#such masterpieces must never come to an end

[cordeliawhohung]

a fox cries; never howls (1/3)

an alternate universe to In Limbo | simon riley x fem!reader | masterlist | AO3

you're a stranger across the counter. you want so desperately to crawl back over, but it will never be the same anymore.

cw: mafia!au, can be read without prior In Limbo knowledge but it does help, non-con/rape, pedophilic undertones, forced prostitution, abusive relationships, abduction, forced medical practices/treatments, self harm, suicide attempt, mention of abortion, mention of pregnancy, reader is described as having long hair for plot reasons (can be natural, braided, etc), Simon is not the abuser in any of the tags previously listed, whump with an eventual happy ending but it's going to hurt until then.

Each time it happens, you tell yourself it’ll be different, but it never is. 

Broken promises lay in glistening shards around the heels strapped to your feet as you grit your teeth through the pain. No matter how much you beg and plead, it’s always the same. That visceral ache shooting through the core of your being still brings tears to your eyes the same it did the first time. It will continue to plague you. Haunting your cheeks in messy streaks as it drips onto the counter your hands so desperately palm at. Each tear that splatters by your fingers shimmer with black flakes. Running mascara. It stains everything it touches — especially you.

You’re prettier that way. Ruined. At least, that’s what you’ve been told. 

Always pretty on your knees; bent over; looking up; crying; pleading; beg; beg for it; and keep crying; yeah, just like that. 

Your skin is scarred, marked in the shape of greedy lips, and it stings like the wound is fresh. Words seep into the soft tissue where it continues to fester. Burrows its spindly roots until it can bear fruit. You could pull at the stem all you like, but you can’t escape the fact that it’s now a fundamental part of you. The only thing keeping your bones from crumbling. This mantra. This throe. 

“Not tryna hide, are you?” 

Avaricious fingers dig into the firm cartilage of your throat as you’re yanked back and forced to look at yourself in the mirror. The ripples of your defilement echo throughout your body — and you’re forced to watch it. The bounce of your breasts and the smudged makeup dripping along your cheeks. In some odd way, you are a masterpiece. You’re sculpted of nothing but obloquy yet carved just like if you were made of stone. You would close your eyes if you thought you could get away with it.

But Marco likes when you watch. Savors the tremble of your lips as your eyes find him in the mirror. Pristine teeth glint in the pallid light. Perfectly white and straight. He always takes care of himself — of his appearance. It shows in the carefully carved muscles that flex in his abdomen as he pistons into you; in the well groomed locks of his dark hair. This is the sweetest liquor he could ever indulge in — enjoying not only destroying you, but of making a show of it. 

He must always be the performer and the audience; having his cake and eating it too. 

A fury of grunted whispers slice straight through your ear drums. It’s a hardly comprehensible slurring of English and Russian, and though your fuzzy brain can’t make sense of it, you know what it means. Marco teeters close to the edge, hands dragging your body back against him as he holds himself flush against the crux of your ass. Hot warmth spills into you, and despite the hand around your throat, you’re finally able to breathe. This impiety does not offer you comfort in your tainted skin, but it offers you the one commodity you rarely seem to come by: rest. 

That incessant ache lurks deep in the pit of your stomach, even as Marco pulls out, but it’s quiet. Doesn’t demand your attention. You feel the dull throb that harasses the raw tissue of your cunt, and you try not to wince as you feel his seed spill out. Chuckling, he releases your throat in favor of wrapping his fingers around your hair, bunching as much as he can into the palm of his hand. It’s overgrown. Messy and dead. But he refuses to allow you to cut it. 

Nothing about you gets to change without his permission — not even your appearance. 

“Look at you, my sweet little girl,” he coos. Sharp teeth nip at the side of your jaw and you wince. You’re surprised his mouth doesn’t unhinge; that he doesn’t shove you into his maw and swallow you whole. “So goddamn perfect. Can’t get enough of this pussy. Christ.” 

When Marco backs away, you swear your knees will give out. Without his puppeteering hands to hold you up and bend you to his desires, you’re nothing but mush. A disgusting mess of smeared eyeliner and dripping cum. You can hardly stomach the sight of your body in the mirror. Neck littered with faint teeth marks, body bare and on display — used and abused to his content. You’re abhorrent. A pathetic creature you can’t stand to behold. 

Marco’s belt clinks just as a knock rattles the door. Your heart thuds loud enough in your ears that it nearly drowns out the sound of his heavy footsteps crossing the glorified dressing room. You attempt to steady yourself as you back away from the mirror, but the straps of your heels dig into your toes. They’re the only article of clothing you’re allowed. Marco says he likes the way they make your legs look longer. Likes the angle it gives him when he bends you over to fuck you.

When you turn to face him, he’s already sitting on the loveseat shoved into the corner of the room. A fresh bottle of mead sits on the tray next to him, and he pours himself a generous amount before knocking it back for a sip. The soft amber liquid overflows and dribbles past his lips, soaking his bare chest. His verdant eyes find you as he collets the drink on the tips of his fingers, then sucks them clean one by one. 

“Didn’t you hear that knock? You have a guest,” he says, tilting his jaw toward the door. 

With each step you take, you feel Marco’s seed dribble down your legs. It makes a sticky mess between your thighs, and you know he wouldn’t have it any other way. This is how he marks you. How he makes sure everyone knows who you belong to before he lets them take a piece of you home. 

A stranger with a thick neck stands at the door when you open it. His eyes are an odd shade of grey that sends a shiver down your spine as he looks you over, greedily drinking in the sight of your bare body. The chill of his gaze gets worse as the door closes behind him. He begins to crowd you and the sharp stench of vodka fills your nose. There’s something familiar about him. Every man in this club is familiar to you, in some way. Always hazy. Too fuzzy to place a name to. You think it’s your brain’s way of protecting itself. Of purging the bad things done to you as best as it can, lest you crumble in the palm of Marco’s hands. 

The sharp point of your heel catches on the plush rug that sprawls out in front of Marco’s feet, and you squeak as you nearly lose your footing. Both Marco and the stranger chuckle. The cacophonous tone grates against your eardrums, but you hide your discomfort as you stare at the ground. You wait. For the exchange. For the banter. They speak in Russian with one another through laughter as cash is passed to Marco. The air is still cold, and your thighs are still soiled, but the stranger looks at you like he would never dream of having any other meal than you. 

“Well, go on then,” Marco prompts. You look up at him with dull eyes. He swirls the mead in his cup as he tilts his head. “On your knees, babe. Wants to use your mouth tonight. Be a good girl, now.” 

Comply. Listen. It’s all you can do. So you sink to your knees like the well behaved girl you always are. Resting on your haunches, you look up at the man with a tight throat. He smiles, and your stomach drops. Roils and screams as he begins to unbuckle his belt. As he fishes himself from his trousers, you remind yourself all things are temporary. Especially pain. 

Nothing lasts forever — though, it often feels like it will. 

When it’s all said and done — when you’re thoroughly used — Marco walks you to the door like a gentleman. Hastily adorned clothes hang from your body as you pull your jumper tight around your core. Your cervix still aches from the virulent abuse it had taken earlier, but you attempt to ignore it as he opens the exit. Your only reprieve from this nightmare is that he didn’t parade you throughout the club like this; looking like a whore for hire. Tonight, he allows you to take the back exit far away from prying eyes. 

Cool night air cuts through your scanty clothes, and you stare out at the vast space of the car park before you. Weekdays bring little business and customers to Makarov’s club. Most of the strippers who work for him end up lazing around in back rooms and closets, getting drunk or high enough that they can forget all about their shitty night. 

You wish you had that luxury. 

“Hey,” Marco hums, grabbing your wrist. You turn to face him. Dim shadows from the flickering hallway lights cast his face in darkness, but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

He sends you off with a kiss. Sloppy and wet — he likes messes. Savors making one out of you. Sweet mead and mint seeps into your mouth as you kiss him back with a tight jaw. When his hands caress your cheeks, pulling you closer, you wonder if he can taste the brine and bitter cum that lurks in the back of your throat. If he relishes in feeling every single way in which you’re destroyed. 

“See you tomorrow,” you murmur. 

Breathing only comes easy the moment you’re locked in your car. The movement is fluid — that gentle expanding of your chest — but it’s still agonizing. Diaphragm seizing with the sobs you fight back, it’s another reminder that you’re alive. As long as you draw breath, you don’t belong to yourself. 

Hot tears sear down your cheeks as you turn the key in the ignition. A gentle rumble follows as the engine hums to life. It’s a smooth, quiet purr. A car that’s much more expensive than you deserve. A lovely gift from Marco. It’s not at all uncommon for him to give you things. Expensive things. A car; an apartment; clothes — you’ll pay it back eventually. The numbers just add up to the big debt that’s hung over your head since you were sixteen. It ebbs and flows but not enough to save you. Not enough for you to belong to yourself again. 

As you bring the heels of your hands up to wipe your eyes, a gentle glow catches your attention. It moves. Dances and swirls in the numbra of the car park. Blinking, you focus on it. Golden yellow embers flicker and fade as life is breathed into them. It’s faint, but it reminds you of the well adored fireflies in America. Squinting, you can make out the outline of a car. It sits patiently and silent, but the windows are cracked. Faint smoke swirls through the openings where it climbs into the dull night sky and dissipates. 

Someone sits inside of the car, puffing away, but when your eyes lock onto the fingers pinching a cigarette, they freeze. Glowing embers quickly smother and die somewhere inside of the vehicle, and you’re left with nothing. You stare into the darkness, and it stares back. You feel its gaze tingling along your spine. Sniffing, you look away from that void. Be it man, or be it monster, you know nothing ever happens to you without Marco’s permission. 

That sentiment is equally as terrifying as it is comforting. 

When you arrive home — to the apartment paid for with your own body — you shower. No amount of water and soap is enough. You can lather yourself in all of Marco’s favorite scents, but the mint on his tongue still follows you everywhere. As you exit the bathroom, you leave feeling just as disgusting as when you entered. Nothing but some sordid creature that hardly knows how to take care of herself. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you feel sick. Golden glitter still stains your eyelids, and the teeth marks on the side of your throat have only grown more noticeable. Still, nothing is worse than the mark on the back of your neck. Though you can’t see it, you feel it. It makes your skin itch and crawl, and you find your fingernails tearing at it. As if you could rip it off like a bandaid. But it stays. Festers and embeds itself deep inside of you. 

Swallowing, you try to forget it as you continue to dry off. This is your brief moment of comfort, where you’re too far out of reach and well out of sight. Your only reprieve before you spend another night rotting as a trophy of glitter and bone. 

Weekends are better, but only marginally so. Wide eyed men fill Makarov’s club to the brim with wads of cash and twitchy fingers. Lingering gazes and hands brush against the crux of your ass and the back of your neck as Marco parades you through the crowd by your wrist. With your strappy golden heels and matching exiguous outfit, you’re flashy merchandise. Something soft and sweet he flaunts in an attempt to make a quick quid or two as a way to fund his means of pleasure and keeping control of you. While you’d normally spend most nights on your hands and knees, on busy nights, Marco allows you to earn your living in an honorable way —

— dancing. 

Sharp heels tap on soft mahogany as your hips and arms sway, practiced and repetitive, atop a round table. Dull music thrums and shakes the dust off your bones as the men on the crescent sofa surrounding you chat and laugh the night away. Marco’s in the mix of them all, cold glass resting on his knee as his foot taps against the floor. A hazy film covers the spring green of his irises as the liquor settles deep into his marrow. Each time you rotate his way, you watch his pupils dilate. A vast forest covered by the smokey darkness of that void, he licks at the alcohol on his lips as he stares at your clothed cunt. 

His fantasy fills your mind before his own can even make sense of it. Every spare glass and bottle that litters the table around your feet would be thrown on the floor in an instant just to put you on your back. To open your vulnerable stomach. To tear off the little clothing protecting your feeble dignity and truly put you to work. He’d spread your limbs and pin them like a specimen to a board, and he would cut and slice until you have nothing left to hide. Until there is nothing left of you at all. 

“Babe!” 

Marco’s voice cuts through the discordance of the crowd, and pulls you out of a nightmare and back into the present. Your terrifying reality. Slowly, you turn to face him, and he looks up at you with a grin on his face and a card stuck between his fingers. That sly haze still obscures his vision as he offers you his hand. Numb to the feeling of his skin against your own, you take it and allow him to help you down from the table. He wastes no time in dipping his fingers into the strap of your lingerie where he secures the card beneath the band. 

“Looks like you’ve got work to do,” he teases. 

Warm hands settle on the curve of your hips as he guides you to turn around, faced away from him. Then, they wander up. Greedy fingers brush along the line of your spine before they find purchase in your hair, grabbing it as if he were trying to help you put it up. You hate how long it’s gotten. That he won’t let you cut it. He doesn’t care if it’s straight, curly, braided — anything. Marco wants it long. Uses it like a leash in which he keeps you bound to him with. 

“I know you’re a good girl, so I’m sure you won’t forget, but a little reminder never hurts,” he coos into your ear. Intoxicated breath fans across the side of your face as he leans closer to breathe you in. A shiver prickles across your skin as he kisses the back of your neck, and your throat involuntarily contracts at the sensation. It’s as if he’s marking you again. Branding you. “If this… patron wants more, I get to watch.”

Swallowing, you nod as best as you can with his fist gripping your hair. “I know.” 

Chuckling, he relinquishes his grip on you before stepping back. “Of course you do, smart thing you are. I’ll be waiting here for you.” 

You wait until you’re well away from Marco and his friends before you fish out the card he stuck beneath the strap along your hip. A pitched ringing plagues your ears as you enter the VIP section of the club. Things are quieter. Less crowded and the speakers don’t blare as loud. But the silence allows something malevolent to burrow inside of you. It festers as incessant tinnitus and broiling nervosity in your stomach. A wordless, desperate prayer breathes past your lips as you approach the room in which your patron awaits you. 

You pray he is kind. You pray that he wants nothing more than to hold you and vent his problems, like others have. 

When you open the door and step into the threshold that always makes your palms sweat, you think for a single fleeting moment that you are lucky. The room is abandoned. Dim lights illuminate the dull leather of the couch in front of you and yet there is no man sitting there for you to serve. Gentle music drones over the wireless speakers, giving the impression that there should be someone here with you. The attendants even set out the ice and whiskey for his drink. It now thaws on the tray, water nearly overspilling in its decay. 

Brows furrowing together, you look down at the card to ensure you haven’t misread it in your haze. The attendant’s handwriting is chicken scratch. He always manages to make a nine look like a zero, but you’re certain this is a six. The door clicks shut behind you as you sigh, too defeated and confused to make sense of this confusion. A pit forms in your stomach at the thought of slinking back to Marco with some saturnine cloud hanging over your head. 

If you can’t find work tonight, he’ll make some for you. 

That pit quickly becomes a gaping hole the moment a fat palmed hand clasps over your mouth. Cardstock flutters out of your fingers like dainty butterfly wings, and hits the ground just as your back collides with an immovable chest. You don’t scream, but your heart nearly stops when you feel the cold press of metal against your throat. You are stuck in a vicious cycle. One of fear and sharp blades you’ll never wield yourself. 

“Not a fuckin’ word.” The voice that growls in your ear rattles your spine as the words erupt in his chest. Faint tobacco stains his fingers. Its earthy aroma seeps into your nose as your hands tremble against his tattooed forearm. “Don’t wanna hurt ya, so make this easy and listen to me, yeah?” 

Marco has taught you plenty well enough that the word no should be expunged from your vocabulary, so you nod. 

“Good.” 

You’re as stiff as a board when this stranger releases you. No amount of curiosity can get you to turn around and face the violent truth, not even as a thick jacket is tossed over your shoulders. The fabric is warm. Freshly removed off of the man behind you and placed on you as if it were a blanket. He presses his hand on your lower back and despite his caution, you still jump. 

“We’re going for a quick drive. Easy now. You’ll be home before sun up. C’mon,” he mutters. 

There is no such thing as saying no. There is no such thing as fighting. 

The knife vanishes from your sight but it’s all you can think about as this stranger leads you through the haze of the club. Everything blurs around you as you’re escorted to the nearest exit through quiet hallways that reek of cheap perfume. The only thing you can focus on is your feet. The glittery heels that match perfectly with your pedicure. You want to trip. To fall forward and hit the ground. Cry out and demand attention. The hand on the small of your back is all too grounding for you to make any mistakes. 

You approach and exit through an emergency fire door and the alarm doesn’t trip. Night air hits your skin like razor blades as you’re escorted across the car park. He shoves you into the back of a black car, and you only squeal a little when he slams the door behind you. When he situates himself in the driver's seat, the car hums to life and quiet lights flicker on just enough to scarcely illuminate his face in the rearview mirror. His eyes are dark. The darkest you’ve ever seen. 

“There’s a blindfold in the seat next to you. Put it on,” he orders. Stuck on autopilot, you do as he says. It’s a thick scrap of cloth, something you hastily tie around your eyes and knot at the back of your head with trembling fingers. It only touches your skin for a fleeting moment before it’s soaked in briney tears. “Don’t even think ‘bout takin’ it off.” 

Not even your morbid curiosity can convince you to peek from between the threads. The word no is not in your vocabulary. Neither is disobeyment. 

Each turn the man takes as he brings you to some unknown destination has you swaying in your seat. Every pule that leaves your lips is smothered behind the palm of your hand as you wipe snot along the ridges of your knuckles. You do well to keep the aftermath of your fear to yourself. Even though this man has abducted you — something that was all too easy for him to do as you fawned. You’ll surely pay for this when Marco finds you again — you do not want to ruin the coat around your shoulders with spit. 

Of course you think of escape. You always do. It’s a self soothing daydream that florescences in the neurons of your brain. Unlock the door. Open the handle. Jump out. It’ll hurt. It always does. And it’ll hurt when you’re caught, but it always does. 

You don’t move. Freedom is just a dream.

Despite the knife he greeted you with, this man is surprisingly gentle. His touch is soft when he eventually parks the car, and his fingers do not dig too terribly into your skin as he helps free you from the back seat of his car. You do not trust his softness as he leads you into a room that smells like alcohol and cigarettes. Nicotine burns your nose as you’re settled into a plush seat, and for a fleeting moment you think you were only driven around the block before being thrown right back into Marco’s maw. 

That theory is proven terribly wrong when your blindfold is ripped from your eyes. 

A man with impressive tepidity sits across an antique wooden desk. Rich red walls close in on you. Crushing. Looming. Smoke blurs the space between the two of you as he puffs away at a thick cigar, blue eyes scanning a single piece of paper. He’s dressed nicer than you anticipated. A dark button up shirt, neatly combed hair and groomed beard — he hums to himself as his eyes scan the page in front of him before they land on you. You look away as if his gaze has burnt you. Instead, you focus on your nails and the manicure Marco made you get last week. Baby pink gel; his favorite color on you. 

“It’ll take more than crocodile tears to tug on my heartstrings, love,” he hums. 

The climate in your mouth suddenly becomes sere. All the snot and saliva that had built up before seems to vanish at his words. He’s nonchalant; terrifyingly so. 

“I don’t… uhm,” you attempt. 

“No need to explain yourself,” he interjects. “I understand. We all need to make a living.” Pausing, his eyes flicker back to the paper in his hands. “You’re Marco’s girl, aren’t you?” 

Thick obloquy heats the pit of your stomach as your fingers twitch. That term — that title. It fills you with more shame than you can name. You attempt to swallow down the cotton-like dryness in your mouth as your hand paws at the back of your neck. Expertly manicured nails scratch at the skin, and you wish nothing more than to peel back the layers of your epidermis and toss them aside to rot. 

Stiff, you nod. 

“John Price,” he introduces. 

He drops the name like it bears weight. As if it should crush you with each heavy letter that it carries, yet it doesn’t add on to the anxiety raging in your stomach. Your hand falls back into your lap as you dare to look at him once more. His eyes are sharp, as if he’s using his gaze alone to cut back your layers, but there is nothing to show for it. No secret except for a sour ignominy that you’ve carried for so long it imprints in your very skin. 

“Has Marco not told you about me?” he asks. He’s not upset; or if he is, he hides it well behind curious eyes. 

“No,” you answer truthfully. 

John chuckles. “Thought the man would’ve at least told his benefactor about me.” 

You blink. “...Benefactor?” 

“No need to play dumb. Like I said, it takes a lot more than faux tears to get me to feel sorry for you.” 

Your fear and confusion grips you so relentlessly that you don’t even feel it anymore. It’s wound so tightly around you, restricting blood flow to your body, that everything tingles if it is not numb. This man — John Price — gives you no chance to rest or fix your muddled thoughts. He tosses the paper in his hands across the wooden top of the desk, and your eyes nearly cross at the numbers printed on the pristine sheet and the amount of commas between them. There’s math. Addition and subtraction. Transactions of a bank account with a name at the top: 

Marco Anatolijus Smirnova

Funny. You’ve never seen his full name before. He’s only ever been Marco.

You’ve only ever been his girl. 

While you stare at the numbers, John throws question after question at you, none of which you know how to answer. He asks about transactions. He asks about what they’re for. Each and every time he’s met with the same answer. You are just as clueless as him. Marco does not concern you with his real work. The work that gets him enough money to have a bank account as padded as the one you’re looking at currently. 

His finances make the sparse contents of your stomach curdle. The amount of money you owe him for your unfortunate existence is trivial compared to what he already has. So minuscule it would hardly budge his savings. Marco has been making you work half your life away for something akin to a mere couple quid to him, and it stings just as bad as it always does. Seeing it at face value just how trapped you are — how Marco owns you and always will. 

“Don’t get coy with me.” John’s getting frustrated. Each question he presents you with is met with the same carking response of I don’t know. It’s nothing but the truth, but he seems to be informed otherwise. You’re significantly less important than he believes you to be, but the man looming behind you doesn’t help in settling your nerves enough to explain your situation properly. “Word on the street is Marco’s girl supplies him with his spending money. You’re tellin’ me I heard wrong? Or are you too daft to ask him what he’s using his finances on?” 

You swallow. What a polite way to put it — the things Marco does to you. 

“He… He makes money off of me but I… I don’t know how much or what he uses it for,” you choke out. “Well, I… I know a little bit but it’s not, it’s not like, whatever you’re asking, it’s just… it’s stupid things, it’s like, my housing or… it’s not… important.” 

There’s a quiet beat that settles between you and John, and you feel whatever vexation he harbored for you previously quickly evaporate in the air. He’s silent for so long that you force yourself to look up at him. You’re expecting curiosity, even the most morbid of iterations. John Price is not curious. You can tell by the way his jaw unclenches and eyes soften that he finally understands what you’ve been too inept to say. 

“How long have you been workin’ for him?” he questions, softer this time. 

“Since… I was sixteen,” you reply. 

“Sixteen?” He’s appalled. Repeats the word like it’s the worst taste he’s ever had on his tongue. “What’s he making you do for work? Dance?” 

Shame sears the back of your neck, leaving nothing but wounded, marked skin in its wake. You palm at the burn. Try to will it away with desperate fingers, and the movement causes the coat resting limply around your body to slip off your shoulder. This is the first time you’ve considered lying to John. Omitting the truth just to save the small shred of dignity you still have left, no matter how imaginary it might be. 

“Yeah. I… dance on stage but he… has me do private sessions too but he… sometimes he-” 

A hand brushes against the side of your arm and you flinch so hard your teeth nearly pierce through your tongue. Weathered wood squeaks beneath your weight as you freeze after nearly jumping out of your skin. This well meaning hand that startled you so terribly is well meaning. It pauses in its endeavor to cover your body once again with this stranger's coat, and instead lets it fall. You had almost forgotten all about him — the strange man who stole away Marco’s favorite toy from right under his nose. 

John and the stranger share a look as you retreat back into yourself. Hands folded over your bare lap, you didn’t feel naked until they finally understood who you are — what you are. Pristine nails dig into your palms as you swallow back the bilious vomit that threatens to spew free. 

“If we take you home, will you be safe there?” His eyes land back on you, but you can’t bring yourself to give him the same courtesy. 

You shake your head. “He’s going to be so mad. He… he pays for my apartment. I don’t have any money of my own. I don’t have a phone. I… There’s nothing. I have nothing. Marco’s provided everything for me and I never… he never gave me the chance to…” 

“I understand,” John interjects, carefully quelling your rambling. He waits for a moment before leaning back in his chair, retracting every bit of malice he exuded while interrogating you. “I’m sorry, love. Should’ve done our research better.” 

“It’s okay… Marco didn’t leave much of me to find.” 

John’s eyes darken in a way that would leave most men with their tail tucked between their legs. You’re too busy making yourself small to notice. “We’ll fix that.” 

In the next few hours, your life changes drastically. It’s sudden and feels just as violent as everything always does, yet it is intimidatingly soft. The gazes that are cast your way scream pity instead of lust, and you are handled with so much care you’re convinced you’ve become nothing more than a tchotchke. At least these men treat you with fragility rather than flippancy. 

You learn the man who took you from Makarov’s club is named Riley. You’re able to get a better look at him without the blindfold and terror willing your vision elsewhere. He’s intimidating. Arms drenched in ink, it’s almost enough to smother the scars that map the story around his body. It can’t shroud the ones on his face. The thin line that dissects his eyebrow, or the one on his nose which only makes the curve of the bridge more dramatic. His eyes are darker than anything you’ve ever seen before — so empty and yet full at the same time; nothing but a contradiction as he watches you pull his coat tighter around your shoulders. 

It is decided that — for your safety — you are to live with Riley until it is determined you are out of Marco’s reach. 

Despite your apprehension, you can’t say no. 

Riley’s house feels like a den. Well guarded but comfortable, the plush cushions that cradle you on the couch feel false. Fake. Everything does, but it’s mostly you. Your hair. Your clothes. Your skin. Nothing about you is tangible, not even to yourself. 

You’re still swaddled in Riley’s coat by the time he tells you that your room is ready. Really, it’s his room. You want to tell him you’d rather sleep on the couch than in some stranger’s bed, but you can hardly bring yourself to speak a single word to him. He scares you, but not in the way people usually do. It’s not the fear of pain that he riles within you, but rather something light. Something that flickers and sputters, waiting to grow. You smother it as he hands you proper clothes to change into. You don’t know where he got them from or why they fit so well, and you don’t care to ask. 

His room is… what you expected of a man like him. Plain walls, sturdy wardrobe and bed. A wristwatch ticks on the nightstand. It laments quietly, so much so that you only notice it when you sink into the mattress. He’s changed the sheets and pillowcases for you, but it’s not enough to snuff out the faint scent of tobacco. You like it, you decide. Or rather, you don’t mind it. Grounding earthy notes are much better than the synthetic chemicals Marco soaks himself in. 

Sleep comes about as easy as you expect it to. A TV drones on quietly in the living room as you toss and turn among unfamiliar sheets. Dull anxiety claws within the cage of your chest, but it holds itself at bay better than you anticipated. Or rather, you are just too numb to fully appreciate the pain. You should be afraid. You know it, and it’s lurking there even if you can’t fully feel it yet. 

It manifests suddenly as you feel the ghost of Marco’s hands on you. His teeth digging into your skin, demanding flesh. He wets his maw with your blood just as he wets his cock with your cunt. It sears. Rips through you in the brutal way it always does. Raw. Sinew on bone. And you don’t cry because it’s what he wants. He wants that brine and that sapor and he’ll claim it with claws and a smile. 

His mantra pants. It sweats and drips. It’s wet on your ear. 

There’s no escaping him.

You wake just after the sun does, and it is only then that you cry. 

Grief is the quintessence of escape. You’ve crossed the threshold — you were dragged beyond it — and now there’s no way back to the way things were. Your life wasn’t good, and it was far from comfortable, but it was familiar. You only know how to navigate things when bound. Chained to an unforgiving master. How are you supposed to live with free hands? 

What happens when Marco yanks your leash and finds no tension? 

What becomes of his favorite toy — Marco’s girl — then? 

By the time you finally gather the courage to leave the room, you find Riley in the kitchen. It’s what drew you out of your hiding spot originally; that scent of freshly cooked food. Sizzling meat and steaming eggs. He works at the stove with his back turned to you, arms dancing above the heat as he fries up a breakfast that should make your mouth water, yet it fails to do so. 

“Morning.” He hears you before he sees you, but he pauses with a spatula in hand to look at you from over his shoulder. He gestures to the island in front of you — something you suspect was only built to compensate for the lack of counter space on either side of the stove — then hums to himself as he turns his attention back to his work. “Breakfast’ll be finished soon, if ya wanna grab a seat.” 

There’s a stiffness that plagues your limbs as you sit on the high top chair Riley pointed to. It rolls off you in waves. Taints the air; souring it with your presence. You are not comfortable in this place — with this man. His palm haunts the chapped skin of your lips the same way his chest haunts your back and you can’t help but wonder what he and John would have done to you had they deemed you guilty. If they had looked at Marco’s girl and saw an opportunity rather than a pitiful creature, would you be sitting here now? 

Breakfast is a quiet affair of scraping plates and muffled chewing. Riley doesn’t sit next to you. Rather, he stands on the other side of the counter with a bowed head as he shovels egg and bacon into his mouth as if he’ll starve if not. He tries to rest his elbows on the counter, but it’s too low. It curves his spine uncomfortably, and he shifts as if standing on hot coals. 

Hunger does not pull at your stomach. Nervosity fills you to the brim — too full to consume something other than the ache. 

“I’m sorry ‘bout last night.” Riley’s nearly finished with his food by the time he speaks, prompting you to look up at him for the first time since you sat down. All you’ve managed to do for the last few minutes is drag the tip of your fork around your scrambled eggs. “Boys really thought you were dangerous. That you were workin’ with Makarov and Marco. Shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” 

Dull teeth dig into the wet flesh inside your cheeks. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” Riley argues adamantly. “But I am sorry.” 

It’s difficult to discern the purpose of his apology. Is it to make himself feel better for what he did? For dragging you out of that club and into John Price’s office? To interrogate you until your innocence was proven? Does he say sorry to comfort himself, or you? To prove he’s not as monstrous as he looks with dark eyes and tight lips. He is, after all, awfully kind for a monster. You have yet to meet a beast that knows how to apologize without digging their teeth into you afterwards. 

Perhaps his apology is truly for you. To settle fried nerves. To make you feel safe. 

You know better than that. 

You were safer in the clutches of Marco’s jaw than you are now. 

“Riley, can… can I ask something?” 

A cheeky remark bubbles along his tongue. You just did. He takes one look at you and decides to bite it back. “Course.” 

A noisome lurch pulls at your stomach, embittering the sparse bites of food you were able to force down your throat. Thunder roars in your chest as your heart attempts to break free — leave your body behind to rot while it escapes. 

“Would I… Could I get the pill?” you ask. 

“The pill?” he repeats. 

“Yeah, like… the… the morning after pill?” 

His silence doesn’t surprise you, but it stretches long enough to be concerning. Looking up from your cold food, you’re met with soft eyes. They’re the softest ones that have looked at you for what feels like ages. Gentle. They don’t greedily rake over your body to soak in every twitch of your skin — rather, he reads you. Between the lines and and in the margins, he devours every word. 

For the first time in your life he makes you feel more like a victim than a toy, and you’re not sure if that feels any better. 

“Will you be alright by yourself if I go buy it for you?” he asks. There’s no judgment; only pity. 

You nod. 

Riley mulls it over as his tongue swipes along the back of his teeth. When he straightens, he brings his plate with him as he steps back and hums. Your attention is quickly brought back to your hands as he sets the dish in the sink to be cleaned later. 

“Alright.” You try not to choke as he motions to your plate. “Should eat. I’ll be back soon, yeah?” 

Once again, you nod. “Okay.” 

Not a single morsel has been consumed off of your plate by the time Riley returns home, and you are not in your seat. Disappointment buzzes at the base of his skull, but he’s not surprised. He knows what it’s like to be too full to eat — to be plagued with something not even hunger can triumph. He sets aside the pill box to clean up after you. Food in the bin. Plate in the sink to be washed later. 

It’s quiet. It’s never this quiet. Not even when he’s home by himself, which he usually is. Riley stands in the kitchen with furrowed brows as he looks around the room like he’s misplaced something. His keys. His lighter. 

God, he could use a smoke. 

Heavy feet cause old wood to creak as he pokes his head into the bedroom. An imprint of your body still dips into the mattress from this morning, but it’s gone cold. He was going to stay politely stationed in the doorway until the thought flickers across his mind that you’ve left. Got too scared of the brute whose home you’re trapped in and ran off. Away. Hiding from the world — from Marco. 

There’s little reprieve to be found when he notices the light shining through the crack of the bathroom door, but it’s smothered the moment he hears you crying. They’re pathetic, stifled pules. Ones you attempt to desperately hide, yet they bleed out of you anyway. He wants to leave you alone, to let your emotions wash over you, but he can’t. 

Even with your crying, the house is too quiet. 

“Everythin’ alright?” 

Both his voice and knock startle you, and your sobbing swells. Breathing out of control, he can hear you choke on the snot flowing through your sinuses. You’re panicked, and he realizes that this is more than grief. More than anxiety. More than fear. 

You’re terrified. 

You’re standing in the bathtub like a scared cat when Riley opens the door. Tears stream down your face. Relentless. They nearly glisten as bright as the kitchen knife in your hand. 

You told yourself it would be easier for him to clean up the mess of your corpse if you killed yourself in the bathtub. Blood festers and rots in the smallest of crevices, but there’s none of that to be found in the ceramic that surrounds you. However, you’re having trouble getting any blood to flow at all. You’re not sure if it’s you or the knife, but you’re hardly able to break the skin on your wrists. The crimson blood that flows through your minor cuts feels trivial. There needs to be more. 

It’s not enough. You’re scared that you might have to stab yourself. Spill your guts in the tub. Witness your offals for yourself before you fade away. Something. You want to die, but you don’t want it to hurt. 

You don’t want it to hurt, but you need to leave. 

“Hey. Hey, easy now.” Riley feels as if he’s talking to an animal. Some feral cat poised to bite and scratch if he’s not cautious. He approaches you with his palms faced out in surrender, and the walls around you seem to close in. “You don’t wanna do this sweetheart. Give me the knife.” 

“You don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t do this. You-You don’t know what he’ll do to me. Marco he... It’s- I- fuck, I can’t. I can’t do this, please just let me do this.” 

Each word is muffled. So far from your ears that it hardly reaches you. Still, they spew along with your cries. It doesn’t deter Riley from closing in on you. Swallowing the spit building on your tongue, you hold the knife with both hands. A simple kitchen blade, now brandished like a weapon. It’s nearly laughable. You couldn’t even kill yourself. How can you expect to hurt him? 

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it okay, but I can’t do that if you’re not here.” His words feel stupid in his mouth, but he knows he has to try something. “Please. Give me the knife. I don’t wanna hurt you. Hey, give- fuck.” 

There’s a lunge. Grabbing. Blade on skin. Blood on tile. 

Riley meant it when he said he didn’t want to hurt you, but you still cry out as he yanks you out of the tub. Once again, your back is against his chest. You are enveloped by him as the two of you sink onto the bathroom floor, held down by his weight, and it is then that you truly can no longer hold yourself together. Vision darkening, chest ceasing; you panic. It rips through you with shaking hands and writhing legs, causing your feet to kick at the dull kitchen knife at your feet. 

For a moment, you are lost. Consumed by overwhelming grief and fear, and still Riley holds you through it all. You feel his heart beating against your spine, feel the exhale of his lungs dance on the top of your head. It’s a flicker in the darkness. In the primal fear of knowing you are still somehow chained to the man who has abused you for countless years. 

Dread transcends physical space. Marco planted it inside of you the first time his lips found the quiver in your throat. 

“Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got ya.” 

Riley’s voice fades in like radio static. Disconnected and muffled, yet growing evermore clear. Then, it hits all at once. The slight sting of your wrists and the ache in your leg. Did you trip? You feel the growing bruise pulse and throb on your shin, and another one in your hip. It’s hardly bearable, but neither of them are as uncomfortable as the warm, sticky mess seeping into your shirt. 

It takes several seconds for you to realize it’s blood. 

“There, good. It’s alright,” Riley whispers. His voice is thick — heavy enough to make your stomach sink. 

“Am- Am I bleeding?” you stutter. 

“No, you’re alright. Don’t worry ‘bout the blood.” 

But you do. You worry about it because you don’t want it to hurt, you don’t even think you want to die anymore — you just want it gone. For it to dissolve around you, or for you to waste away into dust. Your chin rests against your chest as you look for the source, scouring your own body for the wound. Your wrists, your arms your legs —

— the wound is on Riley. 

Blood gushes through a gash on the top of his forearm, obscuring your view of the damage. It’s just as steady as every stream you ever used to jump over as a child. It slices through the meticulously crafted ink that graces his skin, and you feel as if you’ve cut through the canvas of a painting. Ruined something good. Something more useful than yourself. More than that, you hurt him. 

“Oh my god, your arm,” you gasp. 

“It’s nothing,” Riley attempts to assure. 

“There’s so much blood, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s nothing,” he reiterates. “Just a cat scratch, sweetheart.” 

His cat scratch takes twenty minutes to patch up. You count the time on the ticking of his wristwatch as you lay in his bed. Body too weak and afflicted with malaise to make something of yourself, you stare at the ceiling as you listen to him hiss and grunt. It’s the blood, you’re sure. Despite the flow, he manages to smother it to nothing more than a scab beneath pristine dressings. 

It takes him another ten minutes to clean you up. He assesses the wounds you left on yourself — shallow horizontal cuts along the delicate skin of your wrists. You stare at them as he cleans and bandages them, and you tell yourself the sting from the antiseptic is what makes your eyes water. 

You’ve created a mess for nothing, and Riley is the one paying for it. 

“There.” He secures the last piece of tape on the gauze. It feels unnecessary. Band-aids would have sufficed, and you tried to tell him as much only for him to mutter something about infections. “Not too tight?” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” 

Content, he hums as he steps away from the bed, gathering up items off of the nightstand. You watch as his fingers swallow rolls of tape, forearm flexing beneath his own dressings. Teeth digging into your bottom lip, your heart lurches, as the guilt pierces through you like a blade. You’re not sure why it lurks. Is it because you hurt him? Because you tried to leave a corpse for him to come home to? 

“I’ll get you some water. Ought to take that pill sooner rather than later,” Riley says, turning to leave the room. 

He only makes it a few steps before you stop him. “I lied.” 

Pausing, his eyes find you with more confusion than you expected. “Yeah?” 

“I lied about… needing the pill. I just said it so you would leave,” you admit. You push yourself up from the bed, legs swinging over the side of the mattress to sit and properly look at him. “When… I first… Marco used to make me take birth control. Like, the actual pills. I got pregnant anyway. Made me get the IUD after that. It’s more effective, so I don’t think I’ll really need it. I mean, I’ve never needed it before, so…” 

Listening, Riley nods as you bare the raw parts of yourself. It’s impossible to share without that warble in your tone — that pain that always leaks into your voice — but in some strange way, it feels good. Refreshing. You’re airing out an old, festering wound that hasn’t ever seen the light of day. 

“You got a kid to take care of? If they’re with Marco-” 

“No,” you interrupt. Riley’s words die on his tongue. “No, he… he made me get an abortion, too. It’s for the best, really. Kids shouldn’t be around that monster anyway.” 

Again, he nods. The house feels loud. Every inch of the four walls around you seems to buzz with an energy you’re not privy to. 

“Well, some water wouldn’t hurt. Food wouldn’t either, since you never finished breakfast,” he continues as he turns. “Want anything specific?” 

He’s so… casual. Nonchalant despite the trauma you subjected him to. He should be angry with you. Furious at having made a mess; at having hurt him. His entire life was turned upside down the very same moment yours was — he should hate you for it, but he doesn’t. 

“Whatever’s easiest.” The floorboards are loose by the door. They squeak as he crosses the threshold, and you feel your stomach lurch. “Riley?” 

Pausing, he turns on his heel as his head pokes back into the room. “Yeah?” 

So calm. So patient. 

“Thank you. For everything. I just… Thank you, Riley,” you choke. 

For the first time since he caught you in that club, he smiles; small and kind. 

“Just Simon to you, yeah?”

follow @daughterofcore for updates/notifs

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝙎𝙖-𝙏𝙤-𝙍𝙪

CHARACTER— yandere!gojo x fem!reader CONTENTS— yandere themes, stalking, hidden camera bear thingy, slight angst? IDKK gojo is just gross asf, noncon, intoxicated!reader, worshipping kink, DELUSIONALL‼️‼️‼️, slight fingering idk, sex yuh A/N— enjoy this masterpiece I wrote months ago (I no longer have the ability to write as good as I did) kinda weird but I literally had this dream a few days ago of a guy kidnapping me and bruising my ass with his initials 💀💀 scary asf and I remembered it hurts like a bitch anyway I have an exam later on so wish me luck 🤩 (repost)

The lustre of his eyes glimmered against the reflection of the screen, his face turning rubicund was evidence of the blood rushing underneath his cheeks. Sweat flecked across his palms, marginally soiling his pants when he rubbed his hands on them.

Your eyes stared straight into his, and he thought your orbs must be of millions of blended colours for them to glint in iridescent. The sliver of rays from the screen pierced his irises, and he swore the sight of you must be cleansing his soul.

He sucked his lips as you played with the toy bunny’s hands, and a smile reached your face before you pressed the soft toy into your chest, clutching it in your arms as you sighed something. Something that started with Sa and ended with Ru. His mind must be playing tricks on him, right? It couldn’t be that—

Then there it comes again, the cadence of your voice, the shape of your lips, and his name that you whispered. Sa-To-Ru.

The Sa whose eyes would only trail behind your wake, the To that breathed just for the air that you exhaled, and the Ru that didn’t believe God lives in heaven, because there was you, his Goddess that walked the Earth amongst the sinful humanity.

Satoru. He thought he had never loved his name even more than that moment.

But he found himself wrong—oh so wrong.

You sounded even more euphonious sprawled out before him, intoxicated with alcohol on your tongue and in your veins—not a clue about where you are and what’s going on. All you could gather was the familiar mop of silver in your foggy sight, and how the world seemed to be on vertigo.

The bits and pieces of recollections you could grasp onto in your besotted state were the hours spent drinking bottles of liquor, giggling at the charming jokes and teases from Gojo. Then the clashes of teeth and his hands on your chest, the long ride up an elevator, and stumbling onto a bed that smelled like him.

“My name…” he panted when his head rose from your jugular—marked and claimed through teeth and tongue. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressing his lips against your jaw as he took in a drag of your ambrosial scent, long fingers pumping in and out of your squeezing cunt.

You frowned, moaning into the torrid air that bubbled around the two of you and arching your back when an orgasm tumbled through, warmth pervading through your core when pleasure glitched over your body like static.

His name doesn’t read past your lips, but your groan of pleasure was enough for him to render him halcyon. Lining his painfully pulsing head to your slick entrance, the dilatory push of his fat tip into your folds made a cry ripple through both of your throats. In you he found warmth that tasted like divinity; the forbidden fruit between the thighs of his Goddess.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that your grip would tempt an orgasm in him to soil your quim with his load. His thumb drew circles upon your clit, trying to mitigate the tight clench of your cunt in the wake of your previous orgasm.

Your muscles finally relaxed in a few rubs, and he let his length ease into you, your hole still pulsing and spasming as his cock filled your insides. Gojo’s chest fluttered with rapture as he groaned for your name, almost as if he was trying to have you look at him, fully sober instead of laying crumpled on his bed.

But you don’t, your eyes remained still shut, and only the little whimpers and cries that fell off the edges of your lips denoted your senses still awake yet torpor from the inebriation.

“Please, look at me?”

You groaned when he benignly lifted your jaw, his sense of deify for you felt through his cold fingertips before his lips meld into yours. Your mouth lax open, letting his tongue taste the heaven off of yours and swallow your saliva of ambrosia down his throat.

When he withdrew from your face with a dense cloud over your heads, he found the hues of your orbs peering into his summer’s blue sky, your eyelashes fanning the heat over his cheeks. His heart jumped and paced, and he was sure you could hear his heartbeat. Could you?

“Satoru…?” you whispered. The tang of liquor blazing strongly in your system, but you still managed to recognise him. “Wha–Where are we? And wha—”

You were cut off from your words when his lips crashed into yours, and his hips began pistoning in and out of you, your moans jumbled between your dancing mouths before sizzling in the hot air. Your walls tightened around his girth as he pumped deep into you, his cock throbbing and threatening ejaculation, but he would rather abnegate himself from pleasure if you hadn’t succumbed to it.

Every stroke of his swollen head against the bump of your g-spot made you gasp and cry with the stimulation, palms desperately attempting to push the weight of the male off, but it simply came to piteous futility.

At his last stroke, your squirting cunt squeezed his cock tight and wet his pelvis, and his load began filling your inside to the brim, thick spurts of cum shooting at your cervix as you screamed his name.

The Sa who you could taste on your tongue, the To who swore you’re the lone fire to his loins, and the Ru who promised to never let your divinity step a single foot out of his door—your temple, to walk the earth soiled by sinning humans.

Satoru—the priest to your Holiness.

[drvscarlett]

The Tortured Drivers' Department

— combining another one of my favorites. I'll be taking notes and writing fics about which TTPD song do I associate with the drivers ( + I will be including the retired ones). This is the main list and I'll be linking them when I finished writing them. Let me know if you wanna be tagged

Also give TTPD a listen. Its so beautiful and a masterpiece

Fortnight

— i love you, its ruining my life (Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes!reader)

The Tortured Poets Department 

— At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding (Pierre Gasly x ex!reader)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys 

— 'Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart left all these broken parts (Lando Norris x reader)

Down Bad

— Fuck it if I can't have him (Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader)

So Long, London

— You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? (George Russell x secret girlfriend! reader)

But Daddy I Love Him

— "I'm having his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces (Alex Albon x Horner!reader)

Fresh Out the Slammer

— Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you (Esteban Ocon x childhood bestfriend!reader)

Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the Machine) 

—I need to forget, so take me to Florida (Logan Sargeant x heiress!reader)

Guilty as Sin?

—What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? (Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

— I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean (Nico Rosberg x Lewis Hamilton)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

— they shake their heads, saying, "God help her" when I tell 'em he's my man (Daniel Ricciardo x longtime girlfriend!reader)

loml

— Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye. The coward claimed he was a lion (Max Verstappen x childhood sweetheart!reader)

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart 

— Lights, camera, bitch, smile (Zhou Guanyu x model!reader)

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

— And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive (Yuki Tsunoda x Actress!reader)

The Alchemy

—'Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me (Kimi Räikkönen x assistant!reader)

Clara Bow

— This town is fake, but you're the real thing (Sebastian Vettel x Ferrari heir!reader)

The Black Dog

— I am someone who, until recent events you shared your secrets with (Mick Schumacher x driver!reader

imgonnagetyouback

— I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch (Fernando Alonso x wife!reader)

The Albatross

— She's the albatross, she is here to destroy you (Jenson Button x revenger!reader)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

—So if I sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon? (Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!reader)

How Did It End?

— The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling (Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri)

So High School

—You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her (Charles Leclerc x reader ft Max Verstappen x childhood friend!reader)

I Hate It Here

—I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (Kimi Räikkönen x interviewer! reader)

thanK you aIMee

— And then she wrote headlines in the local paper laughing at each baby step I'd take (Mark Webber x reader)

I Look in People’s Windows

—What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time (Sebastian Vettel x reader)

The Prophecy

—Don't want money, just someone who wants my company (Pierre Gasly x politician's daughter!reader)

Cassandra

—So they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst (Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader)

Peter

— Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine (Lando Norris x reader)

The Bolter

— "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" (Max Verstappen x hollywood starlet!reader)

Robin

— You have no room in your dreams for regrets (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend!reader)

The Manuscript

—One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then I re-read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore (Carlos Sainz x McLaren employee!reader)

[wickjump]

Please? 🥺

omg you all really do love me.... (theres another ask but i hit the 30 image limit so pretend theres another one here sorry). this is gonna be all over the place cause im like that. if this gets over 100 notes ill make a cross shrine in my room

OK!!!!!!! CROSS SANS TIME....

GRGRGRHRHRHHRN OKAY FIRST OF ALL. FROM AN OBJECTIVE STANDPOINT HE WAS MONUMENTAL TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THIS FANDOM. HE IS PART OF LITERALLY THE FANDOMS BIGGEST PROJECT(S) (UNDERVERSE AND XTALE THE SERIES). HIS EXISTENCE IS LITERALLY THE REASON THIS FANDOM HAS THRIVED FOR SO LONG AFTER SO MANY YEARS. UNDERVERSE IS KEY TO THE FANDOMS SURVIVAL AND CROSS IS A CORE PART OF IT.

HIS STORY IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE. YEAH I MIGHT BE BIASED BUT SHUT UP. HIS STORY BROUGHT TOGETHER A LOT OF THE FANDOMS IDEAS IN A VISUAL SENSE LIKE NEVER BEFORE. HE EXISTS IN A WORLD THAT IS SO FAR FROM UNDERTALE YET NOT FAR ENOUGH TO BE LIKE DREAMTALE. HE HELPED ESTABLISH THE UNDERTALE MULTIVERSE AS A WHOLE. HE IS A PRODUCT OF A WORLD MADE BY A MEGALOMANIAC (get it) THAT HAS GONE THROUGH TEN WHOLE REBIRTHS. THOUGH HE WASNT A CORE PART OF IT UNTIL THE END OF TIMELINE X, HE ALSO PLAYED A SIGNIFICANT PART IN TIMELINE 2 WHERE HE AND FRISK DEVELOPED THEIR FIRST FRIENDSHIP WITH EACH OTHER AND THEN HE DIED AND AND. CROSS IS SO FAR FROM WHO HE WAS IN EVERY PAST REBIRTH. TIMELINE 1 IS JUST A COPY PASTE OF SANS. TIMELINE 2 IS SOME WEIRD AMALGAMATION OF SANS AND SWAP. TIMELINE 9 (I FORGOT THE ROMAN NUMERAL) STRAYS MORE TOWARDS CLASSIC SANS THAN NOT. AND TIMELINE X HE IS FULL SWAP. AND THAT MUST BE FUCKING WILD TO EXPERIENCE BECAUSE WHILE HE DIDNT GET THE MEMORIES OF PREVIOUS TIMELINES LIKE THE OTHER AU INHABITANTS DID HE FOUND OUT ABOUT THE PREVIOUS TIMELINE REBIRTHS AND AND AND

HES A SWAP. HE IS A SWAP SANS. AND ILL DRILL THIS INTO YOUR MIND AS OFTEN AS I NEED TO. HE IS A SWAP SANS. HE EATS TACOS. HE HAS STARS FOR EYES. THINGS FLY OVER HIS HEAD. HE IS PHYSICALLY STRONG BUT NOT THAT SMART. HE MWEHEHEHS (KIND OF IMPLIED). COME ON DUDE. STOP FORGETTING THIS. MAKE HIM MWEHEHEH MORE. MAKE HIM STAR-EYES MORE WHEN CLASSICS JUST,,, DONT. I NEED THERE TO BE DIFFERENCES CUZ THERES SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE COME ONNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

AAND THATS NOT EVEN TOUCHING ON HIS CHILDHOOD. HE WAS DEADASS VERBALLY AND PHYSICALLY ABUSED BY XGASTER AND HEAVILY NEGLECTED AND WE IGNORE THIS FOR WHY??? HE WAS BEAT AS A KID HELLO??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??! STOP MAKING HIM AN ALPHA GRR MALE AND BREAK DOWN THE WALLS HE WAS FORCED TO BUILD SINCE CHILDHOOD AND GIVE HIM A GOODDAMN SMORE ON A STICK AND WEIGHTED BLANKET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

what a perfectly healthy and normal way to look at your father

HE IS MY FAVORITE TO PROJECT ONTO HIM. HE GREW UP IN THE HOUSE OF A CONTROL FREAK WHO WAS NOT AGAINST USING PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST A CHILD SO YOUNG THEY HAVE TO USE A FUCKING STEP-STOOL TO REACH THE BATHROOM SINK. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT. HE IS LITERALLY THE PERFECT PROJECTION DOLL. SUFFERED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA? CROSS IS YA BOY. MAKE HIM SUFFER. CAUSE HE ALREADY HAS. I CAN MAKE HIM HAVE MY PTSD SYMPTOMS ALL I WANT CUZ HES ME FR!!!!!!

ALSO ALPHYS IS HIS SISTER HOLY SHIT CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT MORE??? "OHH BUT TECHNICALLY ALPHYS ISNT AND XPAPYRUS SAID-" THEY GREW UP TOGETHER. WITH THE SAME MAN RAISING THEM. IN THE SAME HOUSE. THEY WENT AS GROUPS TO THINGS. THEY LIKELY WENT TO THE SAME SCHOOLS. THEY SAT AT THE DINNER TABLE TOGETHER. THEY PLAYED TOGETHER. THEY HUNG OUT WITH THE SAME FRIENDS AT THE SAME TIME. ALPHYS HAS A SPECIAL CARE FOR CROSS THAT SHE DOESNT SHOW FOR MOST OTHERS. AND SHES A LESBIAN SO DONT TWIST IT TO BE LIKE A CRUSH OR SOMETHING. THEY R SIBLINGS. THEYRE JUST FLAT OUT SIBLINGS. YEAH PAPYRUS SAID THEYRE NOT BUT PAPYRUS ALSO HAS DISTANCED HIMSELF A LOT FROM HIS FAMILY OVER THE YEARS MEANWHILE CROSS STAYED PUT MORE OFTEN THAN NOT. PAPYRUS HATES XGASTER AND HAS SHOWN THAT DISDAIN MANY MANY MANY MANY TIMES--EVEN EXTENDING THAT DISDAIN TOWARDS ALPHYS HERSELF. HE ONLY STAYS CONNECTED WITH CROSS AND I KNOW DAMN WELL A GOOD CHUNK OF HIS REASONING FOR THAT IS BECAUSE THEY LITERALLY WORK TOGETHER. CROSS HAS ALSO SHOWN THE DISDAIN FOR XGASTER BUT ALSO HOLDS A TYPE OF LONGING AND FEAR IN REFERENCE TO HIS FATHER. PLEASE. PLEASE. COME ON. GIVE ME THIS.

ALPHYS IS LITERALLY HIS SISTER. THEYRE SIBLINGS. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. THERES SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE. HES THE ONLY SANS TO HAVE A SISTER. THE ONLY SANS THAT SEES ALPHYS AS A SISTER. HOW ISOLATED MUST THAT MAKE HIM FEEL. NOT ONLY IS HIS AU SUCH AN AMALGAMATION THAT HE CANT CORRECTLY RELATE WITH CLASSICS OR SWAPS, BUT HE CANT EVEN RELATE TO ANYONE ABOUT ALPHYS. WILD SHIT.

OKAY ANYWAY. AFTER EVERYTHING CROSS WENT THROUGH AS A KID EVENTUALLY HE DISCOVERED HIS DAD WASNT JUST AN ABUSIVE POS BUT ALSO THAT HE CONTROLS THE VERY WORLD HE LIVES IN AND THAT HE IS JUST A SMALL PART OF SOMETHING MUCH GREATER, ONLY INTRODUCED BECAUSE HE TRUSTED FRISK ENOUGH FOR HIM TO CHOOSE CROSS OUT OF EVERYONE. THAT EVERYTHING ABOUT THE WORLD HE LIVES IN IS BECAUSE OF HIS SHITASS DAD. AND HES CONFUSED AND HES ANGRY. AND HIS WORLDVIEW IS COMPLETELY SHATTERED. EVERYTHING HE KNEW WAS A LIE AND HE WAS ALWAYS UNDER XGASTER'S CONTROL. HOW FUCKED UP MUST THAT BE TO REALIZE. ALSO HE WAS STABBED A LOT BY HIS BEST FRIEND. DUDE LOST HIS SENSE OF EVERYTHING. SENSE OF SELF, OF WHO HE CAN TRUST, FAMILY, ETC. AND IT WAS EVEN MORE DRIVEN IN WHEN UNDYNE AND PAPYRUS LITERALLY ATTEMPTED TO KILL HIM. HELLO???

AND. CROSS' OWN NAME. HIS NAME WAS SANS FOR MOST OF HIS LIFE, BUT NOW HE CALLS HIMSELF CROSS AND WILL INSIST THAT NAME IS USED FOR HIM AT ALL TIMES (i know what you are...it fucken transgemder...). BUT THATS NOT. BUT THATS NOT EVEN CONSIDERING THE ONLY REASON HE GOT THAT NAME WAS BECAUSE OF FRISK SEMI-TAUNTING HIM WHILE CROSS WAS IN THE MIDST OF DYING IN HIS DREAM WORLD. THE ONLY THING CROSS HAS LEFT OF HIS BEST FRIEND IS THE NAME HE WAS GIVEN WHILST BLEEDING OUT FROM LIKE 20 STAB WOUNDS. AND YET CROSS IDENTIFIES WITH THAT NAME SO PAINFULLY MUCH HE WILL PHYSICALLY FIGHT AND KICK AND SCREAM TO HAVE IT USED. THE NAME SANS USED FOR HIM MAKES HIM RECOIL.

AND HIS DYNAMIC WITH CHARA??? PAINFULLY UNDERUSED SO SO PAINFULLY UNDERUSED. OH MY GOD. THEY COULD BE THE BROTHERS EVER BUT NOOO YOU HATE CHARA!!!!!! THEY BOTH WENT THROUGH SO MUCH FROM XGASTER AND LOST EVERYTHING THEY LOVE AND CARE ABOUT. BOTH WERE CLOSE TO FRISK. BOTH WERE ABUSED. IF YOU KEEP THE SCAR AND THE RED EYE YOU GOTTA KEEP CHARA THATS THE RULES MAN. SAYING HES LOCKED AWAY IS COWARD SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHARA AND HE HAVE FUN BANTER. THEYRE EXCITING. EVERY FIC WITH CHARA WAS A BETTER READ AUTOMATICALLY BECAUSE I LOVE SEEING THEIR DYNAMIC AND ALSO I LOVE CHARA. THE WAY THEY BOTH HAVE DEVELOPED AS PEOPLE FOLLOWING THEIR TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCES AND ACROSS THE DURATION OF THE X-EVENT IS WILD AND AND AND I LOVE IT. THE PARALELLS BETWEEN CROSS AND CHARA, AND CHARA AND XGASTER. THERE IS SO MUCH HURT COMFORT POTENTIAL HELLO?? AND ANGST LIKE. IMAGINE HAVING TO STAY STILL AND NOT REACT AS A GHOST TEENAGER HURLS INSULTS AT YOU THAT HURT DEEPLY, TRYING TO GET A REACTION. IMAGINE THAT SAME GHOST TEENAGER SILENTLY CRYING TO HIMSELF WHEN HE THINKS YOURE ASLEEP. IMAGINE GOING TO A SECLUDED PLACE AND YELLING AT THAT GHOST TEENAGER THAT FOLLOWS YOU AROUND AFTER A DAY OF HAVING TO IGNORE HIM. IMAGINE THAT GHOST TEENAGER WITHHOLDING INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR PAST LIVES. IMAGINE THAT GHOST TEENAGER AND YOU TALKING THINGS OUT. IMAGINE THAT GHOST TEENAGER NAGGING YOU TO EAT CHICKEN NUGGETS BECAUSE HE REALLY WANTS CHICKEN NUGGETS BUT HE CANT CONTROL THE BODY SO CROSS HAS TO EAT THEM FOR HIM SO HE GETS THE SENSATION OF EATING AND THE TASTE OF SAID NUGGIES. IMAGINE BEING INJURED AND THE GHOST TEENAGER WHO HAS YELLED AT YOU MORE TIMES THAN YOU CAN COUNT IS TRYING TO KEEP YOU FOCUSED AND AWAKE AND WHILE HE CANT TOUCH YOU HES TRYING HIS BEST TO COMFORT YOU THE BEST WAY HE CAN BECAUSE YOU JUST STARTED TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER DAMMIT, YOU CANT DIE NOW. IMAGINE THAT GHOST TEENAGER REALIZING HE'S ACTING LIKE HIS ABUSIVE DAD WHEN HE YELLS AT CROSS WHAT XGASTER ONCE YELLED AT HIM. IMAGINE THAT GHOST TEENAGER POKING FUN AT CROSS' MISTAKES AND BEING LIKE AN ANNOYING LITTLE BROTHER. IMAGINE THEM DEFENDING EACH OTHERS' NAMES DESPITE THEIR DIFFERENCES BC THEYRE BROTHERS AND THATS WHAT BROTHERS DO. PLEEAAASEEEE.

ALSO THE POTENTIAL HE HAS WITH TORIEL IS REALLY CUTE AND IGNORED. SHES KIND OF LIKE A MOTHER FIGURE TO HIM IDK.... HE DESERVES A MOM I FEEL. EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS MORE LIKE AN AUNT (asriel calls xgaster "uncle") I REALLY LOVE THE IDEA OF THE DREEMURRS BEING PARENTAL TO CROSS. I MEAN. LOOK AT THEM.

HE AND METTATON ARE SO FUNNY TOO BECAUSE THEY HATE EACH OTHERS GUTS SO MUCH. WHICH IS WILD BECAUSE CROSS IS FRISK'S BEST FRIEND, YET METTATON WAS MADE TO PROTECT FRISK. BUT THEY HATE EACH OTHER. AND ITS SO FUNNY. do you think cross is curt with literally every mettaton he sees out of habit. i mean come on LOOK AT THEM. THEYRE SO STUPID.

ALSO CROSS IS SO FUCKING SHORT OH MY GOD. HES 4 FOOT 7 (i thought he was 5 feet until a few days ago cuz that was his old height). i need you to process this. like actually. i am 5'5. i would be 9 inches taller than him. i would be nine inches taller than him. 4'11? 4 inches taller than his tiny ass. he is literally so small. PLEASE make him tiny more often ill be so appreciative. he needs help reaching the cabinets

HES ALSO A FUCKING CUTIE PATOOTIE. HES GOT LITTLE FANGS. HES GOT FANGS!! BITEY BOYS!!!!!!!!! HES GOT FANGS AND THEYRE SHARP!! HE PROBABLY BITES HIS TONGUE SO VERY MUCH!!!!!!!! BITEY BOY. HE WAS A BITER AS A KID TOO. COME ON. EVEN IN UNDERVERSE HES GOT BIG ASS FANGS. ITS NOT JUST A STYLE CHOICE HES LITERALLY A BITEY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HES GOT SHARP TEETHERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he probably needed chew toys as a kid (so did i)`

AND HIS MOUTH. THE WAY ITS ALEWAYS LIKE THIS. HES ALWAYS GOT THAT STUPID LITTLE CHEEK. HE JUST. HES SO.. RGGRGRGRGGRGRROWLS I LOVE HIM!! HE IS SO SILLAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND HES SO SMUG TOO ALL THE TIME. HE HAS SOME SUPERIORITY COMPLEX AT ALL TIMES. LOOK AT HIS SMUG FUCKING FACE. LOOK AT HIM. DUMBASS. HE DOES THIS SIGNATURE BASTARD THING WHERE HE TURNS HIS HEAD TO THE SIDE WITH A SCOFF. HE IS SO PRISSY. SO UPTIGHT ALL THE TIME. GOD

hes such a FUCKING MENACE TOO. LOOK AT THIS ASSHOLE.

HES TERRIBLE. HES SUCH A DICK. HES A MENACE AND SHOULD BE KEPT ON A LEASH. HES A SMUG IDIOT WHO THINKS HES BETTER THAN SO MANY PEOPLE AND HE IS MEAN AND SORT OF FULL OF HIMSELF AND DEFINITELY ACTS LIKE MOST PEOPLE FROM THE MILITARY IVE MET. which is fitting because hes FROM THE XTALE MILITARY. "ROYAL GUARD" IN XTALE IS JUST DEADASS THE MILITARY. HIS STUPID SELF WENT TO BOOT CAMP. AND YET HES LIKE THIS. AWFUL. HES MEAN TO KIDS. HE LITERALLY STOLE A CHILD'S CHOCOLATE MILK. WHO DOES THAT. APPARENTLY CROSS DOES.

HE IS JUST. CANONICALLY AWFUL TO KIDS. HES NEEDLESSLY JUST. MEAN TO THEM. FOR NO REASON. HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE KIDS. WASNT GIVEN A GOOD EXAMPLE. TERRIBLE BABYSITTER. BUT ALSO HE'D CANONICALLY LOVE HIS DAUGHTER IF HE EVER HAD ONE.... HE DOESNT WANNA TREAT HIS CHILD LIKE HIS DAD TREATED HIM.... SIGHS... HE CALLS HIS DAUGHTER HIS PRINCESS WTF,,, HES A CUTIE PIE.!!!!!!!!!!! HE NEEDS 2 WORK THINGS OUT :(

AND AND AND. THE LITTLE WAYS HE CHOOSES TO REBEL. LIKE HIS NEW TERRIBLE AS HELL OUTFIT WITH THE BOOB WINDOW. WHICH I DONT LIKE. BUT ITS A WAY FOR HIM TO REBEL AGAINST WHAT HES FORCED TO BE HIS ENTIRE LIFE YADDA YADDA. THE OLD OUTFIT WAS BETTER BUT THE SYMBOLISM HERE IS NEAT. ANYWAY. THE LEFTOVER FEELINGS AND RAGE AND ANGER HE HAS FOR HIS FATHER BUT THE LONGING TO BE ACCEPTED AND LOVED BY HIM?!?!??!?!?!?! COME ON GUYS. WE CAN DO BETTER THAN THIS. WE CAN MAKE HIM HAVE MORE DADDY ISSUES

HE IS SO CONFLICTING FEELINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INTOXICATED ASSHOLE WANTS A HUG FROM HIS DAD BUT ALSO HATES HIS DAD SOOOOOOOOO MUCH.

ALSO LOOK AT HIM AS A DUMB CUTE LITTLE BABY. BABY BOY. FAT USELESS INFANT. ADORABLE. I LOVE HIM

HE DOESNT KNOW ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOTHING AT ALL!!! SWEET BABY BOY...... HE KNOWS NOT OF THE HORRORS THAT AWAIT HIM!!!!!!

and hes a CRYBABY TOO AND I LOVE THAT FOR HIM. GRGHRGRRGRHWOLOWLSS

he was BORN A CRYBABY AND THATS HOW HE'LL DIE!!! AND NOBODY UTILIZES THIS BTW. IVE GOT LIKE FOUR OR FIVE OTHER PHOTOS OF HIM JUST CRYING IN SITUATIONS WHERE CRYING ISNT WARRANTED. BUT HE DOES. HE CRIES WHEN HE IS MILDLY FRUSTRATED. HE CRIES WHEN HE IS MILDLY ASHAMED. WHERE IS HIM CRYING OVER STUPID SHIT. WHERE IS HIM TAKING A JOKE TOO PERSONALLY AND HE TEARS UP AGAINST HIS WILL. WHERE IS HIM SOBBING IN HIS ROOM OVER SOMETHING SOMEONE SAID IN PASSING THAT HIT TOO HARD. WHY DOESNT HE CRY MORE. YOURE ALL PUSSIES. MAKE HIM CRY MORE OFTEN. CRYBABY CROSS. HE DESERVES 2 BE ONE AFTER BEING WARPED INTO AN ALPHA MALE FOR THE PAST EIGHT GODDAMN YEARS. FUCK

AND AND AND THATS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO TOUCHING HIS FANON INTERACTIONS WHICH I LOVE JUST AS MUCH. HOW EVERYONE INSTANTLY DECIDED HED HAVE A RIVALRY WITH KILLER GIVEN HOW CROSS IS EASY TO RILE UP AND FRUSTRATE WHILE KILLER IS THE BUTTON PUSHER?? GREAT SHIT. ALL OF YOU. GOOD JOB. ITS FUCKING BRILLIANT. THANK YOU.

CROSS JOINING NIGHTMARE'S GROUP IS MY FAVORITE INTERPETATION. SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE I KNOW HE WOULDNT WANT TO. CROSS IS FUCKED UP BUT HE HAS MORALS, HE STILL FOLLOWS THE ROYAL GUARD CODE MENTALLY. HE DOESNT LIKE KILLING. HE DOESNT AGREE WITH NEEDLESS MURDER. HE CAN HARM, SURE, BUT ALL THE DEATH WAS XCHARA'S DIRECT ACTIONS OR HEAVY INFLUENCE (love u xchara). CROSS WOULD LOATHE TO JOIN NIGHTMARES GROUP AS A LACKEY WHO GOES AROUND KILLING PEOPLE FOR NO GAIN TOWARDS HIMSELF. HE DOES WHAT HE DOES TO GET HIS AU BACK. JOINING NIGHTMARE'S TEAM WITH NO HELP TOWARDS THAT GOAL WOULD BE HELL ON HIM, EVEN IN A FANON SETTING. BECAUSE HE'D HATE IT. HE'S GONE FROM A RIGHTEOUS ROYAL GUARD WHO HELPED THOSE IN NEED TO SOMEONE WHO LIVES WITH A GROUP OF MURDERERS AND AIDS THEM IN THEIR KILLING OF INNOCENTS. i like to think cross doesnt kill, like he just. refuses to. he will hurt and incapacitate, but he doesn't kill. and he also refuses to harm children, papyri, alphys, whatever. there were times where he couldve killed one of the stars but he didn't and idk i like that. i like it when hes like that.

I ALSO LOVE FANON AND CANON DYNAMICS WITH NM'S GROUP EITHER AS A WHOLE OR AS INDIVIDIUALS. I LOVE KROSS SO OBVIOUSLY KILLER AND CROSS' DYNAMIC IS MY FAVORITE. I LOVE RIVALS. I LOVE PEOPLE WHO CANT STAND EACH OTHER. I LOVE IT WHEN KILLER BUGS CROSS UNTIL HE SNAPS AND THATS WHEN THEIR DYNAMIC GETS MORE INTERESTING. I LOVE IT WHEN CROSS GETS RILED UP AND ANGRY. I LOVE IT WHEN HES MAD AND GOT ISSUES. I LOVE IT WHEN KILLER EGGS HIM ON BECAUSE ITS FUNNY. I LOVE WHEN THEY REACH A DEEPER UNDERSTANDING.

HORROR AND DUST... MAN. I LOVE DUST AND CROSS' DYNAMIC THE MOST OUT OF THE TWO JUST CAUSE DUST IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES. THEY BOTH HAVE GHOST BROTHERS (EVEN IF ONE ISNT EXACTLY REAL). DUST IS PARANOID AND JITTERY BUT MOST OF ALL QUIET, HE DOESNT PICK FIGHTS LIKE KILLER DOES SO CROSS LIKES HIM FOR THAT. THEY HANG AROUND IN SILENCE I THINK,,,

HORROR MAKES CROSS THINK OF HOME IN A WAY BECAUSE OF HOW HE COOKS AND WHAT HE COOKS. HORROR IS VERY RUMBLY AND SORT OF LIKE A GREAT DANE AND DEFINITELY VERY INTIMIDATING AT FIRST. HE SCARED OFF CROSS SO SO MUCH AT FIRST. I THINK CROSS ASKING HIM TO MAKE LIKE TACOS OR A BUTTERSCOTCH CINNAMON PIE WAS WHEN THEY STARTED 2 GET CLOSER. BUT THATS CAUSE I LOVE THEM AS A SHIP TOO SO YOU MIGHT BE GETTING SOME UNDERTONES. THATS WHY. HOWEVER THERES ALSO ANGST POTENTIAL GIVEN THE DIFFERENCE IN THEIR ALPHYS'. HORROR LOBOTOMIZED HER. CROSS WAS RAISED ALONGSIDE HER. LOVELY

NIGHTMARE IS A SUPER COOL CHARACTER IN UNDERVERSE I FEEL. NOT JUST BECAUSE HE IS VIOLENCE ITSELF BUT BECAUSE OF HOW MANIPULATIVE HE WAS. IN CANON IT WOULDNT BE TOO HARD TO MANIPULATE CROSS INTO FULLY JOINING, EXCEPT IN UNDERVERSE HE DIDNT HAVE A TEAM, JUST KILLER. IF HE DID, I DONT DOUBT HE COULD MANIPULATE CROSS INTO JOINING. CROSS HAD LOST EVERYTHING, AND HE WOULD DO ANYTHING TO GET HIS WORLD, HIS FAMILY, BACK. IN FANON, NIGHTMARE IS A LOT MORE A "take you under my wing" KIND OF FIGURE I THINK!!!!!!!!!! HE CARES FOR CROSS IN THAT REGARD, TAKING IN A STUBBORN SOLDIER WHO LOST AS MUCH AS THE OTHER MEMBERS OF HIS TEAM. EITHER WAY I LIKE HIM. I THINK CROSS WOULD HATE HIS GUTS IN CANON, BECAUSE. HE DOES. YEAH. BUT IN A MORE FANON SETTING CROSS WOULD BE PAINFULLY LOYAL EVEN IF IT HURT HIM, BECAUSE CROSS IS USED TO SURRENDERING HIMSELF TO LOYALTY. HIS MORALS, HIS WANTS, NOTHING MATTERS WHEN HE HAS A JOB TO DO AND SOMEONE TO PLEASE. NIGHTMARE COULD VERY WELL BE THAT, THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CANONMARE AND FANONMARE IS HOW NM REACTS.

AND EPIC. I LOVE YOU EPIC. I LOVE HIS DYNAMIC WITH EPIC. I LOVE HOW CROSS KNEW EPIC AND THEN FORGOT. AND THEN MET HIM AGAIN AND AND. GRGRRHRHH. HOW THEY WERE FRIENDS IN ANOTHER LIFE AND THEYRE FRIENDS IN THIS ONE TOO. HOW DESPITE HOW DIFFERENT CROSS IS NOW, EPIC STAYS. I LOVE HOW THEYRE CASUAL BESTIES. I LOVE HOW THEYRE SILLY TOGETHER AND WATCH EACH OTHER DO STUPID SHIT AND EGG EACH OTHER ON. I LOVE HOW THEYRE DUMB TOGETHER AND MAKE SILLY JOKES AND WATCH ANIME AND MAKE SILLY REFERENCES. I LOVE THEM. EVERYONE IS PROBABLY SO TIRED OF THEM. THEYRE SO DUMB AND SILLY AND GRGRRHRRHHRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEYRE BESTIES. THEYRE THE DUMBEST BESTEST FRIENDS. CROSS ONLY EVER TRULY UNWINDS AND LETS HIS GUARD DOWN WHEN EPIC'S AROUND AND THERES SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT THAT. SOULMATES I TELL U.......

THE STARS!!! COULDNT FINISH THIS POST WITHOUT MENTIONING THEM. CROSS' DYNAMIC WITH THEM ISNT SOMETHING I FOCUS ON TOO-TOO MUCH NORMALLY BUT HERE WE GO!!!!

HIM AND SWAP FIRST. CROSS RELATES MORE TO SWAP THAN HE DOES MOST OTHER SANSES BECAUSE CROSS IS A SWAP. THIS IS KIND OF CANON TOO. WHILE CROSS FINDS A LOT OF CLASSIC BEHAVIORS DETESTABLE (ie drinking condiments or overall being lazy), SWAP IS LIKE HIM IN THAT REGARD. THEYRE BESTIES. THEY INTERACT A LOT OUTSIDE OF THEIR BRIEF CANON MEETING. JAKEI DRAWS THEM LOTS,,,,, SIGHS,,, I THINK THEYD BE GOOD FRIENDS EVEN IF CROSS ISNT IN THE STARS, LIKE A TRUCE AU OR JUST WHERE CROSS DOESNT ALIGN HIMSELF WITH ANY TEAM OR EVEN WHERE CROSS DOES, BUT THIS SWAP ISNT THE SAME ONE ON THE STARS' TEAM. THEYD BE SUPER CLOSE FRIENDS I THINK... au where cross is on nm's team but hangs out with a random swap from an unaffected timeline to destress between jobs, but that swap ends up being the one in the stars and idk. beginning of a truce or something much worse. u decide

DREAM!!!!! I DONT LIKE CREAM BUT I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC IN CANON IN A PLATONIC WAY. I THINK THEYD BE FRIENDS. DREAM INSPIRES HOPE IN CROSS IN A WAY THAT HE THOUGHT HE LOST, REMINDING HIM OF HIS ROOTS AND HIS SENSE OF BELONGING IN THE ROYAL GUARD. WHICH IS A SCENE THAT MADE ME TEAR UP. THAT KIND OF HOPE IS JUST WHAT CROSS NEEDED IN THE MOMENT AND I FEEL DREAM COULD BE A REALLY GOOD GENUINE MORAL SUPPORT IN THAT REGARD. A GOOD INFLUENCE THAT CROSS 100% NEEDS. IF CROSS IS ON NM'S TEAM, DREAM IS THE ONE THAT MAKES CROSS HESITATE EVERY TIME DREAM OFFERS AND CROSS IS ABOUT TO DENY.

INK. WOULDNT BE A CROSS POST WITHOUT A LITTLE BIT OF INK WOULD IT. INK AND CROSS ARE SO DIVORCEES I THINK. BOTH WERE MANIPULATED BY XGASTER, ALTHOUGH CROSS WAS TREATED AHEM A LOT MORE POORLY. INK IS A REMINDER OF CROSS' PAST AND HIS TIME SPENT IN THE REMAINS OF HIS AU, IN ISOLATION. YET INK WAS ALSO HIS FRIEND. INK MEANT THE WORLD TO HIM BACK THEN. AND INSTINCTUALLY CROSS STILL DEFENDS HIM, EVEN IF HES ANGRY AND HATES INK FOR WHAT HE DID. THEYRE FULL OF CONFLICTING FEELINGS. AND I LOVE BOTH EQUALLY WHERE THEY EITHER TALK THINGS OUT OR WHERE IT STEWS FOREVER.

I ALSO REALLY LOVE JAKEIS DEVELOPMENT OF HIM. AT FIRST HE WAS A VERY ANGRY CHARACTER WHO WAS SORT OF DISSOCIATING AND IN A TERRIBLE MENTAL STATE (TO WHERE IF HE WAS ABLE TO USE THE OVERWRITE BUTTON AT THE TIME OF BEING TRAPPED IN THE REMAINS OF HIS AU HE WOULD HAVE DESTROYED HIS BODY AND ANY CHANCE OF FIXING THE AU BECAUSE HE IS SO OUT OF IT MENTALLY). AND HE REMAINED ANGRY FOR A GOOD BIT. AND THEN GOT EMO AND SAD. AND THEN HE GOT TIRED. AND NOW HES BACK TO BEING ANGRY AGAIN MOST LIKELY GIVEN THE FEW SNEAK PEAKS IVE SEEN OF THE NEXT UNDERVERSE EP. IM EXCITED TO SEE HOW HE REACTS TO SEEING XGASTER AGAIN. IM ALSO MOSTLY EXCITED FOR HIS OLD OUTFIT BEING BACK. I DIDNT LIKE THE BOOB WINDOW OR SLEEVELESS JOCK GETUP. SORRY CROSS

CAPSLOCK IS GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME

OKAY. ANYWAY. HIS KNIFE THE BIG RED KNIFE. I MISS IT SO MUCH. THAT KNIFE INFLUENCED MY CHARACTER DESIGN FOR AGES. HES EDGY AND EMO AND I MISS THE KNIFE. THERE WAS SOMETHING ICONIC TO ME ABOUT IT. BIG RED KNIFE IS STILL CANON.... XCHARA COME BACK... I NEED U TO KNIFE HIM UP AGAIN...

AND AND AND. AND. CROSS!!!! HES PERFECT TO PROJECT ANYTHING ONTO. HES PERFECT TO WRITE ANGST OF. AND COMFORT I GUESS. HES MY FAVORITE CHARACTER TO WRITE THE DEHUMANIZATION OF BECAUSE HE EVEN CALLS HIMSELF A DOG AT ONE POINT IN UNDERVERSE. HELLO???? THERE WAS A POST THAT WENT LIKE "submissive in the way a dog is submissive to the sheep it kills coyotes for" THATS CROSS. THOSE IMAGES WHERE ITS A NOSTALGIC PICTURE OF A DOG/WOLF WITH TEXT IN A TYPEWRITER FONT ABOUT LOYALTY BEING THE DEATH OF YOU? CROSS. "IM NOT A VIOLENT DOG I DONT KNOW WHY I BITE" "I WONT WAIT FOR YOU, I BITE"? CROSS. CROSS CROSS CROSS. HE IS PERFECT BECAUSE HE IS ANGRY AND HE IS VIOLENT BUT HE IS HURTING. AND HE HURTS SO GODDAMN MUCH.

ID ADD SO MANY MORE IMAGES BUT I HIT THE 30 IMAGE LIMIT?!?!?!?!? PLEASE TELL ME U KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT THO.... PLEASE.... COME ON.......

I LOVE CROSS SO MUCH. I REALLY DO. HES MY BESTEST BOY EVER. I WOULD SAY GOOD BOY AND HE WOULD TREMBLE. I JUST REALIZED HOW SUGGESTIVE THAT SOUNDED. TAKE THAT AS YOU WILL I GUESS. ANYWAY YES CROSS SANS

I LOVE HIM. HES MY FAVORITE. I LOVE HIM AND HIS DYNAMICS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS. I LOVE HIM AND HIS STORY. I LOVE HIM AND HIS STUPID HABITS. HIS DAILY STRUGGLE TO GET DRESSED BC HES STUPID AND THE OUTFIT IS COMPLICATED. THE WAY HE CRIES SO MUCH. HIS STUPID FACE. HIS SMUG ASS STANCE. HIS STRAIGHT FUCKING POSTURE. THE WAY HES AN ASSHOLE TO EVERYONE WHO DOESNT HOLD DIRECT POWER OVER HIM. THE WAY HES DEVELOPED AS A CHARACTER OVER THE YEARS. I LOVE HIM.

THIS ISNT EVEN ALL OF IT. BUT ITS GETTING SO LONG IM JUST. GONNA END HERE. LMFAO. OK THATS IT

BYEBYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Okay, guys, this is weird. It's clearly a red barn, but it has a castle turret (ok, it's a silo, but it's like a barn castle). This is not a barndominium, it's a bastle. Built in 1995 in Castlewood, SD, it has 6bds, 5ba, and outbuildings. The house is 15,000sq.ft, and comes out to only $29/sq.ft. at $430K. I was not expecting the interior- I was expecting rustic. Check it out.

Very plain, unassuming entrance. Cheap Home Depot Door.

And, then, bam! Gray brick with a fireplace, stairs, walls with interior windows, and balconies. Where the hell am I?

The other side of the great room has plain white walls, a big open balcony, and what looks like brick walls set into the railing specifically for the display of heads. I also see brick columns, beams and a brick wall on the far end above, plus stairs to a lower level. So much going on.

Basically, where there's a railing, there's just an open space for a game room, TV room, etc.

Oh, wow, from this view, there's a marble wall. I have never seen windows w/faux marble shutters, notice the barn doors, as well.

One must wonder who designed this masterpiece. It sure is complex. On the right it looks like 3 steps going up to what, a window and small hallway? There's also a door on the right, and door above.

Here's a view from the balcony area. I guess we can also call it a mezzanine.

Back downstairs, we're in the kitchen. I'm not impressed. Don't like the cabinets or the layout.

Then, here's a way oversized dining room. Note the little shelf above- it has a tiny railing.

I'm gonna say that this is a giant family room off the dining room, and it took me a minute to realize that the "island" in the middle is a hot tub.

So, this must've been a game room. Note the rectangular decorative wall by the pool table.

Then over here there's a TV room that looks like it was decorated by Meemaw and Papaw. I have to say that I hate the furniture- it doesn't go with the funkiness of the house.

It looks like there are patterns on the walls, like wheat stalks going up the stairs.

Wallpaper or some kind of decorative panels up here. There's so much space.

Here's a dark bedroom. The ceiling and walls are so weird.

This large bedroom looks like it's in the silo/turret.

The shape of the ceiling up here is interesting. I don't know what this is- maybe some kind of storage area.

There's a 2 car garage with a large attached barn.

Plus, another very large building attached to the barn.

It's some sort of workshop.

The white building is a whole 'nother house w/3bds, 1ba. Remember, it's only $29 per sq. ft., so it's a lot for the money.

And, this L-shaped building is another huge barn/work space. This could be someone's empire.

Wow, it's big.

2.84 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/45849-184th-St-Castlewood-SD-57223/2075595228_zpid/

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[il-predestinato]

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

[blakeswritingimagines]

Talk Is Cheap, So Show Me

Summary: Aegon is a pathetic fanboy over you - the cosplayer who's got his eye.

Word count: 5.1k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Aegon, the eldest of the wealthy and powerful Targaryen family. He was a handsome young man, with wavy platinum blonde hair and striking lavender eyes. Despite his spoiled privilege and high status, Aegon found solace in gaming. He spent hours playing various video games and role-playing games online, immersing himself in fantastical worlds. But one particular interest caught his attention - cosplay. He loved scrolling through pictures and videos of beautiful women dressed up as his favorite characters, admiring their creativity and dedication to the craft. It became an obsession for him. You were a cosplayer, spending hours crafting your costumes and perfecting your makeup. Although you came from a humble background, you had always had a fascination for fantasy and fiction, which led you to the world of cosplay. You took great pride in your work and were known in the cosplay community for your intricate and accurate costumes. One day, while sorting through your cosplay photos online, you noticed a name continuously popping up in the comments - Aegon.

Aegon had been stalking your social media accounts for weeks now, unable to resist the allure of your gorgeous cosplays. His heart pounded every time he saw a new post or comment from you, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement. He knew it was wrong, given that you were both from very different backgrounds, but he couldn't deny his growing attraction towards you. One night, after another long session of gaming, he decided to take a chance. He sent you a private message on one of the popular social networking sites. As you were scrolling through your messages, you saw a notification from Aegon. Your eyes widened slightly as you clicked on the message, feeling a mixture of curiosity and surprise. You had noticed his comments before but never paid much attention to them. Now, as you read his words, you felt a flutter in your chest. ~Absolutely gorgeous, I've never seen a more perfect cosplay of that character. You nailed it.~ You hesitated for a moment. Should you reply to him? You weren't sure what his intentions were, but there was something about his message that intrigued you. Aegon watched eagerly as you opened his message. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response. He felt a rush of relief mixed with anticipation by having finally said something.

He quickly typed out another reply, trying to sound casual yet flirty. ~You must have put so much effort into making that costume. I'm impressed!~ He hit send and then immediately regretted sounding too nice. He didn't want to scare you off by being too forward, but at the same time, he wanted to make sure you knew how much he appreciated your work. You smiled at Aegon's response. His words were sincere, and you could tell he genuinely appreciated your work. You couldn't help but feel a little flutter of excitement in your chest. Before responding, you took a moment to think. You didn't want to come off as too eager, but you also wanted to let him know that you were interested in continuing the conversation. After taking a deep breath, you typed out a response. ~Thank you! It means a lot coming from someone who appreciates cosplay. It did take hours to make, but it was worth it in the end.~ Aegon's heart skipped a beat when he received your response. He hadn't expected you to write back so soon, let alone with such a warm and friendly tone. He felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling his fingers as they danced across the keyboard.

~I can only imagine how much time and effort goes into creating these masterpieces. I wish I had your talent!~ He hit send, hoping that his compliment wouldn't come off as insincere. He had always admired people who were passionate about their crafts, especially when it came to cosplay. You were certainly one of those individuals, and he found himself wanting to learn more about you. You smiled as you read Aegon's message. He seemed genuine in his praise, and you appreciated his kindness. You had to admit, it was nice to have someone appreciate your work for what it was even though you couldn't tell he had practically been drooling each time you posted a new photo. ~Talent only gets you so far. It's the passion and dedication that really make the difference. I've spent hours and hours practicing and experimenting to get to where I am now.~ You replied, feeling a sense of pride in your accomplishments.

Aegon read your response and felt a surge of admiration for you. The way you talked about your passion made him realize just how much he underestimated cosplayers like you. They weren't just dressing up; they were artists in their own right. ~That's amazing! It's clear that you love what you do, and it shows in your work. I bet you're already thinking about your next project…~ He wrote back, trying to keep things light-hearted while still showing his appreciation for your dedication. He couldn't wait to see what you would create next and kept quiet that he'd love to see more. You chuckled as you read Aegon's message. You were used to people making assumptions about cosplayers being shallow and pretentious, so it was refreshing to see someone who understood the passion and dedication behind it all. ~Actually, I do have a few ideas in mind for my next project. I always have several on the back burner. But I won't give too much away yet, you'll just have to wait and see.~ You typed back, teasing him gently.

Aegon laughed softly as he read your message. Your playful banter was contagious, and he found himself enjoying the conversation more than he thought he would. He liked how you kept things interesting and exciting, not giving anything away too easily. ~Oh, is that so? Well, I suppose I'll just have to wait in anticipation then. Don't keep me waiting too long though!~ He wrote back, matching your playful tone. He was starting to feel a connection with you, something he hadn't experienced with many others due to how stuffy, boring, and pretentious they were in his day-to-day life. Maybe this was the start of something special.

You found yourself thinking about Aegon more and more as the weeks went by. Your online conversations had become a regular part of your life, and you looked forward to seeing his name pop up in your notifications. You had kept things playful and casual, both of you enjoying the flirting and banter. But there was something more there, a connection that neither of you could deny. One night, after a particularly long conversation, you found yourself lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about Aegon. You wondered what he was doing at that moment, whether he was thinking about you too. Aegon couldn't stop thinking about you either. Every time he got home from partying, he checked his phone to see if you'd messaged him. Even when he tried to focus on other things, like playing games or watching TV, his mind always drifted back to you. There was something about you that drew him in, and he found himself wondering what kind of person you were outside of the online world. As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling just like you, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was building between you two. He was scared, yes, but also excited. What would happen if he crossed that line and asked you out? Would you say yes? Or would he ruin everything by overstepping his bounds?

He wanted to meet you in person, to see if the chemistry between you was as strong as it was online. One evening, after another engaging chat with you, Aegon found himself looking at your profile pictures again. He couldn't help but admire your beauty and the passion you put into your cosplays. He knew he had to take the next step, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. You rolled over onto your side, staring at the phone on your bedside table. Your conversation with Aegon had ended a few hours ago, but you couldn't get him out of your mind. You closed your eyes, imagining what he might be like in person. Was he just as charming and engaging as he was online? Or was there something different about him that you hadn't been able to glean from the conversations so far? Aegon tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position in his bed. His mind was racing, filled with thoughts of you. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to you. Sure, you were beautiful, but there were plenty of beautiful women out there. So what was it about you that made him crave more? He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen before he decided to type out a message. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he needed to hear your voice. To know that you were thinking about him too.

Your eyes abruptly opened as you heard the notification sound from your phone. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should even check it or not. But you couldn't resist the temptation. You reached for your phone and unlocked it, your heart racing as you saw the notification icon on the screen. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that it was a message from Aegon. You quickly swiped open the message, your fingers shaking slightly as you began to read his words. Aegon stared at the message he had just sent, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been so nervous about a simple text before. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he hoped that whatever happened next would be worth it. ~I hope you're still awake,~ he typed, adding a winking emoji at the end for good measure. He pressed send, hoping against hope that you would respond.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read Aegon's message. You couldn't help but chuckle at the winking emoji, finding it both cute and endearing. You quickly typed out her reply, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. ~What makes you think I would be sleeping at this late hour?~ You teased, adding a blushing emoji for good measure. Aegon let out a low whistle as he read your message. That damn blushing emoji did things to him. He could almost imagine how flustered you would act, and it made him want to reach out and touch you. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed out his response, eager to keep the conversation going. ~Well, I guess I'm just lucky then. You're wide awake and ready to chat.~ He wrote, adding another winking emoji because he couldn't resist. He hit send, grinning to himself as he waited for your response. You chuckled again as you read Aegon's response. He really was a smooth talker, and you couldn't deny the effect he was having on you. But you weren't going to let him rile you up too much. Not yet, anyway. ~Lucky indeed. But I have a feeling you were hoping I would still be awake,~ You typed back, adding a cheeky smirk emoji. ~What's on your mind so late at night?~

Aegon smiled as he read your message. You were definitely keeping things interesting, and he found himself looking forward to these nightly chats more and more. ~You're right. I was hoping you'd still be awake. Can't deny that now, can we?~ He wrote back, adding a laughing emoji to lighten the mood. As for what was on his mind… well, he wasn't quite ready to share that just yet. But he was getting close. You chuckled again, feeling your cheeks flush slightly at Aegon's words. You were enjoying this little game you both were playing, the flirty banter and teasing back-and-forth. It was exhilarating, and it made you feel alive. ~I knew it. You just can't get enough of me, can you?~ You teased, adding a tongue-sticking-out emoji for good measure. ~But you didn't answer my question. What's keeping you up late at night, hm?~ Aegon laughed at your comment, shaking his head slightly as he read your message. You certainly knew how to keep things light and fun, which was exactly what he needed right now. ~Oh, you know… Just thinking about you,~ he wrote back, adding a winky face to emphasize his point. He hit send and laid back in his bed, a satisfied smile on his face. He couldn't wait to see what you would say next.

You read Aegon's message and almost choked on your own saliva. You hadn't expected him to be so bold, but you definitely weren't complaining. The thought of him lying in bed, thinking about you, sent a shiver down your spine. ~Oh really? And what kind of thoughts might those be?~ You typed back, your fingers trembling slightly as you hit send. You were suddenly feeling a little flustered, but you tried your best to play it cool. Aegon's pulse quickened as he read your message. He couldn't believe how daring you were being, pushing him to reveal more. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart before he replied. ~Thinking about how pretty you are,~ he started, adding a blush emoji just to show that he meant it. Then, without missing a beat, he added, ~And wondering what you look like under all those clothes you wear during our late-night conversations.~ Your eyes widened as you read Aegon's message. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. You certainly hadn't been expecting such a direct response, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the tension of it all. ~Are you trying to get me flustered? Because it's working,~ You typed back, adding a flushed face emoji for good measure. ~And if you're curious, why don't you use your imagination? I'm sure you've got quite a vivid one…~

Aegon's grin grew wider as he read your message. You were definitely playing along, and he liked where this was heading. ~Oh, I have an imagination alright,~ he responded, adding a devilish smiley face. He paused for a moment, considering his next move carefully before typing out his final message. ~But sometimes, seeing is believing. Why don't we arrange a little video call later tonight? I promise I won't disappoint.~ You felt your heart skip a beat as you read Aegon's message. A video call? That certainly escalated things quickly. But you couldn't deny that you were intrigued. You thought about it for a moment, picturing what it would be like to see him face-to-face for the first time. ~Are you really that eager to get a peak at what I look like under my clothes?~ You teased back, adding a winking emoji for good measure. ~Sure, let's set something up later tomorrow. I'm excited to see what you have in store for me.~ Aegon's heart pounded in his chest as he read your message. His mind raced with anticipation, imagining what the video call would entail. He couldn't wait any longer; he wanted to see you now. ~How about now?~ he asked, typing back immediately. He hit send and sat up in bed, waiting anxiously for your response.

You raised an eyebrow as you read Aegon's message. Now? You hadn't expected him to push things so quickly, but you couldn't deny that the idea was tantalizing. ~Now? I mean, I suppose I could make time for a quick video call…~ You typed back, adding a thoughtful emoji for good measure. You sat up in bed too, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. Aegon's pulse quickened as he read your reply. This was happening. You two were actually doing this. He felt a rush of adrenaline surge through him, making his hands tremble slightly as he reached for his phone. Before he could change his mind, he hit accept on the incoming video call. His heart hammered in his chest as he saw your image come onto the screen. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as he looked into your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Aegon's face appear on your screen. He was just as handsome as he had described himself, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your stomach. You adjusted your own phone, making sure the camera captured your face from a flattering angle. You smiled at him nervously, trying to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Hey there…" she greeted softly, her voice trembling just a bit.

Aegon returned your smile, his eyes locked on yours. He felt a strange warmth spreading through him, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from your face. "Hi," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself. "You look amazing." His hand moved towards the edge of his blanket, slowly pulling it down to reveal his bare chest. He gave you a playful wink, then leaned back against his pillows, awaiting your reaction. Your eyes widened as you noticed the blanket falling slightly, revealing his bare chest. You couldn't help but admire his muscular physique, your eyes roaming over his chest and arms for just a moment before you met his gaze again. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice: "You… you don't look so bad yourself," you managed to say, your voice shaky with barely contained enthusiasm. "Is this your way of trying to tempt me?"

Aegon grinned at your words, his confidence growing with every second that passed. He loved the way your eyes roamed over his body, taking in every detail. It made him feel alive and desirable. "I wouldn't dream of tempting you," he lied smoothly, his tone dripping with flirtation. "I'd never do anything to jeopardize our… arrangement." He tilted his head slightly, running a hand through his hair as he watched you closely. There was something incredibly intoxicating about how you reacted to him, and he got harder by the second. You chuckled softly, your eyes flickering over Aegon's muscular chest once again. You were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the chemistry between you, and you couldn't deny the effect he was having on you. "Oh really? You wouldn't dream of tempting me? Then what would you call this…" You gestured at the way he was leaning back against his pillows, bare-chested and confident as if he knew exactly how attractive he was. "Because I'd call it a very tempting sight, indeed."

Aegon laughed lightly, enjoying the banter between you both. He liked how you weren't easily intimidated or impressed - it only made him want to impress you more. "Well then," he said, smirking playfully, "it seems like I've got some work cut out for me. How do you suggest I go about not tempting you?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as he awaited your answer, his hand idly tracing patterns on the sheet covering his lap. You couldn't help but grin at Aegon's playful demeanor. He was effortlessly charming, and it was starting to wear your defenses down. You feigned thoughtfulness, tapping a finger against your chin as you pretended to consider his question. "Hmmm… I suppose you could start by putting your shirt back on," you suggested, your eyes darting down to his hand tracing patterns on the sheet. You bit your lip, trying to maintain some measure of control and failing miserably. Aegon chuckled, shaking his head slightly at your suggestion. He liked your sense of humor, even if it was aimed at him. "Oh come now," he protested, "isn't part of the fun seeing what's underneath?" His hand stopped its idle movements on the sheet, instead sliding further down to tease the edge of his pants.

"But since you're so concerned," he added with a devilish smirk, "I can always put these back on too…" With that, he began to sit up, reaching for his pants as if ready to pull them up and cover himself completely. The anticipation was killing him, and he loved every second of it. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Aegon reach for his pants. You wanted to stop him, to tell him to keep everything off, but your mouth wouldn't cooperate. All you could do was watch silently as he teased you, slowly rising from the bed with a smirk on his face. "You're enjoying this," you accused, your voice sounding slightly hoarse. "You're loving the fact that you have me all flustered and worked up right now, aren't you? Just admit it." Aegon paused mid-movement, looking directly into your eyes as you spoke. He didn't respond verbally, but the glint in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. Yes, he was enjoying this. Every second of it. Without another word, he let out a low chuckle and shook his head. But instead of pulling up his pants, he did the exact opposite, letting them slide down just enough to expose more of his toned thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband teasingly, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. "And why would I deny it?" he asked, his voice smooth and seductive.

You watched with wide eyes as Aegon slowly peeled away his pants, revealing more of his golden expanse of skin. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, and your body reacting to the sight in ways that surprised you. You took a steadying breath, trying to regain some measure of control over yourself. "Because… because it's unfair," you finally managed to say, your voice low and slightly shaky. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, and it's not fair!" Aegon let out a low laugh, feeling his own excitement building. The way your pupils dilated as you looked at him. And there was no denying the way your body reacted to him, despite all your protests. He shrugged nonchalantly, letting his pants fall completely off his hips. Completely exposed now, he sat back against the pile of pillows behind him, making sure to give you a good view of his throbbing member. "Unfair or not," he said, grinning widely, "you're enjoying it too much to care."

Your eyes drifted down to Aegon's exposed member, and you gasped softly as you saw the evidence of his own arousal. Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your own desires in check. "That's not-" You cut yourself off, too flustered to argue. Dammit, he was right; you were enjoying this. Too much. You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to focus on his face instead of his body. "You're a tease, you know that?" You accused, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably. Aegon smirked at your accusation, knowing full well that he was being a complete tease. But damn, it felt good. He loved pushing buttons, especially when it came to someone as fiery as you. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted with a shrug. "But don't pretend like you hate it." As he spoke, his hands moved lower, wrapping around his shaft firmly. He gave it a few slow strokes, his thumb circling the sensitive tip as he watched your reaction carefully. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave lower as he continued to touch himself in front of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched Aegon's hands move over his own member. It was a blatant display of dominance, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much you were turned on by it, how wet you already were between your legs. "I…" You started, but cut yourself off, unable to form words. You crossed your arms under your breasts, squeezing them slightly as if trying to distract yourself from the show in front of you. You watched closely as Aegon started stroking himself, his words sending shivers down your spine. You hated to admit it, but you found yourself getting turned on by his boldness, his arrogance. It was infuriating, yet incredibly hot. Aegon watched as you struggled to find words, your heaving chest giving away your true feelings. He enjoyed watching you squirm, enjoyed knowing that he had this effect on you. It was power, pure and simple. He continued to stroke himself slowly, keeping his gaze locked onto yours. He could almost taste the frustration in the air between you two, and it only served to heighten his own arousal. "So tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "What are you going to do about it?"

Your entire body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. You couldn't tear your eyes away from Aegon's hand moving over his thick cock. God, you wanted it. Wanted him. But the arrogant bastard was enjoying this too much. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he was reveling in it. Your breath hitched again as he spoke, his deep voice sending another jolt straight to your core. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, you simply stood there, staring at him, your body trembling with need. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, hating how much you were affected by him. Aegon watched as you stood there, frozen in place, your body trembling with desire. He loved seeing you so conflicted, so frustrated. He loved knowing that he was the one causing those reactions in you. His hand slowed its pace, teasingly close to reaching the peak before stopping abruptly. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the conflict written all over your face. He relished in it, allowing himself a moment of silent satisfaction. "But isn't it better this way?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement. "Don't you prefer the chase?"

You gritted your teeth, feeling the ache between your legs growing stronger by the second. You couldn't stand it anymore. The way he was playing with himself, the way he was taunting you. The way he was enjoying it all. You were going crazy here. And then, without thinking, you reached down and touched yourself through your panties, rubbing your swollen clit in small circles. You moaned softly, biting your lip to stifle the sound nearly dropping your phone. Your body was screaming at you to take matters into your own hands, to go over there and straddle him, to ride him until you were both panting and spent. But something about that thought made your stomach twist with anticipation. Because even though he was a total asshole, there was no denying the chemistry between you. It was explosive, and it terrified you. Aegon's eyes flickered with surprise as he heard your soft moan, followed quickly by the sight of you touching yourself. His fingers tightened around his shaft instinctively, his other hand reaching up to adjust his position on the bed. He was rock hard, throbbing painfully with need. Seeing you touch yourself was enough to push him to the edge.

His breathing became ragged as he watched you, his own movements becoming erratic as he neared his climax. He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt his balls tighten and his orgasm building. He didn't stop you, didn't try to stop himself. Instead, he just lay there, letting you watch as he came undone. "Oh fuck," he muttered, his voice strained as he shot ropes of cum across his stomach, each spurt painting a perfect picture of his frustration and desire. Seeing Aegon come undone was more than enough to send you over the edge. You bit your lip to muffle your moans, your hips bucking against your hand as you rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, focusing on the sensation of your fingers rubbing against your soaked panties. When you finally came back to reality, you realized you were still on the video chat with Aegon. You felt mortified by what you'd done, but also oddly satisfied. There was no hiding the fact that you'd just gotten off to watching him masturbate. "I can't believe we just did that," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Aegon watched as you came apart on screen, your moans filling the room. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment. He'd done that to you, made you lose control. When you finally broke the silence, he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Believe it," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "And remember it too."

You glared at him, feeling humiliated and turned on all at once. Why did he have to be such an arrogant jerk? And why did he have to be so fucking attractive? You pulled your fingers out of your panties, bringing them up to your lips. Slowly, you sucked your fingers clean, savoring the taste of yourself while still on camera. You knew you were pushing things, but you couldn't resist the urge to torment him further. "And now, I'm going to get cleaned up," you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. Aegon watched as you sucked your fingers clean, his eyes wide with disbelief. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and he certainly hadn't expected that reaction. But he wasn't about to complain. If anything, it only served to fuel his own desires. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your little show," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Because I don't think you're ever going to forget it."

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you weren't going to forget any of it. Ever. Especially not the taste of yourself on your fingers. It was strangely erotic, and it sent shivers down your spine. You needed to cool off, and fast. But you couldn't deny that the whole situation was turning you on. More than you cared to admit. "Just keep telling yourself that," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you hung up the call. You grabbed your towel and headed towards the shower, your body still trembling from the orgasm he'd given you. And damn if it didn't make you want more. But you weren't about to let him know that. Aegon's grin widened as he heard your breathy sarcasm. You were playing hard to get, and he loved it. It added an extra layer of intrigue to the conversation.

~I was just thinking about our last conversation…and how much fun we had.~ He wrote, adding a playful wink emoji. ~And well…I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking things offline. Perhaps meeting up sometime? Just you and me?~

[felicjana050896]

Maximus - the main antagonist in the series?

I finally watched Fallout and I want to comment on one thing, apart from the whole Cooper and Lucy relationship, because there are a lot of analyzes on Tumblr and Twitter (after watching the series, I will immediately rewatch it to find some additional hints, and if not, it's just for fun, because the series for me... was a masterpiece, it's been a long time since I couldn't break away from the series like I did from Fallout, especially since I was playing games, so it was wonderful to feel this atmosphere again, to sum up the sentiment completely took me far away...), so I'll just link some of these analyzes and hints here, in case someone hasn't read it:

It's 100% CGI, you can see how at the end that thread moves completely unnaturally, there's no way it's real, it had to be CGI and it had to be for something, it makes no sense to add such a little, tiny detail with CGI after nothing..., after all, money is spent on it, it's one thing to write "I love you" in the background, and another thing is to make a heart out of thread using CGI... (at least that's what I think, I don't know anything about CGI, but even such a small thing must cost a bit... :D )

Apart from the fact that Max and Lucy have practically no foreshadowings and no chemistry, and they DON'T KNOW each other at all, because their whole relationship is based on "I met a nice girl/boy and I think I like her/him", because let's be honest, there is no talk about love here, they liked each other because Max helped Lucy with the radiation and Lucy helped Max get out of the armor, they helped each other and were nice to each other, that's all... but it's not enough to talk about love, liking each other yes, but not about love (I'm surprised when people, for example on Twitter, write that Max and Lucy love each other, where...???) and as I mentioned above, they don't know each other, they know practically nothing about themselves, about their plans, dreams, tastes, perception of the world, etc., they know nothing about each other, they have barely met, and their entire relationship is based on the fact that in this world it is simply difficult to have any other person, so they instinctively grab whatever comes first. Lucy dreamed of getting married and having children, she was taught to focus on the ,,survival of the species", her whole wedding was pure ,,politics", and in the end it turned out that she married a bandit who then tried to kill her, while Maximus probably never didn't think about these matters, surrounded by practically only guys and focused on military life..., so their entire relationship is based on: ,,he's/she's nice, ok, I'll take it", that's why their relationship seems rushed and has zero chemistry , so in my opinion it is not a bad writing (like with Chaggie from Hazbin Hotel in my opinion), it is supposed to be like that and it makes logical sense, as I have already presented above, this relationship is supposed to be quick and without chemistry, because it is supposed to show their standards, how low they are, in this world... and Cooper, on the other hand, comes from a completely different world...

By the way, unlike Max and Lucy, who nevertheless spend some time together while traveling sensibly, we don't see any specific conversations between them that could bring them closer to each other, as I wrote above, they don't know each other and in fact they don't even try to get to know themselves, while in the case of Cooper and Lucy, Lucy constantly asks Cooper questions, and sometimes he answers (in fact, not directly, but he answers), they have a conversation about torture, Lucy asks Cooper why he is like this, why he continues this ( scene with cannibalism), Lucy asks what he is (water scene), etc., Lucy asks Cooper questions, wants to get to know him, wants to learn more about him, and he also learns more about her through her talkativeness (e.g. the initial scene when Cooper and Lucy meet for the first time and Lucy tries to diplomatically calm him down, or the scene when Lucy gives Cooper the vials), Cooper and Lucy have already gotten to know each other more than Max and Lucy, and now Lucy has gone with Cooper....

But leaving Cooper and Lucy, because this post is not about them, let's move on to Max..., Max, who in my opinion has a great predisposition to become the main or at least one of the main (because the most main may be those from Vault-Tec) antagonists in series, why....

At the beginning, I was positive towards Max, unlike Lucy, who seemed naive and stupid to me at the beginning, and I don't like such characters (of course, I liked Cooper from the very beginning, after all, Hancock was my Fallout husband in Fallout 4 ;) ), and then she surprised me in the scene with her husband, when she ,,killed" him (almost, but still), I didn't expect such a change in the character at all..., later she surprised me by the fact that she is not as stupid as she seemed in the in the beginning, yes she is naive but not stupid, she just had to get out of the bubble called the Vault and I can't wait to see how her character will evolve in season 2 after all this and being together with Cooper..., I want to see her show her claws..., I want to see even more how, under this guise of a naive girl, there is actually a strong and dangerous woman who can cope on her own and is still fair and honorable..., I love such characters :) , but I had a different experience with Max, whom I liked at the beginning, but the further into the forest, the more I felt like ,,guy, you make more and more stupid decisions, what's wrong with you...", at the beginning Max seemed to me as reasonable, honorable, fair and a real soldier, and at the end I only saw him as an unreasonable 15-year-old boy making stupid, irresponsible and evil decisions with his own ego problem... sorry, but this character gave me the vibe at the end that he would go towards darkness, and when he finds out that Lucy is allied with Cooper..., a guy he fought and who completely defeated and humiliated him..., a guy who, by the way, he hasn't seen since that fight..., Cooper and Max haven't had any interaction in the show apart from this fight, so Max has absolutely no knowledge that Cooper is ,,in the game", and that Lucy could have gone with him at all, he's probably already forgotten about him, and when he remembers..., I'm really curious about his reaction....

The first and most important thing about Maximus in the series... in season one, when asked why he joined the brotherhood, he replies that to ,,hurt the people who hurt me"... that's not a praiseworthy answer..., this is not a good answer..., sure, I understand the issue of revenge etc., but as good and golden rules teach (speaking of Lucy's golden rules, because she sticks to them and this is what distinguishes her from, above all, Maximus) revenge brings no good..., Lucy, despite everything, didn't want to take revenge on Moldaver, even though many people she knew died because of her, her father was kidnapped, and she almost died, she didn't want to take revenge on her, of course, she was out of her own turf and surrounded by enemies, but still, her goal was to free her father, not revenge, while Max's goal is simply revenge, he doesn't want to, for example, rebuild Shady Sands or be a good knight who helps people, bring peace to this world, NO, he just wants revenge..., he wants to become a knight for his own selfish purposes, not for other people, while Lucy does things for other people, wants to free her father, helps Wilzig, worries about dog while Cooper is dragging her, helping Cooper with the vials, helping the ghouls (of course she didn't know and probably wouldn't understand that they were wild, her intentions were good, and that something bad came out of it is something she couldn't have known at that moment), she also helps in vault 4 when she first thinks something bad is happening there, and then she tells Max to return the core and kills his mother out of mercy, just like Cooper killed Roger (I think at this point, after the incident with wild ghouls, Lucy understood what Cooper did then and that it was good after all), Lucy does everything to help people and live according to the golden rules, while Max is selfish and thinks only about himself, leaving aside the issue of revenge, he also says that he wanted something bad to happen to Dane, of course he didn't really do anything to them, but he wanted something bad to happen to them... what kind of person do you have to be to want them to become your best friend harm, just because they got what you wanted..., from the very beginning the series shows us not to have any illusions about Maximus and that he is not really and will not be a good guy...., he let Titus die and sure, the guy was a dick and I would probably get angry too and want to kill him, but kill him anyway... quickly... while from what we see, Max just lets Titus die slowly, I don't know about you, but for me there is a difference between killing someone quickly because he deserved it, and letting it happen and WAITING AROUND him until he slowly dies... that was cruel... I would understand if Max killed him, but he KILLED, he showed some humanity despite everything, even though the guy deserved to die, and he didn't wait next to him and listen to him slowly die... it was evil....

Then, when he has armor, he enters a situation with a guy who raped a chicken (Cooper would be really angry :D ) and instead of learning the whole situation, calming them down and finding out what's going on, who is right, he immediately takes the side of the one who is oppressed, thus oppressing the one who is actually right, takes him brutally by the hair and is happy about it..., seriously..., you are happy about this situation..., even if he were helping a good person, I don't think so that there is something to be happy about here..., although what I really think he enjoys is the power, the power that the armor gives him..., this is bad again... if someone likes the feeling of power so much, power and control, it always reflects badly on him..., then (after painfully holding the innocent man all the time) he throws the guy to the ground and when the other explains the situation that took place, Maximus doesn't even apologize..., he is only distracted and then says, ,,Okay. On your way, citizen." what..., as if you hadn't hurt this ,,citizen" a moment ago and didn't judge him badly..., not at all, there's nothing to apologize for here..., it's better to go on your way..., God..., this was the scene from which my opinion about Maximus slowly started to go down, because even with Titus I still made excuses for him (even if it was cruel), but from that moment Maximus with starting with my grade of his character as ,,4+", at the end of the series he dropped to a grade of ,,2-" and it's not that this is a poorly written character, NO, in my opinion it is a very well-written character, just a bad character man and I mean assessing his humanity, not the creators' writing, because in my opinion it is very good :)

In addition, of course, we have the issue that he lies to everyone that he is Titus because he wants to be a knight and clearly wants people to admire him (again, the issue of his ego), at the beginning he clearly wants to kill Thaddeus in cold blood, but then he changes his mind (apart from what killing Thaddeus would give you..., even if you came back with the head, you would be responsible for two deaths..., come on...), then of course he tries to kill him again after he tells him the truth..., then we have the Vault 4 arc in episode 6 and halfway through the episode when Max goes to the armor that is in the room, he looks at him through the glass with a stupid smile, he turns around and with that smile and behavior, with his body movements, he looks to me like he told them ,,See, this is my armor, this is me, I'm a knight"... it looks as if he wanted someone to come up to him and ask him about it, and he could brag about how cool he is, because I really don't know how else to read this short scene...:

Sorry for the poor quality, I did it on my phone.

then he turns back to the armor and his facial expression changes, he frowns:

and we have a close-up of the entrance to the core, and Maximus sees the guy next to him screwing in a light bulb and asking where it came from they take electricity, he goes to that place and wants to take their fusion core..., literally at that moment he wants to brazenly steal their fusion core, the people who helped them and cured him, he wants to take away their only source of energy..., or Maximum is so stupid that he doesn't know that this is literally their source of survival and thinks that they can cope without him, although it's still vile and I don't believe it, or Maximus is just a vile, evil and selfish man who doesn't matter with no one else but himself and what would make him feel good..., just look at his face at this moment...:

he knows that he is doing something he shouldn't and he is clearly doing it with full premeditation...

later in the plot, in episode 7, when Maximus sees the inhabitants of Vault 4 doing something to Lucy, which Maximus does..., of course he doesn't find out about the whole situation first, he doesn't try to eavesdrop on what they're talking about or anything, he just rushes in in armor and starts attacking everyone around, seriously... how stupid and irresponsible it was of him, I won't even mention... and when they finally release them, which Maximus does..., he takes the armor with the core with him, without thinking that it is their only source of energy and, what's most funny, he doesn't want to give it back..., NO, he wants to keep it so he can walk around in his big armor and show everyone "look how great I am!", says that he needs a core for his armor, and without the armor he won't be a knight, Lucy tells him that a knight shouldn't steal, and Max replies ,,with this armor, I can help people", how have you helped people so far..., you let escape a chicken rapist..., besides, what kind of help is it if, in order to provide this help to people, you steal something that will put other innocent people at risk of death..., you can't build something good on something bad, poisonous roots, will give poisonous fruit, no other way..., then the best thing is..., because be careful... he is trying to MANIPULATE HER! Yes..., this guy who supposed wants to be good, noble, fair..., no wait..., he wants to be a knight to take revenge..., nevermind..., it's up to him anyway fits..., he manipulates her, playing on her feelings, telling her that he wants to help her find her father and asks her if she would give up the core if it meant she wouldn't get her dad back, if it was up to the core to get her father back..., only then Lucy convinces him to give up the core when she says that if his father found out about it, it would break his heart and that she can't do that, only then Maximus gives up on convincing her and decides to give up the core. Lucy is his moral compass here, and it's possible that she would put him back on the right path if she were with him, but in the end, Lucy chooses Cooper and leaves with him.

To sum up... where do people who ship Lucy and Max have this good and beloved Max... where... where is Max a better person and a better match for Lucy than Cooper... (because I saw some comments under some episodes of the series that ,,Ghoul is evil and Max is good and honorable"), so far Max makes more bad decisions and does it with full premeditation and/or out of his own stupidity..., when Cooper, when he does something, it has a purpose..., he never does anything without a reason, yes, he shot Roger, but he did it out of mercy, first he made Roger remember the good times, so that in those last moments he died happily (this is one of my favorite scenes, if not my favorite, it was sweet and touching despite the situation...), he shoots Wilzig, but in the foot, probably so that he won't just run away, it's not to kill him, since he probably at that moment he thinks that he has to deliver him alive, because it is only from Wilzig that Lucy learns that only his head is enough, not himself, he kills people in the town, but only those who attacked him, he doesn't go around houses and doesn't kill random people..., kills "guards" who were bad for him, and one obviously wanted to kill him, but he doesn't kill their boss, interestingly..., he kills, of course, three guys at the beginning who are also ready to kill him and they want to force him to work for them, after practically lying in a coffin underground for 30 years, he kills the farmer's son, when the son reaches for a gun, you can see here how Cooper is poking this son to see if he is capable of doing it, but he himself doesn't reach for the gun until this son reaches for it, Cooper always wants to know, to be sure whether the man he is killing really deserves it, whether there is really a point in killing him, unlike Maximus, who never finds out who he is really guilty, he prefers to just ,,go with the wave" and he orders the one he finds guilty at first glance, he even wants to kill Thaddeus at the beginning (of course he doesn't do it in the end, but he wants to) even though the guy hasn't done any harm to him yet (and bullying ,,at school" is not a good reason to kill, it's not a reason at all), and he's not torturing Lucy like some still claim, even though Cooper himself and the entire scene says he's using her as bait, not torturing her, and yet there are still people who say he's torturing her here..., really I know that some people sometimes have trouble reading the situation on the screen, but when the entire situation on the screen screams "BAIT!" and the character who uses the bait says directly that he thinks torture doesn't work and uses her as bait, like one can still claim that there is some torture in this scene..., are there really people who cannot hear and see things that are said directly..., how..., Cooper used to be a good guy and he still is, deep down, he's still that good guy. When there is a scene from the past when Cooper has to play a slightly worse guy on camera to show that his character also makes mistakes, he doesn't want to do it, he doesn't like it, because in his opinion a good person should be good and not make such mistakes, Lucy will direct him back to the right path, and he will teach her a little about life, this is the perfect dynamic of two different, yet very similar characters who can and do influence each other's development.

And I don't know about you, but for me this scene is terrifying:

this whole brotherhood is like a religious sect, and at this moment Maximus has become a kind of prophet and that look in his eyes...:

for me it is disappointment combined with the desire revenge, disappointment because he found out that the father of the girl he liked is responsible for the destruction of his house and probably the death of his relatives (we never have memories of Maximus' relatives, which is interesting, so it is not certain), and he managed to escape, and the desire I don't think I need to explain revenge... Maximus' plot in season one starts with revenge and ends with revenge, it's his plot, whether someone likes it or not... and in my opinion, as a result of everything I have described, he will change into an increasingly worse person, he was not good from the beginning and will only get worse....

This is a long post, as usual for me... unfortunately, I don't know how to write short... and besides, I like it when all the details are brought to light :) , that's the end, thank you for reading and have a nice day/evening/night :)

[yuurei20]

Hi, I'm working on a theory for Ramshackle and MC. Have the creators said why Queen of Hearts/Scar/etc. were chosen for the Great Seven? ((Also, why did MC become the prefect of Ramshackle and not the Housewarden?))

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question, it became a rabbit hole!

Yana had this to say about the villains who were used for inspiration (from the game guide):

"The number one reason is that they are all from 'masterpieces with which everyone is familiar'. They are all legendary—you need only say the movie titles and the characters come immediately to mind.

Since they are also legends in their own right, we thought it would be good to choose stories with a long history, and that is how we settled on these seven.

There are many other movies with fascinating villains, so it was a very difficult decision."

-Twst Game Guide (2020)

She also goes into detail about the different eras during which the movies were set, which may also have influenced which were selected! More here! (Youtube)

But there may be more going on than we have been told 👀 There are theories that "death" is another theme that links the dorms together!

All members of the Great Seven were villains that either died in their movies (Scar, Ursula, Maleficent, Jafar (in the second movie), the Evil Queen), or were never alive in the human sense to begin with (Queen of Hearts, Hades).

Death has never been a subtle theme in Twst, with new students at NRC arriving via coffins.

Kalim observes that, with the ceremonial robes they wear to orientation, "it's like we're attending a funeral."

And there are also the ghosts!

While it seems possible to be born as a ghost (according to Crowley and Eliza), Lilia says that ghosts "linger here due to powerful attachments or personal motives...they aren't visible outside of magically suffused locations like Night Raven College," and that they "linger" by choice.

And this brings back to the prefect!

In the manga, all three prefects that we have seen thus far have had names connected to the afterlife:

・Heartslabyul Arc, Enma Yuuken (円満 雄剣): Enma's family name is pronounced the same (the kanji is different) as 閻魔 (Enma), the king of hell in Buddhism. From the Kyoto National Museum website: "The King of Buddhist Hell is Enma, who is also the judge of the afterlife."

・Savanaclaw Arc, Hirasaka Yuuka (比良坂 悠河): "Hirasaka" is written and pronounced the same as the hirasaka of Yomotsu-hira Saka, known as "The Entrance to the Underworld" in Shintoism, explained on Shimane Prefecture's official tourism website: "Yomotsu-hira Saka appears as the boundary between the land of the dead and the land of the living."

・Octavinelle Arc, Mito Yuuta (三途 宥太): "Mito" uses the same kanji as 三途川, the "River of Three Crossings," which is "a mythological river the souls of the deceased must cross by one of three crossing points." Credit to blogger Tansho for the discovery that "River Styx" was changed to 三途川 in the Japanese-language dub of the "Hercules" TV show.

So there is definitely a theme of the prefect filling a role between life and death!

While one theory is that the prefect ended up in Twisted Wonderland after they died (in the manga it is insinuated that all three prefects were hit by vehicles directly before waking up at NRC), another theory is that they're not quite dead yet.

If that is the case then they may be close (Grim wakes them up prematurely, and Crowley says that this is his first time having a student who opened their "gate" (coffin) on their own) and they might just be an astral projection of someone who is between life and death, appearing at the magically suffused location that is NRC.

In other words, a ghost 👀

The manga is following a theme of naming its characters something involving "Yuu" (which is always the students' nickname for them) and "Yuu" is also commonly adopted as the default-name for the game's prefect.

Another word that involves a "Yuu" sound is 幽霊 (Yuurei), which means: ghost :>

(Hence the name of this blog! It is the very chuunibyou name of a twitter account I made in 2018 to complain about my job. This potential connection to Twst was completely unintentional and makes me laugh.)

As for why the prefect was named Prefect of Ramshackle dorm instead of Housewarden: I am not sure! But it seems to have something to do with the unique situation that is the prefect's role.

They have not technically been assigned to the overseeing of the dorm as a whole, just to Grim, so maybe that is why? :>

And it is particularly interesting as that means that the role of Housewarden of Ramshackle Dorm is still open--maybe to be filled some day...? 👀

[zombiethingy]

it took some time to realize

Written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘shower’

And with special thanks to @griefabyss69 for betaing! 💜

Title from 'Alive' by Engrave

wc: 399 | rated: T (for language) tags: Eddie lives, concert, mosh pit, hopeful ending cw: references to depression [AO3 link]

Eddie feels alive again.

It's a fucking miracle.

It's already a miracle that he is alive and not simply a rotting corpse in the hellscape of the upside down. While his body was dragged out of there, patched back together, and made to breathe and pump blood on its own again, part of his psyche didn't get the memo and decided to play dead anyway.

Most days, he feels like doing nothing but rot – on the couch, in the new house, still feeling like a walking dead guy.

But not today. Today he's standing next to Steve in a sea of people, all screaming along to the lyrics of his favorite song. The infectious energy slowly seeps into him, making him want to be alive and move for the first time in what feels like forever. Then the crowd behind him parts, getting ready to let all hell loose, and he's itching to dive right into the pit – pushing, jumping, moving around with everyone in there – and just be alive with them.

Steve must feel it because he puts his hand on Eddie's arm, giving him a look and a little shake of his head, before he has to turn back around to intercept the first person stumbling into him and sending them back into the romping bodies.

Right, his body still isn't really healed either. It stings a little – but only until the next person comes hurtling towards them, and then it's Eddie's turn to push them back in, and another one right after.

Eventually he's content with being on the edge of the pit, side by side with Steve, protecting the crowd behind them and absorbing the energy of the people colliding together in front of them.

He could have gone without catching a shower of something – it has to be beer, he tells himself – just at the end of the song; it's easily forgotten when the next song in the set is an acoustic version of another masterpiece, when he gets goosebumps from how it makes him feel after being numb for so long.

Especially when Steve shuffles closer during the first verse, bumping his equally moist shoulder into Eddie's and reaches out to link their hands.

And he's never been so alive as when Steve – the miracle worker himself – sings the refrain at him, around the loveliest smile, promising more miraculous things yet to come.

[arogaba]

This legacy is based on the same one by @sweetlysimss who very graciously gave me permission to try my hand at converting the challenge for TS3. It's not perfect but I tried my best to stick to the original rules and try and make it fun!

Tag: #nsbxbpr should be fine still or @ me if you do try this out!

Rules:

This challenge can be played with vanilla, banilla, or berry sims

As per the challenges this is based on, the romance options are a mix between those in the BPR or NSB, allowing  you to choose which you’d like (or mix them up if you wish!)

There is an optional generational challenge to paint/take a photo of your heir for every generation

The generational requirements do not need to be strictly followed/can be changed as you see fit - the important thing is to have fun!

Generation 1: White

You come from a long line of privileged sims. Life was easy for you and you never wanted for nothing. Despite the easy life, you also felt constricted, unable to be yourself. Now that you’re a young adult, you decide to break free from your parents and pursue your own dreams. Packing your bags, and taking enough money to get by with you, you run away to the old, rundown, farmhouse that the only grandparent you cared for left you in the will. Starting off with nearly nothing to your name, you decide to pursue the hobby you were never allowed to chase to its extent: painting. Due to your upbringing, you find it difficult to let other sims in and may come across as rude sometimes. What you really need is that one special sim to make you feel like it’s all worth it. Slowly but surely, as the years go by, your own family starts to grow, but life is not without its ups and downs…

Recommended traits: artistic, snob, grumpy, hopeless romantic

Career: none; make money through your paintings, fishing, and harvestables

Move into your grandparent’s old house. Must be fairly basic/rustic (the size of the house/lot is up to you)

Max the painting, gardening, and logic skills

Have multiple romantic interests throughout your life, but do not settle permanently with any of them until after you have your first child.

Go on at least one date with a purple, pink, and/or a red sim

Have one child

Get married (does not have to be the parent of your child)

Become enemies with the other sims you did not end up with

Have one more child (can be adopted or an alien baby if you wish!)

Sell at least two masterpiece paintings

Have at least two animals in your household

Optional: raise one from its youngest lifestage all the way through to elder

Be good friends with all your children and animals

Become good friends with at least one grandchild

-

Generation 2: Purple/Pink/Red

Although not everyone would believe you, you would say you had a great childhood. You grew up sheltered but loved by your parents and sibling. From a young age, you had a great passion for reading and books, though all those days spent reading might have left you with a few unrealistic expectations about life. Despite everything, you are eager to see everything that life has to offer and a sudden once-in-a-lifetime trip might change your world forever…

Recommended traits: bookworm, computer whiz, great kisser, irresistible, family oriented

Career: writer

Max the painting and writing skills

Optional: master the charisma skill too

Shortly after you become a YA go to one of the WA worlds or travel to the future. Your time here winds up inspiring you for the rest of your life

Become a writer

Either become a genre specialist or write a book from every genre

Kiss at least five different sims in your life

Leave a sim at the alter (peach or yellow)

Must have had at least two children with this sim

Have a difficult relationship with at least one of your children after the separation from your ex-partner

Have at least 3 children with any other sim (or the sim you eventually marry)

Do not marry until you are an elder

The sim you marry must be yellow or peach (whichever was not the colour of your first spouse)

The sim you marry must be in the culinary career

-

Generation 3: Peach/Yellow

It is fair to say that you grew up in quite a hectic household. The only person who spends time with you and truly understands you is your childhood best friend. The two have you been through thick and thin. They were initially drawn to you for your quiet nature, your inquisitive soul, and a passion for nature inherited from your grandparent. In your late teens, you start to notice those traits are working against you, causing others to call you “weird” or “different”, so you adapted. However, in the process of becoming this new version of yourself, you find yourself losing the one thing you ever held dead. Will you ever get your best friend back? Only time will tell…

Recommended traits: loner, shy, brooding, disciplined, athletic

Career: professional sports and then unemployed when you become an adult (though you can supplement your household funds with your collections)

Max the painting, athletic, and martial arts skills

As a child join the boy/girl scouts, and then join one of the afterschool clubs as a teenager

As a child meet your best friend in a different neighbourhood (orange or grey)

As a teen, never have any close friends except for your best friend and any of your grandparents if they are still alive

As a teen, date your childhood best friend

As a young adult, you decide to change your life around and become the social, popular sim you’ve always wanted to be

Join the professional sports career

You and your best friend begin to drift apart and eventually separate

Not long after they leave, you realise you are pregnant

You date around but nothing lasts

Complete one or more of the following collections: metals, gems, insects, fish, or plants

Do not have a good relationship with your child until they are a teenager

After becoming an adult, quit your career in sports but continue to make money by selling your collections

As an adult, reconcile with your childhood best friend

Optional: have one more child

Get married

-

Generation 4: Orange/Grey

Unlike your parents, you are far more practical when it comes to your life choices - or so you like to claim. After getting interested in your grandparent’s large book collection, you become interested in the occult, in particular witches. A mysterious book leads you to become a witch accidentally and soon strange things start to happen. Before you know it your great-grandparent has come back from the dead! In flesh and blood! How on Earth did that happen? As you begin to figure things out for yourself, a mysterious stranger takes an interest in your so called necromancy…

Recommended traits: bookworm, supernatural fan, artistic, night owl, gatherer

Career: fortune telling (you can supplement your household funds by selling potions/ingredients)

Max the painting and alchemy skills

Get a job in the fortune telling career

Date three sims but never get serious with any of them

One of these sims lead to you becoming a witch

Create every potion

Bring back your great-grandparent (up to you how this is done - you can cheat or use any of the methods in game)

Become at least good friends with them

Your necromancy catches the interest of a local doctor (yellow or purple) and you fall in love

Have at least five children together

Teach all your children their skills

-

Generation 5: Purple/Yellow

The world has so many beautiful sights to offer! You can’t wait to paint them, photograph them, or sculpt them! Your life seems to be going perfectly until one day it isn’t. One day you wake up questioning yourself, your career, even your partner! Don’t you deserve better? Of course you do! You decide to switch your life around first thing in the morning. but was it really the right choice to make?

Recommended traits: artistic, avant garde, good, excitable, savvy sculptor, photographer’s eye

Career: painter or sculptor

Max the painting skill, plus the sculpting and/or photography skills

Go to university and achieve a fine arts degree

Be enemies with at least one sibling

Start a relationship with a former classmate (orange or green)

Have at least one child

After becoming an adult, a midlife crisis hits you hard

Quit your job

End the relationship with your partner or divorce them. Afterwards, you continue to have a good relationship with them

Find a new job and skill to focus on as an adult

start a new relationship with a different orange or green sim (whichever colour was not your first partner)

Have at least one child

-

Generation 6: Orange/Green

Food is love. Crime is life. Doting parent and aspiring cook by day, criminal by night. Have you ever heard of a baking criminal? Neither have you, but someone should be the first. You have loved cooking and baking from a young age, though struggled to find your feet in the culinary career. When you leave at night your family think you are working at a swanky restaurant in town, little do they know you’re actually working for the most notorious criminal organisation in town! You prove yourself to be a hard worker but you know when to slack off and have fun. You make it a habit to visit every seasonal festival…with the bonus of getting some flirty looks from the cute sim in the crowds. 

Recommended traits: artistic, natural cook, kleptomaniac, party animal

Career: criminal

Max the painting, mixology, and cooking skills

Learn all recipes (can just stick the base game ones if you wish)

Meet your spouse (teal or pink) at one of the festivals and become instantly smitten

Have at least two children. Twins are recommended!

One child must have the good trait, one must have the evil trait

Make at least three enemies

Steal something worth at least 10,000 simoleons

-

Generation 7: Teal/Pink

You and your sibling have been together through thick and thin. You are polar opposites but are as close as can be. From a young age, the two have you have always been competing with each other. Regrettably, they always seem to be the one in the spotlight, whereas you are left floundering in the dark. What you do excel at though is school and eventually, your career. You take a job in a rather niche area, one which raises a few eyebrows for certain, but you throw your whole heart into it. Let’s see who’s the best now!

Recommended traits: artistic, good or evil, family oriented, virtuoso

Be taught all your skills as a toddler

Be on the honour roll as a child and teenager

Have three good friends from school

As a young adult, join one of the ‘entertainer’ careers: musician, singer, acrobat, magician

Master at least one instrument

Fall in love with a fellow entertainer (blue or peach)

Partner must max the guitar

Have at least two children

-

Generation 8: Blue/Peach

Music runs in your veins, you enjoy it but it is not where your true passion lies. As a young sim, you’ve always been into drama, stories, and theatre. However, the town you live in doesn’t take too kindly to people who are different, flamboyant, and attention-seeking. As a young adult, you move to a new town and throw yourself into the world of celebrities, drama, and paparazzi.

Recommended traits: charismatic, diva, dramatic, artistic

Career: film star

Master the painting and charisma skills

Join the drama club as a teenager

As a young adult, move to a new town and move to an apartment

Join the movie career

Marry a co-worker or neighbour who is also a celebrity (lavender or green)

Have at least one child

Divorce them once you surpass them as a celebrity

Become a vampire before you become a YA to preserve your looks

Have at least one child after your marriage

This child needs to have the white gen one hair colour

They will become your heir

Become a five star celebrity

Either ruin or maintain a good reputation

After becoming a five star celebrity, reconnect with your ex

Have a negative relationship with your sibling(s)

-

Generation 9: Lavender/Green 

Phew! What a ride that was! Eight whole generations have come before you, all with their own unique interests, drama, and dreams. You, however, want to take it easy. You surround yourself with simple things, friends and family, and your garden. You love the earth and want to preserve it for future generations. What will the universe have in store for you next?

Recommended traits: friendly, good, green thumb, artistic, eco friendly 

Career: gardener or inventor - maybe even both!

Max the painting and gardening skills

Move to a small, simplistic house with a garden

Have at least three friends and three enemies

Throw a party at least once a season for your family and close friends 

Accept every invitation for a party

Marry one of your best friends (colour is up to you!)

Try and live an eco-friendly lifestyle

Adopt at least one child

Teach your children all their skills

[theobsidianpage]

Something wicked this way comes...

20 moody writing prompts compiled from William Shakespeare's Macbeth: [I would love for you to tag me if you post any writing pulled from or inspired by this list, so I can read all of your amazing work! <3]

Image: Karl Bryullov, The Last Day of Pompeii (detail), 1830–3.

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires."

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o'er wrought heart and bids it break."

"What's done cannot be undone."

"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."

"I have no words; My voice is in my sword."

"Confusion now hath made his masterpiece."

"Better to be with the dead, whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy."

"The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love."

"Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell."

"The night is long that never finds the day."

"Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end."

"There is nothing serious in morality."

"Tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy."

"Sometimes when we are labelled, when we are branded, our brand becomes our calling."

"...who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?"

"I have supped full with horrors."

"...oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the Instruments of Darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray us in deepest consequence."

"No, not even fit to live..."

"...I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm is often laudable, to do good sometime accounted dangerous folly."

"Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make love known?"

[oceaneyesinla]

This was written in honour of Softie Sunday, thank you for the inspiration Rei!!!! <3 @peachsukii

Never Stop (Wedding Version) by SafetySuit was running through my head when I wrote that ending - it's such a sweet song 🥹

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Shoto knows you're working on ... something; he can hear your happy little giggles every so often, and he can practically feel the joy radiating off you from across the garden. You asked him not to peek, though, and so he doesn't - content to bask in your presence from afar while he builds the new garden table you both picked out the week before.

Of course you had offered to help him, sweet eyes worried as you fretted over him and lips slipping into a little pout. He insisted you rest though - you're still sporting an ankle brace after a nasty fall during a villain fight, and he's determined to make sure that you don't lift a single finger while you're recovering. He can still remember the sheer terror that shot through him as he watched you fall; eyes closed and limbs limp. It was only minutes until Denki confirmed he had you and you were alive, but it felt like a lifetime when he was waiting to hear whether his world was falling apart or not.

He pushes the memory aside - there's no need to focus on what could have happened, when he has everything he ever wanted right here. You're safe, humming to yourself in the garden of the house you bought together, and he can't help the smile that lifts up his lips as he thinks about you and the future the two of you are building.

He doesn't need to be facing you to know when you move; after this long, he has a sixth sense when it comes to you. You're coming closer, and he can picture your pretty smile in his mind - it's the one you always wear when you look his way, sweet and soft and full of all the love he knows in his soul you feel for him. He's doubted a lot in his life, but he'll never doubt your devotion - not when he's equally as adoring.

He's crouched down, screwing one of the wood sections into place and he feels you press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head before you place something on top of his head, your fingers brushing ever so gently against his hair. Placing his tools down on the grass, he twists to look up at you, falling in love all over again with the bright spark in your eyes and the happy grin splitting your face. You look beautiful, the afternoon sunlight surrounding you in a golden glow.

Pushing up to standing, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose then your forehead, relishing the little giggle it pulls out of you. Your arms wrap around him and he swears he can see hearts in your eyes as you look at him - probably reflecting the ones in his own.

A few stray strands of hair are falling into your face, and he brushes them away with a featherlight touch, "Are you planning to tell me what you put on my head, or should I start guessing?"

You look delighted, "I made you a little present. You look so pretty!"

You're pulling out your phone and a few taps later, you hold it out to him, camera open so he can see himself. His head is adorned with a crown of wildflowers - you must have been sitting in the patch of them next to the house. It's your favourite part of the garden, and he can just imagine you there, legs criss crossed and bathed in sunlight.

"It's beautiful, love. It would suit you better, though." It always makes his chest feel ready to burst when you do things like this - treating him like he's a masterpiece created by an artisan, like he's something to be cherished.

"Nuh uh! It suits you, Sho!" Your smile is brighter than the sunlight surrounding you both, "How is the table going? Do you need anything?"

He reaches up to his head, lifting the flower crown with infinite care, as if he's holding the most delicate pottery, and placing it on your head, pressing another kiss to the skin just underneath where it sits when he's done, "Only you."

His heart speeds up when you smile up at him, and he will never get used to you. He doesn't want to, either. He wants to feel this way about you every single day for the rest of his life. Under the sunlight, in the garden of your new home, he's certain he always will.

@pixelcafe-network

[charliedawn]

Hi! I have a request! (I won't be mad if you choose not to write it, you do you)

Since the slashers can't leave the facility, how would they take you on a date? I feel like Freddy would take you on a date in your dreams, etc. Please include Penny! He's my favorite!!! Love your work, and hope you have a blessed day! ❤️

Penny would make a whole world appear just for you. He is not as powerful within the hospital as he’d normally be, but he could still make a pretty good illusion for you.

He’d probably make you see what you want and make sure you have as much fun as possible. He’d dig into your head for all of your most personal desires.

He’d also take as many opportunities to know you better and satisfy his curiosity as to why you’d ever want him too.

Penny *tilts his head curiously at you* : "Humans are so odd. Your hearts beat so loudly when you are afraid…But, yours has a different sound to it."

You *surprised* : "Really ? How does it sound ?"

Him *presses his ear against your chest to hear it closer and closes his eyes* : "…Different." *giggles* "Good different."

Arts and crafts. Jason love carving wood and making bird houses. He brought his passions with him when he first entered St Louis. He’d be excited to show you his masterpieces and show you how to do it.

You’d be sitting side by side while using your hands to try multiple different shapes, but would be careful as to not let you get hurt with the knife when you’d try to carve things.

Jason *smiles proudly while showing you his last wooden piece of work*

Jason isn’t comfortable sharing anything about himself so…It’d be a huge honour. He’d also show you his collection of frogs and let you pet them if you want.

He’d also hold your hand and show you his face if you’d want.

Jack is a pretty standard guy when it comes to dating. He was kind of the popular kid and did date a lot in his younger years.

He’d normally go for the classic cinema and restaurant. But, as he is trapped in the hospital…He’d do with what he’s got.

Netflix and chill.

He’d ask the other slashers not disturb the both of you as you take over the TV room and eat snacks together.

Jack *pretending to be yawning before lowering his arm over your shoulders to caress the skin with his thumb*

You *smile knowingly* : "Really ?"

Him *smiles and shrugs* : "…Hey. Am a big fan of the old technics…is it working ?"

You *smile before leaning back against him* : "~Maybe."

Pennywise would let you drag him anywhere, but he’s the type to not like big crowds so…the fact that he can’t go out won’t really be a problem.

He’d be just as happy staying inside and have some time with you. But, don’t expect him to have many date ideas.

Pennywise never dated anyone before, so he’d just let you decide or let you sleep on his lap. Tops.

However, he may sing you to sleep.

And his voice is really soothing when he hums while rocking back and forth on his rocking chair.

Pennywise *starts humming while holding you close and stroking your hair*

You : "…I thought you didn’t like people touching you ?"

Him *smiles* : "Guess you must be the exception, huh dollface ?"

Norman is a gentleman. He’d be holding you and gently swing you back and forth in his arms.

He’d be dancing a waltz with. Or cooking you a good meal. His mother taught him how to be a good cook and to always be as respectful and nice as he can be.

So, he’d also be the type to buy you dinner and buy scented candles and roses for the occasion. And he’d always ask you if you’d had a good time at the end.

Norman *holding you close* : "Was it alright ?"

You *smile and wrap your arms around his waist* : "Perfect."

He’d then smile and let out a relieved sigh.

Norman was taught to be perfect. He would be devastated if you didn’t have fun or didn’t enjoy your time with him.

Freddy can date. But, the dates he went on in the past weren’t exactly heartfelt. He just never got emotionally connected with someone enough to care.

So, he’d try simple at first.

Freddy would either invite you to get a drink or offer to take a look at his garden. Let’s not forget he used to be a gardener. So, he does love flowers.

He’d then wait until it gets dark to ask you if you want him to try something on you.

Freddy never used his powers for anything else than pain or to kill. So, he’d be nervous when first trying to think of the perfect dream date.

Freddy *smiles nervously before taking your hand* : "Trust me ?"

You *smile back* : "Always."

He’d then get inside your head and put his plan into motion. He’d be careful not to hurt you of course and try to make it as perfect as he can.

Because he knows you trust him. And that is something Freddy never got from anyone but the kids he used to love…before they betrayed him.

Bo : "…Beer ?"

Bo is a simple man. It’d normally be a truck ride and drinking beer while looking at the sky, or at whatever is around.

But, as he can’t really leave the facility…he’d just ask you to join him in the courtyard of the hospital to have some s’mores and look up at the sky.

No conversation necessary. But, he’d be happy either way.

Bo : "Thanks fer…Ya know…Sayin’ yes to the whole thing…"

You *smile and shrugs* : "No need. Believe it or not…I like hanging out with you, Bo."

Bo *is stunned before chuckling and handing you a cold drink of your choice* : "Whatever you say, darlin’…"

Bo would be happy to hear it, even if he wouldn’t believe it at first.

Because Bo has always been the failure of his family.

So, why would you ever like his company ? But, he’d let himself dream for a bit. Just for a moment.

Brahms would give you his favourite toys and ask you to play with him. He’d also share his favourite snacks with you and watch cartoons with you.

Brahms is a child at heart and he’d be happy to do anything with you, as long as he spends time with you.

He’d also insist on staying with you for the night.

Brahms *holds you close and starts breathing deeply* : "Nice…day ?"

You immediately understood what he was asking and hugged him back.

You : "Yes. I had a great day. Thank you, Brahms."

He was very happy to hear it and cuddled you closer—even letting you take a peek at his face. He’d become very clingy very quickly.

Brahms has a big fear of being a disappointment and abandonment. So, once he knows you like him ? There’s little chance he’d ever leave you alone.

Michael *A…date ?*

He’d be surprised and even a little nervous at first. Love is a tricky business for Michael, since he technically killed all of the people he ever cared about.

So, he’d be a little worried you’d end up with the same fate.

So, even making him agree to go on a date with you would be tricky.

Michael *frowns and sighs before taking your hand*

You *smile hopefully* : "Is that a yes ?"

Michael *nods after a while*

He’d then lead you to the kitchen and have a little cooking date with him. He knows how to handle a knife and was advised early on to find an activity which would soothe him. He found cooking.

But, cooking with you was different. It felt…better.

Seems like the bogeyman can get lonely too.

Unfortunately, Hannibal Sr. is considered too dangerous to leave his cell most of the time, as he arrived after all the others to St Louis.

So, he’d be either asking you to put on some music for him or to read to him. Two of his favourite things.

Hannibal Sr. *smiles as he tilts his head left and right to the music*

You *smile as you silently observe him* : "Tell me…Why did you ask me on a date ? I mean…You’re always in there. It seems pointless."

Him *stops tilting his head before opening his eyes slowly and smiling at you* : "But, that is precisely the game, my dear. Anticipation makes the deal all the sweeter…"

You : "So…You would rather wait and watch me all day rather than going out on an actual date ?"

Him *chuckles* : "Of course not, my dear…But, even if I never was set free…Spending a lifetime just watching you would be enough for me."

You stared at Hannibal Sr. for a while and he didn’t break eye contact for a second. He had just confessed that he’d be okay with just watching you until the end. And somehow, you believed him.

[julihlaufey]

Conversations On The Roof

✧⁠*⁠。A hero doesn't always have a good day. And on one of your worst days, there's nothing better than a rooftop conversation with Deadpool to make you sleep better. ✧⁠*⁠。

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Obs: This is my first work in English. You can also find it in Portuguese on the profile if you want. Good reading! ⁠♡

Female Reader/Sfw

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The nights in the city could sometimes be quite cold, especially after a day of work.

If your practices could even be called that, you didn’t receive any rewards for your actions, but to be honest, you were used to it by now. The big thing about being a hero was that you never got paid for your deeds. And if you ever messed up or slipped, all the "thank you" smiles for saving the day would fade, and the judgmental looks would appear. That was just another one of those days. You were sitting on the roof of a house near your favorite restaurant.

A place where only extremely "healthy" foods were sold. Perfect for the end of days like these. Your feet dangled against the wind, brushing the suit that covered you from head to toe.

Your hands were too busy savoring that masterpiece of cheese and grease that was your snack. And your dreams were too lost in watching the people flocking into the small restaurant to notice you were no longer alone.

— And another tough day for our Spidergirl. One more for the list!

Wade.

— How many times do I have to tell you. I don't use that name?!

— Então qual é o nome do seu herói? — Ele perguntou, já sabendo a resposta.

— ... Ainda não sei. Mas eu vou decidir. - Você olha para o lado, vendo-o rir por baixo da máscara e sentar-se ao seu lado de forma preguiçosa.

— This time I remembered to ask for extra mustard. - You said, handing over his still-wrapped sandwich.

— E queijo extra? — perguntou Deadpool, animado por depois de tantas vezes, você finalmente ter se lembrado.

— Wasn't it without? - You replied, watching the smile on his face disappear instantly. — Just kidding, extra cheese.

He gave you a playful punch on the arm, starting his meal. His legs swung carelessly.

— Looks like my day was a piece of crap, but yours was wonderful.

— You say that because I didn't try shoving you of the roof today or because my legs are swinging?

You roll your eyes.

— Because of the legs.

— Nah, it was crap. The idiot of the day found out I was coming and holed up in a panic room. The son of a bitch even mocked me through the security camera, can you believe it? - He said, pulling his mask up above his eyes this time, staring at you.

— And you couldn't get through a little panic room?

— I'm a mercenary, my love, not a magician. Unless you want me to be. - He added in a suggestive tone, leaning closer. You're lost count of how many times you rolled your eyes around Wade.

But surprisingly, those provocations and confident laughs were the best part of your day.

— But no. I didn't get that jerk. It's for next time. And you? Couldn't save the kitty from the tree?

— No. He suffocated on the rope in front of his ten-year-old owner.

He stared at you. For a moment, Wade thought it might be true, but he quickly caught on.

— Got it. My target escaped, but it was very hard. His son had to die, and he watched through the camera, unable to do anything.

— The little girl went into shock until her mom arrived, having to see him bloody and hanging.

— The boy was carrying a little truck. The father must have given it to him before I arrived.

— The little girl ended up hospitalized, and they don't know if she'll ever recover from the trauma.

— ... There was a baby and-

— No.

— Damn. - Deadpool slapped his leg in defeat. — But seriously, did you get the cat?

— Screw you. It was a fire case. The couple arrived, and the house was engulfed in smoke. I only managed to get the kid out.

— Isn't that good? You stopped a brat from dying. That's pretty sexy to me. You chuckled weakly at his infamous attempt to lighten the mood.

— They asked me to try to get to the safe. The couple's savings were there, and he had just lost his job.

— They can get the money back, darling. You weren't that bad.

— She's eight months pregnant, Wade. - You said, with a heavy voice. It wasn't easy to recall that stressful afternoon.

— ... Yeah, you got me there. And unfortunately, not in the way I wanted.

Rolling your eyes with a weak smile, you took a sip of your soda.— But look. You're a hero, you had to save their lives. Isn't that the hero's deal? The bad guy, the fire, was stopped, and the victims, the family, were saved. You did everything you could, cupcake.

— You're not used to failing and then having people look at you and curse like you're the worst person in the world...

— Ah, believe me, sweetie. Whether I kill, don't kill, or don't even show up at all, I get cursed.

You smiled faintly. Wade's jokes could usually cheer you up, and you truly appreciated his attempts to lift your spirits. But that day, things were a bit deeper.

Deadpool noticed, seeing that you didn't react as usual to his jokes. Crumpling the brown sandwich bag, he tossed it aside, giving his drink one last sip and patting his thigh twice.

You turned your head, confused.— Come on. Don't be afraid, I swear I don't bite. Unless you ask.

Laughing a little and rolling your eyes for the twentieth time that night, you accepted, resting your head on his leg.

— It's comfortable. - You commented impulsively.

— Thanks, I work out. I promise it gets even better higher up.

Feeling a slap on his knee, Wade laughed, taking off his mask completely. You felt his hand still warm through the glove, moving your hood aside and stroking your hair.

— Now, do you prefer a bedtime story about unicorns or how I beheaded a guy yesterday?

The soft touch. The calming breath that synchronized with his laugh as Wade tried to recount his work yesterday as if it were a fairy tale. Your eyes began to blur at each streetlight.

Your head relaxed and rested its weight on Wilson's lap. Maybe after a tiring and stressful day, all you needed was a session of Wade talking non-stop until you fell asleep.