begged to be allowed to save his father.

Nothing happened, of course, because the resets had never worked that way. He had never been able to restart a fight he had already finished.

And besides, what reason would Sophia have had to help him save the man who started the Frenzy, who knew his son so little that he was willing to destroy his son to “resurrect” him?

It didn’t make sense for him to care so much about Geppetto, he knew. Memories he didn’t have before flashed through his mind: his father never having time to be home, missing his graduation, sending birthday gifts through the mail instead of bestowing them in person. He should have hated Geppetto for all that the man did and didn’t do, should have spat on his corpse and walked away, like Romeo would have.

But he couldn’t.

He was forever Carlo, the boy who wanted his father to love him, and he was the wooden puppet, the one who realized that his father loved him far too late.

Something began to shift underneath his trembling hands. He watched, transfixed, as Geppetto, just like Sophia, disappeared into a glittering trail of Ergo. He wouldn’t even get to bury his father with his mother, then. Bitterly, he surmised that taking his father was fate’s cruel manner of reminding him that he couldn’t stay there forever. The fulfillment of his vow was still incomplete.

Though the grief was still there, burrowed into his heart, and he felt as though a part of him would remain crying forever, now was not the time to be rendered useless by his emotions. There would be time to mourn later. Now that Krat was saved, and the madness was over, he needed to save Sophia.

ii

It was hard, scouring Arche Abbey for a way to bring Sophia back. Not because the place itself was almost labyrinthine, nor because he didn’t have any leads—he found that within an hour or so in the area where Sophia had been kept—but because of his own body.

His head was pounding. He felt as though each limb were being weighed down by anvils. He was tired.

Whatever happened to himself being powered by Ergo? He didn’t feel a single mechanism within him anymore, nor did he have a clue whether, if he were to be cut open, what would be found inside his body would be cold steel or flesh and bone. Would he have to sleep, or eat, or use the latrine? Could he even call himself a puppet anymore?

What could he call himself?

The answer wouldn’t come to him until later, when he returned to the uppermost portion of the Abbey. He was treated to a full view of the sun coming up over Krat’s skyline, its morning light sweeping a bright, shimmering trail over the ocean. A different kind of dawn arose within him as he held his hand over his eyes, shielding his face from wind and too-bright sun so that he could take in the view in its fullness.

He knew who he was now.

The wooden puppet had become a real boy.

The revelation played through his mind, curled around his heart as he came across a hidden path in the upper levels of the Abbey that led to an area outside. Finally, he found it: the puppet body that Simon Manus had commissioned in the perfect likeness of Sophia, but had wound up discarding, dissatisfied with how doll-like the body was. The man had likely kept Geppetto alive so that his father could make another one that was a near perfect copy.

As he beheld the puppet, he knew that it would suffice. It had her face, her hair, even the gentle manner with which she carried herself in its demure posture. This was the girl who had woken the wooden puppet, and then helped the puppet become real.

He was Carlo Geppetto, son of Giuseppe Geppetto, and he was alive thanks to her.

Just as she had for him countless times, he placed his hand on her chest. Something in him pushed, and all that was Sophia flowed from himself into the puppet.

And then everything caught up to him at once, and Carlo fainted.

iii

Waking up in this body was something Carlo still had no name for. He was back in the hotel, and when he didn’t see Sophia there, he nearly panicked. He checked around, first downstairs, and then upstairs in his father’s study, withstanding the sharp pang he felt at its emptiness.

On his father’s desk was something that hadn’t been there before. It was a letter from Sophia. Carlo took it, fingers brushing the delicately woven ribbon that bound it, and then smiled at its kindred familiarity.

Thank you for giving me a new life, it began.

[thelordofgifs]

Omg congrats on 300!! Gonna be entirely predictable here but cld i ask for a finrod/bëor snippet pls and thank u <3

Over two months later… here you go!! ❤️❤️ this is like. incidentally Finrod/Bëor – I got a bit scared off writing Bëor by all the incredible fics of him I’ve read by my lovely talented Finrod/Bëor mutuals, but I hope this satisfies anyway!

-

Nargothrond was very beautiful, it was true. Finrod’s halls gleamed with all the bright generous spirit of their lord: every wall adorned with tapestries, every underground waterfall passing through nooks so cunningly wrought that one almost missed the gems that gleamed at the bottoms of the little pools. And the Elves of the hidden city, too, were welcoming, even battered and wearied as they had been made by the ravages of war. How could anyone wish not to dwell here?

And yet. And yet.

Finduilas missed Tol Sirion, which her father had held for Finrod since long before her birth. She missed the cool air of the north, missed the little gurgle of the Sirion in its infancy rushing past the island, so utterly different from the roar of the mighty Narog overhead.

She missed her mother; but to dwell on that would only send her father further into his spiral of despondency, and so she tried not to. And perhaps it was easier to grieve a tower or an island or a river than a whole person, there one moment and cut away from the fabric of the world the next.

So she went light-footed through the sparkling caverns, singing oftener than not; she befriended her cousin Celebrimbor, and made herself instrumental to easing the tension between the veterans of Nargothrond and the newly-arrived Fëanorian hosts from Himlad; she attended every formal banquet, even when her father was too sick to leave their quarters, and began to exchange shy smiles with the lord Gwindor when he sat opposite her.

Today, however, it was all too much; and she felt quite certain that offering up one more brilliant smile would kill her. Breathing hard, she shut the door of the King’s chambers firmly behind her, and then stopped short.

“Hello, Finduilas,” said her uncle.

“Uncle Finrod,” Finduilas gasped. “Oh, I am sorry – I did not think to find you here—” Finrod was usually socialising in the main halls at this time in the afternoon. “And you said—”

“I said that you were welcome to amuse yourself however you wished in my quarters, whenever you liked,” said Finrod gently. “I see no reason for that to change.”

“I have no wish to disturb you,” Finduilas said. Finrod looked sad, in a way she had not seen him since their arrival in his halls. Which was absurd, come to think of it: two of his brothers had died in the Dagor Bragollach, after all.

Perhaps Finduilas was not the only one who found laughter easier than grief. 

Today Finrod was as unfailingly kind as ever, pointing her towards a few volumes of Sindarin poetry she had not read before, but he did not seem chatty. He was frowning over a small trinket in his hand, as absorbed as though it, too, was inscribed with masterful lines of verse. From time to time he rubbed absentmindedly at the bare index finger of his left hand.

Finduilas set down her book and decided to be bold. “Uncle Finrod,” she said, “where is your ring?”

It could hardly be accounted one of Finrod Felagund’s finest gems, the little silver ring formed of two entwined serpents with emerald eyes; but as a child Finduilas had been fascinated by it, and her uncle had told her that his own father had made it for him, long ago in Valinor. Its absence had been one of the first things she had noticed about Finrod after coming to Nargothrond. It did not seem much like him to lose it.

Finrod did not look offended. In fact, he smiled a little. “I gave it to a mortal,” he said. “To Barahir son of Bregor, the Lord of Dorthonion.”

“A mortal,” Finduilas echoed curiously. “One of the line of Bëor?”

An odd spasm passed over Finrod’s face. “Yes,” he said briefly. “He saved my life in the Fen of Serech, and those of my company.” He passed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “And he shall pass before me too, whose grandfather’s grandfather I laughed with in his youth! A moth before the candle-flame indeed. Ah, Finduilas, it is hard, sometimes, to love so dearly something so fleeting.”

“Then why?” Finduilas asked softly. She rose to her feet and came to stand by Finrod’s shoulder. “Uncle, is there not grief enough in the world already?”

Finrod’s blue eyes, usually so warm, were very mournful now. “I hoped never to hear a child of the Long Peace speak so,” he said.

“I have heard you say that grief is the lot of all the Eldar,” Finduilas countered.

“Did I say so?” Finrod sounded a little surprised. He looked down at the little locket in his hand. Up close, Finduilas could see that there was something clasped within its halves, a miniature portrait etched on resin. “Aye, I spoke truly enough – or so I feel, in my fits of melancholy.”

Until recently Finduilas would not have named any elf less prone to fits of melancholy than Finrod Felagund.

She looked at the portrait. It was of a mortal Man, she saw immediately, for his face was bearded and the lines of his hair were occasionally abbreviated, as though to suggest a sprinkling of white amid the dark. The likeness, she could tell, was very good – and she saw also that the one who had made the little etching had cared for its subject deeply.

“That is he,” said Finrod, following her gaze. “Balan himself – or Bëor, as you would know him.”

A strange and wondrous thought came to Finduilas then. “Uncle, did you – love him?” she asked.

“As deeply as any person ever loved another,” said Finrod, and he sighed.

Finduilas thought of her father’s terrible silent grief, which was his for all the rest of his eternal days, unless he too passed to the Halls of Mandos. “I am very sorry,” she said honestly; and then, as if some power greater than her own will had taken possession of her tongue, she blurted out, “How could you choose that?”

“The parting for all time?” Finrod asked, his voice heavy. “Watching him fade, and then his children and his grandchildren too?”

Finduilas bit her tongue and nodded.

“I did not choose it,” said Finrod. “Love is not always something you choose, dear niece. You will understand that some day.”

Finduilas thought of Gwindor, and blushed a little – but she was not entirely sure she agreed. Their courtship felt a most deliberate dance, to her.

“Would you choose it again, if you could?” she asked. “Knowing how it ended?”

Finrod met her eyes. “Yes,” he said, unhesitatingly. Finduilas must have looked puzzled, for he said, “Love mingled with grief is sometimes the sweeter for it, Finduilas.”

Finduilas did not understand him, then. It was not until many years after Finrod’s own passing, when she stood in her father’s hall and saw the dark-haired stranger before him, that her uncle’s words came back to her ears, and she knew them to be true.

[seijorhi]

oh rhi.. i’ve missed you 🥺 i’m so sorry for lurking for a bit (after the job application phase i’m now working on the law school app phase 🤮) but you know. you know i had to come out. oh my god. i will always always ALWAYS love your oikawa fics (get together to talk about your thoughts on a settle part iii one day?), but kuroo, especially the sexy dilf version, is my fave. fuck. all i can really say is you just know how to put things down on paper. no one has a mastery of words like you do i’m telling you ugh i need to just kiss your brain pls

not to be breeding kink 🤣 but ohhh my god what was kuroo thinking cumming inside not once but TWICE. was it a goal for knock her up with his baby or what were his thought processes on that?

also, at this point, is it safe to assume kuroo chose the reader over his own son? fucking the reader in shin’s room and all was bold putting it lightly.. almost as if he didn’t care enough if shin found out (also, the parallel of them both claiming her as “mine” was so chill inducing, i love how you think and write—you know that?) you always give the perfect amount to make our imaginations run so wild and i cant help but wonder how tetsu’s “relationship” w his son will look like moving forward 😭 (or if kuroo will get to fuck us again-)

overall just ugh. so so so good and talented miss rhi. i hope you’re doing well and happy belated new year!! i love you!! 🥹❤️

🐦

p.s. would love to see more of your baking content!

bby you never have to apologise for lurking <33

and yea, i was rocked to my very core the day i found out your true haikyuu love was not oikawa (you remember, the guy you commissioned two fics for) but kuroo lmao. also yes :)) settle pt3 :))

anyway anyway onto the questions. what kuroo was thinking was that this here's a nice pussy i think i'm gonna cum in it vghfdjksdjbhfdjsk

but no the breeding kink did occur to me.

as for shin finding out, that was almost an inevitability no matter how the chips fell. either he stumbled across them in the kitchen christmas morning, the reader told him in the days that followed, shin put two and two together himself and figured it out, or she broke up with him and... well... problem solved, really.

after that first taste – call it a confirmation of sorts – there's no going back. it didn't have to be this way, but it is, and it was time his boy knew that.

[quodekash]

this kid getting lost is such a mood

except for me its not "getting lost on the way to the top of a mountain that's really dangerous and far away to get to", it's more like "getting lost on the way to a friend's place who lives 15 minutes away, while they were trying to tell you where to go, and also whose house you have been to more times than you can count, but then you had to sit at a playground and wait for them to come pick you up because youre just that hopeless at navigation"

WAIT THIS IS SO FUNNY

THEY'RE IN THE SAME PLACE AGAIN

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY SOMETHING I WOULD DO OML

stop i might cry

this kid is amazing

i would trust him to guide me into the afterlife

he could take over charon's job fr

PLS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

im shivering so much rn, leeches give me the heebiejeebies more than like. anything

i smell merch??

(side note: why are earth/phu's arms so veiny in that shot)

i just love him so much

i hate children but i would adopt this one and take care of him better than hes ever been taken care of before

HSDHSDHHDS

HIS ONE CHARACTER TRAIT IS LOVING HOW PRAN SMELLS AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH

he's just so silly

their father/son dynamic will be the end of me

especially when i think about pat and his relationship with his actual dad :(

PLS EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS SO OVERDRAMATIC

PHU POINTING A GUN AT A BUSH WHEN ITS DEFINITELY JUST GONNA BE ONE OF THE LOST GUYS

PAT TRIPPING OVER A ROOT

PRAN AND TIAN GRIPPING FOR DEAR LIFE SO THAT THEY CAN MAKE IT UP A SLIGHT HILL

IF THEY LOSE THEIR GRIP, NOTHING WILL HAPPEN

ITS SO FUNNY TO ME

BUT ALSO ITS SO UNNECESSARILY DRAMATIC

AND THIS IS COMING FROM A DRAMA KID

SEE????

i love him so much

GUYS CALM DOWN OMG

I CANT STOP LAUGHING

ITS LITERALLY GOING TO BE FINE

SEE????

also once again: his arm is so veiny???

THEM <33333333

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

GERHSGBDRHV

these dramatic-ass gays

(i was gonna say something about the importance of grammar there and the hyphen needing to be where it is for it to be right / make sense, but "dramatic ass-gays" would also work)

LOOK AT THEMMMMM

PHUTIAN WALKING WITH THEIR SON BETWEEN THEM LIKE THE DADS THEY ARE, AND THEIR ADOPTED SONS PATPRAN WALKING WITH THEIR ARMS AROUND EACH OTHER

THEY ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME

wait how long were they gone for

HIS SMILE <3

HIS DIMPLES <3

PAT'S FACE ON THE SIDE THERE <3

T H E Y A R E D A D S

are you sure about that

theyre so important to me

<3

i really want noodles now

its 1am and i want noodles

theyre listening carefully to all the tea, tuning in to the drama

its just, some are more discreet about it than others

look at this little guy

just enjoying his noodles while the adults do their adult things

i love him so very very much

something about this image is just so funny to me

i think its the kid

i genuinely forgot his name

but i love him so much

as a 158cm tall (5'2) person, i dont like how tall they all are

knowing that ohm is 186cm tall and nanon and earth are 183cm hurts me on a deep emotional level

theyre so small. theyre such tiny little silly guys. and yet theyre all more than 20cm taller than me.

honestly i agree

he's wonderful

he's multi-talented

just like sound

by the way, soundwin = patpran and if you dont believe me, click here! (that was a seamless transition into a very casual self promo)

holy hell i love this child so much

i would protect Kampung with my freaking life

i would die for him without a second thought

i should also probably do that

my eyes keep going shut so then i need to pause the episode for like twelve seconds so i can get a little bit of sleep

its getting more and more difficult, though

i think ill finish in the morning, it's saturday tomorrow

goodnight!! bye-bye!!

[txxfiles]

give me all the fics where the boys kiss

Hi! It looks like I'm week 3!

I honestly have no idea idea what im doing really but i guess you'll just have to listen to me ramble about something i enjoy. Seems to fit the theme we've accidentally settled on and well! if theres one thing im good at rambling about its bl fanfiction. i read ALOT of fanfiction. like 13million words worth of it in 2023 alone (an estimate but i did the ugly math for jan and feb last year and id already read 2.7 million words so i dont think its too high an estimate).

ive read fics from too many fandoms to count and also have way more hyperfixations then any one person has a right too but the one that has owned my ass consistently for the last 4 years is The Untamed otherwise know as Mo Dao Zu Shi (MDZS).

The lovely Eucalyptus from week 2 was watching the untamed during covid (and holy shit what a wild ride that was) and the next thing I know im neck deep drowning in fan art and tiktok edits of beautiful chinese men that have no business being as talented as they are (Im looking at u Wang Yibo) This. shit. fucked. up. my. life.

then i turned to my good friend AO3 (love of my life i could not exist without you) and 4 years later ive read my tags dry. if its complete, ive read it. im getting desperate and ive started reading works in progress, yikes. its so risky i honestly cannot tell you how much anxiety it gives me. ive been burnt too many times.

HOWEVER

this does mean if you need a fic recommendation then your girl has got you covered, so i figured i would share with you my TOP SIX fic recommendations. im sorry i tried to make it 5 but i just couldnt do it.

I will be chasing a starlight by feyburner & sundiscus 

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 71,479 words - Complete

Omg. Wangxian Startrek AU. The pining, the miscommunication. I felt every range of emotion on this roller-coaster. I literally printed this out so that I could keep it forever. I wish I could read it for the first time all over again. This Fic hit AO3 like a comet. It even has it’s own Tumblr thread! Also comes with stunning fanart.

Paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 53,808 words - Complete

Modern Day AU, Musician/Single dad Lan Wangji falls in love with his son’s Art Teacher Wei Wuxian. I swear it's one of the cutest stories ever written, makes me feel all the good things. A-yuan is adorable and wangxian are hot and charming. The Ultimate wangxian comfort fic. 

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller 

Jin Rulan & Wei Wuxian - 63,907 words - Complete

Jin Ling fishes his Da-Ju out of the gutter post canon (Literally dying alone in a dirty inn, Wei Wuxian it's been 5 minutes pls) and decides if no one else is gonna keep him then he damn well will. 

It is perfect.  

Junior Quartet goodness, Yunmeng bro reconciliation and Jin Ling being a boss bitch little shit that has no time for anyone's bullshit. I cried as much as Jin Ling did in this story – which is alot. (Also another story ive made myself a solid copy of that i can love forever)

Joy In The Mindst of These Things by Glitterbombshell 

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 52,901 words - 5 Works

TEACHER WEI WUXIAN! I love this trope with my whole soul. Lots of adorable baby Lans, I would kill for them. Beautifully written. Lan Qiren gets a much needed wakeup call. Last story is incomplete but can be read without the 5th installment. SO WORTH IT, ive read it like 10 times

The One-Body Problem by mitisket 

Lan Jingyi & Wei Wuxian - 28,689 words - Complete

Well shit. How many times have a reread this story? I honestly couldn't tell you. Jingyi gets possessed by Wei Wuxian’s very tired soul pre canon and it changes nothing and yet everything. Their friendship gives me life and Jingyi fixes a lot of problems for his new bestie/mentor/uncle with his big mouth. Mom I love him 

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 277,225 words - Complete

The best Zombie Apocalypse au on the MDZS tag honestly. There are so many good zombie film references in this one, i see you Train to Busan. Baby junior quartet, a perfect Wei Wuxian modern day depiction and so much love, angst and stress. It's delicious and I've never recovered.  

All of these fics are actually part of a mother document i made last week of all my favourite fics organised by tag because apparently thats what i do with my free time. hit me up if you need a rec!

Now that ive gotten that off my chest i'll let you be lol. maybe I'll do a rec for a different fandom next time. I definitely have enough to choose from!

Lots of Love,

Iris

[vampireclub7]

I feel like you did this for me so thank you BPP!! 🥲 😭

Resending the ask:

Jungwon caught my eye too BPP!!

Can you please talk more about him?

I’m curious about how a younger member became the leader of the group. Aren’t hyung-dongseng hierarchies strict in Korea? How is his personality?

He looks so fascinating to me. I don’t think I’ve seen someone with his face shape before. Anything about him is ok, just tell me. And pls give me your best examples of his dancing! His dancing reminds me of Jimin. It’s so sharp!

***

Lol!

I feel like I can immediately tell how he got you.

You saw him move, and then you saw his face. It’s the double-whammy effect of it that got you, isn’t it?

In spirit of full transparency (lol), I debated answering this ask because I like Jungwon a lot so I’m selfish with him. Liked him since he was on I-Land, I even put money down, betting that he was going to debut. And he made me good money by debuting, ranked 1st.

He’s a badass, he's beautiful and intelligent. His ambition is palpable and I can only hope he gets the right support. I think he has flaws (like everyone else in the group) that hopefully he learns to manage better the older he gets. I’m cautiously hopeful about the whole team, but trust his competencies as an idol.

When he performs Jungwon fully commits. Every time. You’ll see it when we watch his cover and fancams. That’s the thing about him that personally reminds me of Jimin, occasionally. He's a perfectionist, has high standards and holds himself to them. He’s competitive, emotionally intelligent, mindful of the team, kind and principled (at least so far), and that’s why he was nominated to be leader despite being the second youngest member. As Heeseung (the oldest) was the only other person nominated by the members, Heeseung declining the position in favour of Jungwon thankfully turned out to be the right choice. Jungwon appears to bear the responsibility well. But he’s also young, he’s got a bit of an ego (understandably lol), and he’s still relatively inexperienced.

So naturally, I’m selfish with him. I’ve also seen him make a lot of people very delulu when he’s barely legal, so I’m cautious on where I talk about him. Some k-pop stans can be weird and you never really know lol.

Anyway, I’m still happy you’re so curious to hear about him. So, sure why not, let’s talk about Jungwon. :)

Something about him just makes me want to do Show and Tell. Like, present him to the class as a pet, curiosity, or marvel. Because I feel he’s so pretty and full of talent, it should be self-evident, leaving nothing for me to really say besides, “Here’s Jungwon.”

*

*

(No, this picture isn't edited in the way think it is)

*

*

*

(with Ni-ki)

*

*

*

I love that you caught his dancing right away. After his voice, his dancing is the next thing that stood out to me during I-Land. He’s incredibly strong in his movements, I think that's why it looks 'sharp'. He's got the strongest popping skills in the group, and is also very fluid. That’s what is reminding you about Jimin with his dancing, I think.

Jungwon dances in such a way that the only right way to watch him dance, is either watching him live or on a very big screen.

The fact he can match and keep pace with Ni-ki says enough, really.

It's best to see him dancing with the rest of his team, in my opinion. It gives one a good appreciation of how well he fits into Enha. So, I'll link their MMA 2022 dance break performance, starts at 4:00. Note the imagery of having him in center for the final part of that dance break where he plays puppeteer.

*

For Jungwon's own fancam of that break, to see what he's doing up close,

*

Pardon my language, but that is insanity. Everything about it. I don't want to be dramatic but the fact Belift/HYBE is having a three year old group do this level of floor work and stunts in their performances is ridiculous. Remember the aerial flips Son Sungdeuk was having Jimin do for something like 3 comebacks? This is like everyone in the group doing something that requires the same focus and energy as aerial flips - everybody in the team, all the time. The talent in that group is mad. The way Belift is moving with them has me a bit worried. I don't want to say scared but it comes close, because of how young they are.

Anyway, I digress.

His dancing is phenomenal and I'm happy to provide more examples, but it's probably best if we end here today. :)

[liamsunshine]

Hello I’m live blogging Niall on The Voice s23 so enjoy the ride, the one or 2 people that will see this 🤍🧡

The actual very first thing u see is a sign that says One Direction <- in the direction Niall & Chance go and I think that’s very cute of them 🙃

Niall and Blake are already being cute w each other in the first blind, I can tell I’m going to adore whatever their relationship is about to become. Adam who?

HIS ACCENT HAS GOTTEN SO THICK AGAIN I LOVE HIM SO MUCH JFC

Niall, raising a finger with a shit-eating sweet smile after Kelly tries to sell: “I’ve been in a group! 😃😃😃”

Blake and Niall giving us 1d crumbs ok ok ok <3 (:

“Old head young shoulders, Kelly.” Im so fucking in love w him shut up niall pls god

Niall fits in so well with all the other judges and his sense of humor is so perfect for The Voice… like this show has done well bc it brings in judges and contestants that are very down to earth and balanced and genuinely good… that’s all Niall baby

Not Niall but wow I was crying over that sweet guy and his wife

“Blakey-boy” IM CHEWING THE COUCH

“I kept saying NIall, NIall.” “He musta been saying my name wrong.” pfffffttt

Niall’s Blake impression. NIALL’S BLAKE IMPRESSION. NIALL TELL ME YOU’VE BINGE WATCHED THE VOICE WITHOUT TELLING ME

WHAT DID I SAY:

- “This is my son. My son is…” *brings Niall in for a hug* “You’re good you know that?”

(Kelly: “We should celebrate, like there should be some form of tequila”)

- “Come on son, let’s go get ‘em.”

- “Let’s go dad.”

WHERE IS THE GIANT BRIGHT SCREEN WITH NIALL’S FACE AND WHY ARENT THEY SHOWING IT

Kala is so talented and SO up Niall’s ally… OH MY GOD NIALL YOU LITTLE SHIT I LOVE HIM HE WAS PLANNING THAT SO WELL

AJD THE WINK!!!!! Hehsidjdjhddhehbd

Did he just fall in love like actually? I’ve never seen Niall look like that omg

Oh Niall the hoodie… why did he go grey lmao

Kelly calls him “Ireland”????? Omfg

HE’S SCHEMING LOL “ I just want to go grab a guitar and write a song with you.” Oh my god???? That’s a proposal in Niall-speak????????? Kala u r living my dream

His Blake voice wow oh my god… it’s making me feel things. his giggle… i feel like it’s 2012 and im 1d blogging over graining interviews

“Where’s my lawyer?!” tell me u cant hear him say it and tell me u dont know what it reminds u of :)

STOP GUYS THEY PLAYED “PERFECT” AS HIS BG SONG WHEN THE CONTESTANT CHOSE HIM 🥺🥺🥺 IS THAT ALLOWED????? 😭😭😭😭

The actual scheming that went into that church boy who??

“I can’t fight One Direction.” Kelly ur so right.

Blake is proud of his son 😩❤️

Hand kiss???? Holy shit Adam ACTUALLY move over it took you seasons to get a neck kiss from Blake… w the pace that Niall’s moving they’ll be hooking up by the summer

SCREAMING IT WAS JIMMY FALLON goooood he’s my favorite night time host!!! And he’s so talented!!!!! Even w his impression singing he was good lol. I was hoping it would be Adam but this was great <3

Anyway that was my reaction and I’m even more in love w him I can’t stand it. Can’t wait for next week for more 1d crumbs. And for Adam to appear. And for Blake and Niall to get matching bracelets. It’s gonna be great.

[queen-rainy-love]

Okay this is like a talent show thing with no reward; all of this is for fun. A ton of Cookies in the Kingdom show off their talents. Clotted and his friends plus clover are helping him sing this song he had “written” (Top of My School by Katherine Lynn Rose). When its their turn everyone is captivated by this as well that the PL Family & Custard. Clotted let out a few tears. After that, everyone clapped. Clotted grabs the mic and says “To my stupid excuse of a father, Custard. I hate you. Die.”

Hmmm. I might change the ending a bit but...

(Also, this song...so him.)

*The scene is set in the Vanilla District of the Cookie Kingdom where a talent show was being held. Clotted Cream was watching the contestants perform their acts with Mint Choco, Clover, Parfait, Cotton, and Cocoa. Clotted Cream is a bit nervous.*

Clotted Cream: Are we sure this is a good idea? Almost everyone from all the kingdoms is here.

Parfait: Really?! That's amazing! I wish I had my camera ready for a video!! We would get so many views and likes!!

Clotted Cream: What?

Mint Choco: Don't worry about it. Besides, *places a hand on Clotted Cream's shoulder* you just need to focus on the song. Once we start, it'll be done before you know it!

Cocoa: Yeah! And we can get cocoa after this!

Cotton: And go pet sheep!

Mint Choco: Right! And there are no judges or prizes, so less pressure.

Clotted Cream: I still don't know...

Clover: *places a hand on his shoulder* It'll be fine. You worked hard on your song and everyone loves your singing. There's no need to worry. And if anyone tries anything to ruin the show, Red Velvet and Wildberry are in the audience.

Clotted Cream: That last part has me a bit worry...

Announcer: *on stage* Thank you Muscle Cookie for that impressive juggling act! Next up is the Cookie Kingdom's own music group: The United!

Clotted Cream: Who came up with that?

Parfait: It was last minute and I panicked! Go! *Starts pushing Clotted Cream to the stage with everyone else following*

*Once on stage, Clotted Cream could feel his chest tighten up a bit. He had never really sang prior to coming to the Cookie Kingdom and he didn't know if he could do it. But once glance over at the Pure Lily family, his baby brother Custard III, and Wildberry calmed him down. He never noticed his father at the back, looking at him with interest. Clotted Cream took a breath and lead the song. As he sang, the others followed suit, Clover and Mint Choco playing their instruments. Clotted Cream could feel a tear or three fall but he prayed no one saw them. After letting out the last note, the crowd erupt into cheers. The group bowed and exit off stage, smiling and cheering too.*

Parfait: Oh my goodness!! That was amazing!!! Oh, I wish I had recorded this!!!

Cotton: The crowd love your singing Clotted Cream!! And did you see Wildberry's face? He couldn't take his eyes off you!

Clotted Cream: *blushes* Really? I barely noticed.

Clover: It's very true! And see? I told you this would fine!

Cocoa: Yeah. You know what this calls for?

Mint Choco: A cocoa party?

Cocoa: Exactly!!!

*The group was about to cheer again when someone cleared his throat. They look behind them and saw Custard standing right there. Clotted Cream could feel his heart drop. He didn't know that his father would be here and he didn't think he would hear the song. He didn't know what to do!*

Clover: *stands in front of Clotted Cream* Ah. Cousin Custard. What brings you here?

Custard: I just wish to speak to my son. Privately. That's all.

*Everyone looks at Clotted Cream, worried for his well being. He took a deep breath and nodded. Everyone hesitated but quickly left.*

Parfait: *whispers* We'll be right around the corner. Scream if you need help. *Leaves*

*Clotted Cream took a breath and walked closer to Custard.*

Clotted Cream: I didn't know you were here.

Custard: I came to see the progress of this Kingdom more thorough. However, I was surprised to see a small showcase performing here. Surprised to see you singing.

Clotted Cream: *Stiffens* O-oh. Yes. My friends wanted me to sing again and to write my own song.

Custard: I see. And is there something you want to say to me? Face to face?

Clotted Cream: *hesitate* I...Yes..There is. I hate you. I hate everything you did to me growing up. I hate everything you do to me now. I hate how you kept me and Custard Cream away from each other! I hate the reason why you kept my mother away from me!!! I hate you so much that I wouldn't care if you crumble in front of me!!

*Clotted Cream pants hard as Custard stood there. He expected Custard to yell back but instead he got these words.*

Custard: You have the same fire that your mother use to have before our marriage. I'm sure she would love to see you like this now. *Leaves before Clotted Cream could say anything.*

Clotted Cream: (Mom...Where are you?) *Tears start to fall.*

[free-for-all-fics]

Some Downton/Tom Branson prompts and ideas. These are old but might as well share them anyway. I shared the first one with @welcome-to-writers-haven on anon way back before I made this blog. (Hiiiiii!! It’s me 🙂 it’s been ages) And found these other ones buried in my notes app. Pls tag me if any of these inspire you to write something! 💜

1. Sometimes I think about a Downton Abbey and Bridgerton crossover fic idea (that I don’t have the time nor talent to write) where you’re a paternal descendant from one of the 4 sons, like a great-granddaughter or something, so you still carry the Bridgerton surname. You’re much like Eloise, an independent and free spirit, unafraid to speak your mind or challenge societal norms. You meet and befriend the Crawleys, only to fall in love with Tom Branson. This of course creates gossip and there’s talk wherever you go, especially if/when you agree to marry him, but you don’t care. The Crawleys approve of you not only for the benefits they could reap from Tom’s union with a woman from the Bridgerton bloodline, considering your social standing and wealthy inheritance; but because you make Tom so happy and like himself again after losing Sybil. No, it doesn’t really make sense, but I just think it’d be neat.

2. Imagine being American and meeting Tom while he and Sybbie are living in Boston. He takes you on a few dates and Sybbie soon adores you like family. A year passes, and he asks you to come with him and Sybbie back to Downton to meet the rest of the family, whom are all eager to meet you. You come from a more humble background, so you’re overwhelmed by the grandeur and opulence of it at first, but Cora being American herself puts you a little at ease and everyone else helps make you feel welcome. You fall further in love with Tom during your stay. Maybe the Crawleys and/or staff try to subtlety scheme to encourage the romance by pushing you closer together in the hopes Tom will propose. They just want Tom to be happy and in love again after Sybil.

3. Imagine being the second wife of Tom Branson and stepmother to Sybbie. (Whether you’re a Crawley sister or not is up to you.) What would that be like? What if you got pregnant? Would Tom start having fears and nightmares about your pregnancy being fatal like Sybil’s? So basically “Being Tom Branson’s second wife and/or pregnant with his child years after what happened to Sybil would include?”

4. Imagine being best friends with Sybil since birth and growing up together, practically like sisters. After Sybil’s death, Tom asks you to help him look after Sybbie so that you’d be a constant in her life since you were so near and dear to Sybil. He knows neither you nor he can bear to lose what remains of Sybil’s memory. You’re both mourning and Tom struggles with his sense of belonging, feeling lost and confused without Sybil. You’re supportive and give each other a shoulder to cry and lean on, a comforting light in this dark time. You become a dear friend to him and as he grows to think of Downton as his home, he falls in love with you. Once time has numbed the pain for both of you and it doesn’t hurt anymore, you show each other what it means to be in love and happy again.

5. Imagine if you were a guest in the house, in a romantic relationship with Tom during the Downton fire in episode 1 of season 5. Tom gets worried about you, and that worry becomes fear when he can’t find you outside with the others. Would he rush back in the house to find you himself? (You’re maybe unconscious when he or the firemen find you, but you’d be fine)

6. Imagine being a writer/editor who works for Edith and meeting Tom at her wedding. Your friendship begins there, and grows into a romance. You’re not exactly high in status or class, but neither of you care about all that nonsense.

(Or just a fic where it’s like Sybil and Tom’s love story, but kind of reversed. Tom has moved up in status at this point in time, managing the estate and selling cars, and you’re considered “lower” than him. But neither of you care. Maybe reader makes something of herself despite what she was born into, like Gwen did.)

7. You’re the youngest Crawley daughter, 3 years younger than Sybil and yet so much alike you’re practically twins. You’re the only one in the family who wholeheartedly supports Tom and Sybil’s relationship from the beginning. After Sybil dies, you and Tom both feel like you’ve lost half of yourselves. You wake up early to run errands, go horseback riding or take long walks alone to cope. You’re often gone for many hours, deeming it too painful to stay in the house where your beloved sister died. Tom eventually joins you on your walks and takes you for long drives with no destination in mind. You become very good friends as you lean on each other for support during this difficult time. Sometimes you’ll just sit in silence while holding hands and that’s enough. Grief brought you closer, but as Sybbie grows up, you fall in love with Tom.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you fell; it’s like it started slowly then came rushing all at once. While your family is happy for you both, you struggle with your newfound romantic love for Tom. You feel a disgusting pit of guilt in your stomach every time you kiss. You think you’re betraying Sybil and stealing her husband. You’re afraid of your confusing feelings, too afraid to even tell Tom about your struggle. You and he correspond through letters for a year while he and Sybbie are in Boston. In one such letter, he proposes. He writes that he’ll ask again properly when next he and you meet, he just couldn’t wait. You go to Sybil’s grave to ask for her forgiveness similar to how Mary did at Matthew’s grave. You confide in someone (Mrs. Hughes? Edith? Cora?) about your conflicted feelings and realize that Sybil would want you and Tom to be happy since she loved you both very, very much. You’re in love with each other, and where’s the shame in that?

8. You’re the youngest Crawley daughter and became very close friends with Tom when he first came to Downton as the Chauffeur. When he married your older sister, Sybil, you were happy to be maid of honor at their wedding, even if it was a small affair. You often visited them in Ireland or corresponded through letters while back home in England. After Sybil’s death, you were beside yourself with grief along with the entire household. But you loved Sybbie with all your heart and would spend as much time as you could with her. She’s the last vestige of your late sister and you care for her deeply. You can’t count the number of times you’ve held her, fed her, played with her, or put her to bed with a lullaby or story. You’d stay with her while Nanny had to run down to the sewing room or grab baby paraphernalia.

Even if the nannies insisted you didn’t have to do something, you didn’t mind. Over the years, Sybbie grows up and is followed by more children such as George and Marigold. Your friendship with Tom becomes so much more and you slowly but surely fall in love. Many years after Sybil’s death, you and Tom marry. Tom and you both want children, but you go to Dr. Clarkson with concerns about potential pregnancy risks before you start trying. You’re worried if what happened to Sybil is more likely to happen to you since you’re sisters. As your pregnancy progresses, both you and Tom get nervous. But everything is fine, you and your baby make it through with no complications.