#this is my second time doing her route... i played once on switch but never got her 14 heart (because that feature wasnt a thing yet)

[jesterwaves]

damn she must really hate art

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

[liillyliilly]

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

[hamartia-grander]

can you elaborate on gale being manipulative? i dont have him in my party very often so i havent really talked to him much

Yeah absolutely.

So to be fair, I didn't notice it until my second or third playthrough because I never played with him in my party either until I got the mod for no party limit. But once I had him in my party - and would choose different dialogue routes/attempted to romance him (but couldn't go through w it because I don't like him) - that's when it became super noticeable. Astarion's manipulations are overdramatised and overexaggerated because he's a caricature of real manipulation that larian obviously never took seriously. Gale however is real manipulation that is at times so effective it seems whoever was writing the dialogue tree fell for it themselves, given the lack of range in responses.

Gale is very straightforward when he wants something. This is usually an admirable quality. He doesn't hide when he needs something and he isn't afraid to ask for help. But that turns into manipulation when, if he doesn't get his way, he begins putting words into the player character's mouth and assuming their intentions behind denying him what he wants. For the romance path, I noticed this when I began romancing him, but quickly switched to Wyll once I realised I couldn't go an entire playthrough pretending to be attracted to Gale. And when you choose Wyll, Gale has this dialogue:

This. Shocked me, to say the least. Gale immediately equates the player's affections to being a signifier of what makes a man "good", and shifts a simple preference of the heart to be the player saying "you're not as good of a man as Wyll, and you're also unworthy of my love", things that the player never said nor is even a logical thing to conclude from anything I would have said previously. He's putting words in my mouth, he's assuming the worst of my decision. Now this can be interpreted in two ways: either he has no idea he's being super manipulative right now, and is simply lashing out in hurt, or he knows full well what he's doing and is doing it on purpose in an attempt to convince the player to choose him over Wyll in his hurt. Regardless of the intention, the result is that he is twisting the player's intentions and feelings into something that satisfies his own insecurities, either as a reflex or to try to warp the player to giving him what he wants. It's manipulation.

Another instance I noticed this was when I was discouraging him from pursuing the Crown of Karsus after reading The Annals of Karsus. I chose the extreme dialogue choices for this one - outright discouraging him, telling him I don't want him pursuing the crown/godhood - because my first playthrough despite passing the roll to convince him not to take the crown, he still did, because of a bug, but I didn't know it was a bug and just thought I'd done it wrong. So the next time, I tried it this way.

First, I reminded him that the Karsite weave - and the crown itself - is what caused Karsus' downfall and led to an absence of magic. Gale brings up how Mystra wanted him to sacrifice himself to save the realm, and says:

This isn't directed at the player, but it is still a manipulation tactic nonetheless. The player does not know Mystra. We do not interact with her, ever, and we do not ever hear her side of it outside of a brief conversation she has with Gale in the tabernacle. Now, I am not commenting on the act of Mystra wanting Gale to kill himself - obviously that's fucked up. But Gale is, again, completely assuming her intentions behind her request, and twisting the image of her into something purposefully cruel and power-hungry (the goddess of ALL magic… fears not having power? sure, Gale. But there's also limitless power in magic? Which one is it Gale?). He's angry with her, he's angry with the player for trying to discourage him from his hubris, and so he lashes out by warping Mystra's image to the player. He also assumes that Mystra knows for a fact the crown of Karsus can be used to overthrow her, when it literally failed to do so in the past. He is going back to his old habits, he's completely forgetting that the existence of the orb is entirely his fault in his arrogance and in actively ignoring Mystra's boundaries, and he goes on to blame her for it:

by saying she 'took' something from him. (Also, he brings up being cured, as a way to say 'hey you care about me and want be to be cured, so you should be okay with me pursuing godhood, because it means I'll be cured :) Mystra doesn't want Gale to have the crown, and so when the player suggests not wanting Gale to have the crown either, he tries to get us to let him have his way by pinning Mystra as the bad guy. Even though before, he was perfectly willing to acknowledge he was in the wrong:

(this was back in the Tabernacle, after speaking to Mystra). There's also more dialogue in Act 1 where he openly admits to actively ignoring Mystra's boundaries, to being blinded by his hubris, leading him to pursue the pocket of magic only to have that pocket be consumed by him, giving him the orb. Something Mystra took no part in, and actively discouraged him from doing.

When the player says they don't want him to pursue godhood, Gale says:

Just. Wow. Okay. So suddenly, the player disagreeing with him wanting to pursue Godhood means they have no faith in him as a person - something that was never said - and that they think he is automatically inferior to anyone else who would try - again, something that is never said. He lashes out, he twists the player's words and intentions, he assumes everything in bad faith, all to shield his hurt over not getting what he wants and to try to get the player to give him what he wants. (He also, again, reduces his own mistakes as "youthful enthusiasm" despite knowing the risks and taking them anyway. And he intends to do the exact same thing again, here).

He appeals to our empathy by suggesting we mean to say he's worthless, he's not a good man, we have no faith in him, he's inferior, etc., as a way to get us to be on his side. He doesn't see our hesitance to be the understanding that it is - that we know Gale is blinded by his hubris once more, and his seeking godhood will end badly no matter what - and instead twists it into something purposefully cruel and ill-intended. He can be mad all he wants with my decisions - that's normal, that's human, and it's understandable given I'm discouraging him from pursuing something he wants. That's not being argued here. But it is how he acts when being denied something he wants, it's how he twists people's words negatively against them to fit his lack of self-worth that makes it manipulation. He's not taking the player at face value, he's not having faith in the player as his friend and companion, he is shoving us into the 'adversary' box by assigning harmful intentions to our disagreement so that he can feel better about himself.

[nerdgasmgate]

The Waxing of a Red Moon: Pt 2

The party gave their final goodbyes to the patrons of The Last Light Inn with the promise that they’d all see each other again. The only one to join them on their journey to Baldur’s Gate was Jaheira, the fabled Druid. She had become a valued ally and friend in the short time they’d spent together. 

That would make three druids among the Red Moon ranks. It was this fact that made Astarion comment “Doesn’t this make us more of a barn than a band?” The remark earned him a sharp glance from Halsin and Rhaenyra, while Jaheira offered a strike to the vampire’s arm. Though it had gained some laughter from everyone. 

The road to Baldur’s Gate was a long one. And even after deciding on a route, they chose to go with the safer option versus the fastest. This would bring them back to the mountains. And even with winter fast approaching, the Absolute was moving with an entire army, which would at least work in their favor time wise.  

Lae’zel had received word that there was a Githyanki Créche nestled in the mountains and she eagerly wished to go. First and foremost to rid herself of the tadpole still burrowed in her mind and second, to offer her service to Queen Vlaakith once cured. Though many of the others weren’t fond of the idea, they agreed to make the stop. 

After a full day's travel, they came to rest and camp at the foothills of the mountain. Once hunger had been sated, half the group decided to play Old Fool. A ridiculous card game that often ended in bar brawls or excessive drunkenness. It consisted of bets and wagers, full houses and taking shots of ale if you lost a hand. 

Wyll and Karlach had somehow roped Lae’zel into learning how to play. The gith had never even heard of Old Fool, though Karlach bet she’d never even heard of games before. Jaheira joined after the first hand, while Gale and Shadowheart watched the chaotic mess unfolding before them. 

“Tsk’va!” Lae-zel hissed, tossing her hand down. “Truly a fool’s game indeed. Surely you cheat or deceive!” she accused, eyes falling to Wyll. 

In a surrendering fashion, Wyll quickly waved his hands, swearing that he wasn’t cheating. Laughter erupted from the card table and another round was poured. 

Off to the side, Rhaenyra sat with Scratch, tossing his favorite leather ball while listening to the joyous laughter of her companions. She couldn’t help but giggle at each gith curse she heard. At the farthest edges of camp, Astarion and Halsin were settling into the night's first watch. The roar of their games now distant and fading. 

Usually the first watch was done by Halsin and Gale. But the wizard had begged Astarion to switch with him, eager to watch the teachings of Old Fool to Lae’zel. With a roll of his eyes and a promise of food, Astarion reluctantly agreed. 

After Halsin finished his initial sweep of the edges of camp, he came to rest not far from Astarion. The vampire was busy fiddling with one of his daggers, tossing and rolling it over his fingers as though it were as light as a feather. 

“All quiet.” Halsin announced. 

“Well, maybe the woods are, but not the pack of gnolls we left back at camp.” Astarion quipped. 

The druid chuckled in response. “We’ll soon face greater threats in the nights to come, but surely you’re not jealous you’re missing out on a game of Old Fool?” 

Astarion shook his head. “I’ve played enough Old Fool to last me several more lifetimes. Besides, it's refreshing to hear Wyll being accused of cheating instead of me.” the dagger flipped around his knuckles. 

“You? Cheating?” Halsin retorted. “Never.” 

“Well, at least I’m not afraid to play the game.” Astarion replied with a toothy grin. 

“I’ve played my fair share of fools games.” 

“That's not the game I speak of, druid.” 

Halsin turned to face Astarion, his brow raising in question. “Of what game do you speak?” 

“Oh dear boy, I see the way you look at her. I see the hunger you try so hard to hide.” Astarion rolled his head to the side, meeting Halsin’s questioning gaze. 

The sudden switch in their conversation caused Halsin to shift uncomfortably. He swallowed before he spoke, “Astarion, I-” 

“No, no. Don’t apologize to me, darling. Apologize to her.” with a hand, he shooed away any words Halsin offered. “I’m sure she can smell whatever mountain man pheromones you’re giving off and by the gods Halsin, you’re going to drive her mad.” Halsin tore his eyes away from Astarion, sensing the heat that was rising in his face. The gesture made the vampire laugh. “That is the game I speak of.” 

The crunch of leaves caused both men to snap their attention to the side. Approaching from camp was Rhaenyra. She walked armorless and barefoot, wearing only a loose, black chemise. The silence between the three made Rhaenyra question what she’d just walked in on.

“Uhm, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you both. I just wanted to check on you.” 

Astarion smiled up at her. “My sweet, always thinking of others.” he paused briefly, “We were just discussing our favorite games.” 

Rhaenyra looked from Astarion to Halsin, her brows furrowing once she realized the druid appeared unsettled, or nervous perhaps? Though the shadows of the night obscured him slightly, making it difficult to tell. “Oh, what's your favorite game, Halsin?” Rhaenyra asked. 

Halsin was struggling to find his voice, and just as he cleared his throat to answer, Astarion did it for him. “Why it's a good ol’ fashioned game of chase.” 

Rhaenyra innocently smiled at the answer. “I remember playing chase quite often as a pup. Though I doubt you could catch me now.” she teased, shooting Halsin a quick wink. 

The wink was followed by a sudden roar of laughter from Astarion. “No my sweet, I don’t think he could.”

“Play nice,” she chastised. “Not all of us are entertained by silk fabrics or lavish parties, Astarion.” Rhaenyra then knelt down between them and after shooting Astarion a chide glance, she turned her eyes to Halsin. “Chase is a fine game.” she smiled. 

From such close proximity, Halsin could see the delicate spots of freckles upon her cheeks, a delicate dance of spots illuminated by the moon. “Yes,” he finally spoke, clearing his throat again. “Yes it is.” 

“Well,” Rhaenyra rose back up. “You two seemed deep in conversation, I shouldn’t distract you further.” reaching out, she mets Astarion’s hand halfway, giving it a gentle squeeze before taking a final look to Halsin. “May the Wolf Mother watch over you both.” and with a swift turn on her heels and smirk upon her face, she headed back towards camp. 

Once Rhaenyra was out of earshot, the love in Astarions eyes faded. Now reflective, ruby pools stared back at Halsin. 

“Should any harm befall her, whether heart or hair, know that I will slit you belly to throat.”  Something akin to a growl slipped from Halsin, whether by reflex or otherwise, it was the first time Astarion saw the man break in composure. Good, he thought. Perhaps he’s not too soft after all.

[tetrakys]

April 17 is so soon! Will you be able to play NG on release day? 👀 Apart from Jason which crush do you like most so far/based on beta? I very much like Devon so it will be so hard to betray him on my Jason account 😅

April 17 is soooooo close! Just 2 weeks to go! 🎉 I'm hopefully going to play immediately, trying to keep the morning work-free, fingers crossed.

My second crush is Thomas, I liked his aloofness a lot in the beta. Plus he's really cute. My third crush is Roy. Honestly I wasn't super impressed with him in the crossover event, he felt a bit flat, but I enjoyed his interactions in the beta. I kinda like how he flirt without realising he's flirting.

Aaaaand I really didn't want to have more than 3 crushes this time, but... I kinda like Devon too 😩 I like how he can switch from nice, friendly guy, to super serious boss in 0.1s, it's kinda hot.

What can I do anon, once a hoe, always a hoe, I'm gonna have a harem once again. We cannot fight our own nature.

I'm going to try to be a sensible hoe though, and play Devon and Roy's routes for free, while Jason and Thomas will be my mains. I plan to buy the VIP subscription for them, hopefully a subscription won't cost more than 10€ 🤞🏻

Can I show you my new MCs? I'm not giving them names, they're all Ysaline for me, not planning to make full OCs, but I spent a long time deciding what they should look like. Especially trying to think what they would look like next to their LI (because 12 years ago I messed up when I made my Castiel Candy, and gave her the same hair colour, and since then all their illustrations have looked like some incestuous twins Lannister situation 😭😭)

Ysaline 1, Jason's girl

(with a lighter lipgloss)

I'd made her as a joke/place holder during the beta and I kinda got attached 🥹, I love her freckles, plus sweet pink-haired MC romancing a villain reminds me of Eva/Jacks ❤️🍎

Ysaline 2, Thomas' girl

I really wanted a more canon MC as main route (with darker hair because I like black more than brown), and I think she will look great with Thomas.

Ysaline 3, Roy's girl

She exists for the sole reason that I never had a blonde MC and I wanted these girls to be totally different from my old Candys. So I went for a more traditional blonde blue eyes look.

Ysaline 4, Devon's girl

I love red-heads. and I think she's going to look amazing next to Devon 💕

[al9ayf]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 | trafalgar law x f!reader

✧ chapter 7 :: three children

｡˚ word count: 4.20k

｡˚ a/n: sorry for skipping the weekly upload !!! the schedule for this fic will be pretty bad in a bit because i’m waiting on new op chapters + new ideas !

｡˚ content warning(s) :: graphic miscarriage

｡˚ tags: @punem699, @toshirolovebot

the morning sun rises as the moon sets in the west, and you awake alone in the cold room. the star barely kisses the inside of the small house, so you are left with only darkness again. but you didn’t rise from sleep because of your loneliness; you arose because of the sound of ringing. next to your pile of clothes is your smail, and you assume that it has been ringing for only a few seconds. you get up from the mattress and started to walk over to it, only to stop in your tracks when you realize law has left his hat.

you bent down to pick it up, wanting to take a closer look at it. law has either accidentally or purposefully left his hat here. you couldn’t tell. you smile at the thought of it and then continue to walk to the pile of clothes. the ringing stops when you pick up the call, and it is none other than your advisor calling.

“my queen, i apologize for calling you so early in the morning,” he says.

“there’s no time for apologies, eddard, just tell me about the situation in onigashima. i’d like to return already before anybody realizes i’m gone,” you say, putting on your clothes again.

“right—kaidou and big mom have joined forces after fighting all night. they were asking about you earlier, but i told them you were asleep and would not like to be disturbed. they do expect you to join them for lunch.”

“then, i’ll be there soon.” you hang up the call before he can say anything else. you have more than enough time to have a bath, get dressed, and enjoy breakfast before the two emperors expect you. once you finish putting on your clothes, you head to the bathroom and gather your jewelry and accessories that you left there last night. you take a glance in the mirror as you do so, and you scrunch your nose when you see how messy and unkempt you look. but there’s nothing you can do about it now, so you leave the bathroom and grab law’s hat and your smail. you exit the home and find morgul already awake and waiting for you.

then you hear a roar, and you look up above you to see drago flying around. a smile creeps on your face, and you quickly get on morgul to head back to onigashima. you are thankful that she takes a more remote route to head back there, and with drago by her side, you are hidden well from the people down below. you arrive in only a few minutes, and morgul lands in the field closest to one of the entrances. your guards bow when they see you jump off morgul and then open the doors for you to head inside.

eddard is waiting for you with eira by his side. “welcome back, my queen,” she says, bowing. “would you like me to draw a bath?”

“immediately,” you say, walking past her. she looks at the hat in your hands as you make your way down the hallway, then back at eddard. he catches her eye and then looks back down the hallway. you have disappeared.

eddard walks over to the table in the middle of the room and grabs a wine glass. he opens a bottle and starts to pour. “this early?” eira asks, walking up to him.

“it’s never too early to have a glass of wine,” he says. “my conscious calls for it, knowing that i might not have a chance within the next week to drink it again.” he takes a nice, long sip and sighs in delight after.

eira only shook her head and decided to switch the topic. “that hat, it seems familiar…” she said. “do you think—“

“the night we set sail to wano, i was heading to our queen’s quarters when i spotted trafalgar entering her room,” he says, cutting her off. “… i’m not too surprised to see they found comfort with each other again last night.”

“but i fear for her laying with a pirate captain…”

“have trust in our queen. she will be the first to know if he’s playing tricks on her,” eddard looks at her and smiles. “if anything, she’s the charming one here.”

eira only nods her head before turning around and leaving him to his thoughts and wine. she arrives at your bedroom door and knocks three times. “come in, eira!” you yell. she enters and quickly shuts the door behind her. you’re sitting on your lounge chair with a robe on and your hair all a mess. the hat sits beside you, and eira takes a glance at it. you catch her but don’t say anything about it. she walks over to the bathroom and starts to draw the bath water, making sure that it is warm enough before you head in. you stand in front of the tub, and eira helps you take your robe off. you get in and move yourself to the far edge of it so you can stretch your legs and relax.

the claw-foot bath sits in the center of a big bathroom. its tiles are pastel-colored and patterned, some of them even forming images of dragons and stories. the bathroom itself is a beauty and a work of art. it is fit for a queen such as yourself. you then think to yourself that you might renovate your bathroom back at dragonskeep to look like this.

eira draws a bucket of clean water and sits down behind you. your eyes are shut, and your arms are comfortably resting on the sides of the tub. she starts to wash your hair with soap and water. as she washes, she looks at your chest by slightly moving her head to the side. her eyes widen at the sight of hickeys, and her cheeks become warm. you often enjoy the company of men and women in your bedroom, but not once have you allowed them to leave marks on you. eira isn’t surprised about your sex drive. she is only surprised at the fact that you let somebody besides your late husband leave those marks on you again. she feels as if this relationship isn’t just about sex but something more.

you feel her eyes on you, and you can only hum and smile. “you’re staring,” you say.

“apologies, my queen…” she murmurs.

“i know you’re not truly sorry,” you open your eyes as you sit up. you turn around to face her shocked face, and you rest your arms on the tub again.

“my queen?” she asks, unable to reply.

you laugh. “eira, what are your thoughts? you know you can be open with me, right? you’re my best friend…” she relaxes once she hears your words.

“you love that man, don’t you?” she asks. her words are bold, and you find yourself at a loss for words. but then a smile forms on your lips.

“i’m not sure… time will tell.”

“and him being a pirate captain doesn’t affect anything?”

“no, eira,” you say as you turn around again, giving her your back. “when you fall in love, nothing will come in the way of your heart. you will understand one day…”

she smiled at your words and then continued to wash your hair. maybe after this war, she will find somebody to love if they stumble into her life.

—

the table has no weight limit, it seems. there is so much food piled on it that you barely know where to start. you keep to your glass of water and allow big mom and kaidou to eat it all. you find that you have lost your appetite at the sight of the room. you came to this lunch meeting expecting to deal with the straw hats, but you only feel sick to your stomach when you realize this alliance came to be because kaidou and big mom want to rule over the world. and once conquered, they will become your enemies. they will not need you anymore, and take your throne as theirs.

you won’t let that happen. you will be the one to rule. you will be the one to conquer. you will be the queen that shall sit on the empty throne. only you. you feel your stomach churn and hurt at the thought of the two of them not needing you anymore. no, they will be defeated before that will happen. it can’t happen. you are on their side. you reach for your water and drink it fast to help calm yourself. you tend to go a bit mad when somebody threatens your throne. you can’t crack like this.

after setting your cup down, you join in on the laughter between the two of them as they joke about ruling the world. you lie and say that you’re happy for them since the emperors becoming allies with each other helps your cause and their cause and that it is quite difficult when they are at each other's throats. the two agreed with you before continuing to eat.

you will be the one to kill both of them.

—

you leave for the mainland again the next day, dressed in the same traditional garments and mask you wore the first time when you attended one of the alliance’s meetings. you scour the surroundings to find where the alliance is, but you find nobody in their usual spots. you become confused when there is nobody in sight, but then drago suddenly screeches and heads in a different direction from where you were looking. you turn your head to see law’s crew nearby one of the hideouts, but he isn’t with them. drago lands in front of them, and you get off of him. they greet you, and you greet them back with a gentle smile on your lips.

“i came to talk with your captain, but i see he’s not with you,” you said. “where is he?” they all looked at each other, which made you a bit suspicious.

“we’re not sure where he is. he said he had things to do—“

“your captain won’t tell you where he’s going?” you ask, almost interrogating them. drago snarls at them, and you can sense their fear. you feel bad, so you raise your hand, and he stops. “my apologies…”

you feel disappointed at their obvious lie. you don’t know why they’re lying to you, but you don’t want to seem like a threat to them. as you turn to mount drago again, bepo comes forward and calls for you. you turn your head to him and see that he is crying.

“captain sacrificed himself for us!” he cried.

“you’re making it seem like he died, dumbass!” penguin smacked him across the head, and bepo rubbed the spot to soothe the pain. you furrowed your eyebrows and frowned. sacrificed? you stepped away from drago and walked up to the two of them.

“what happened?” you asked, clearly upset.

“captain turned himself in for us,” he said, moving away from bepo. “he’s being held at the prison at the flower capital.”

“do the straw hats know?”

“we weren’t supposed to tell anybody.”

“well, i’m glad you told me,” you grabbed his hands and held them. “i promise you, if he’s not out in time for the fire festival, i’ll burn that prison down and save him myself. but if he does get out, let me know immediately.” penguin can only nod his head, and you smile at him. you bid the crew farewell before getting back on drago and leaving to find the rest of the straw hats. your heart breaks at the thought of him in prison, and you know you have to stop your thoughts from taking control of you. you can’t do rash things, or you will risk everything.

—

you haven’t been well ever since you heard about law’s imprisonment. you haven’t been able to keep food down, and you like to spend most time in your bedroom, alone, with only pajamas on and your hair undone. you’re a mess and mostly only leave to have dinner with kaidou and big mom, but you’re usually drinking a glass of water or wine. but you really can’t eat. you’re too nervous. even your dragons can sense that you’re sick, and you can feel their unhappiness because of it.

your handmaids bring you some food so you wouldn’t end up starving yourself, and for everybody’s sake, you try to eat most of it. but everybody could tell that the longer law stayed in prison, the longer you stayed depressed. you know that you needed to snap out of it, fast.

you started the day with a bath and your handmaidens dressing you and styling your hair. you put on new jewelry that you bought in the flower capital but still kept your wedding ring on your right ring finger. you would never change it. then you had breakfast, and for once in the past two days, you ate all of it. everybody was relieved. the rest of the day continued as normal. you attended meetings you had with your advisors and hand and even worked on things outside of wano that dealt with your kingdoms and countries. it was good to resume a daily routine.

when dinner time approached, you decided to spend some of your free time with your dragons. they seemed relieved to see that you were okay, and you noticed a better attitude from them. it was good that they were happy as well. when you were ready to head back inside, eddard came running out to find you. he stopped a few feet in front of you and started panting. you waited for him to catch his breath which took a good minute.

“m-my queen,” he huffed.

“well? what is so important that you lost your breath over it?” you asked, smiling a little.

“trafalgar is with his crew! he managed to escape…”

you felt a sense of relief wash over you. your heartbeat quickens, and you find yourself dropping your smile and turning around to mount drago immediately. you needed to see him.

“where is he?” you ask, sitting on the saddle.

“kuri,” said eddard. “my queen, are you sure about leaving?”

“i need to see him, eddard. i must.”

you looked at him one last time before drago flew off. you flew west to where kuri was and started to scan the area once you saw land up ahead. kuri was small, so it didn’t take you much time to find where he possibly might be. you looked around with determination surging through your body. adrenaline pumps through your veins, and anxiety rises to your head. you feel unwell again, but you assure yourself knowing that it will all go away once you find him.

drago turned around to fly over the town again, and that is when you spotted him; alone, walking, all bloodied from whatever torture he had to endure. drago lets out a loud screech which catches law’s attention. your dragon blocks the sun as he flies above him and then does a swift landing in front of him. you don’t move, though. you grab the horn of the saddle, which is in a shape of a dragon head, and lean down a little to see him a bit better. tears form in your eyes the second you two make eye contact. your sickness washes off of you as you jump into a pool of pure relief.

you get off drago immediately and run to law. as soon as you are close to him, he extends his arms out just a little, and you crash into him, crying. you’re careful as you hug him, not wanting to hurt him even more. law keeps a hand on the back of your neck, bringing you even closer to him. the both of you stand there hugging each other for a few seconds; the only sounds are your muffled cries against his clothes.

suddenly, you felt law’s grip on you loosen as he buckled to the ground. you caught him before he could fall and you gently brought him down to his knees so the both of you could sit on the ground. he was breathing heavily suddenly. drago came up to both of you and let out sounds that showed that he was concerned.

“what did they do to you?” you asked, your voice almost cracking.

“it doesn’t matter,” he managed to say. you didn’t want to push him further on the topic. you just let him take his time trying to regain his stamina before even attempting to stand up again. once he was able enough, you helped him back up to his feet. you helped him up on drago, and the both of you took off flying towards the house you both spent the night in a few days ago. it was too risky to take him back to onigashima even though you would feel better with him resting there. you were going to have to help him here.

once you arrived, you helped him down, and the both of you entered the house. you led him to the bathroom and helped take off his clothes but let him do the rest so you could grab the bucket from the other room. it still had water in it, so you picked it up and headed to the bathroom. law was looking at himself in the mirror, looking at all the bruises and cuts he had suffered. you set the bucket down right as he moved away from the mirror to sit in the tub. you grabbed a rag and sat down next to him on the edge of the tub. you dipped the rag into the bucket of water and started to clean the blood off of his chest.

you look at his face and catch his eye. he manages a faint smile that almost brings you to tears again. you look back down at his chest. “i was so scared,” you said.

“you should have more trust in me,” he said. “i was only in there for a few days.”

“trust isn’t the issue, law. i was ready to burn that prison down just to get you out of there,” you looked back up at him. “i’m worried about going forward with this plan. you mean a lot to me, and this whole situation just—” you stop yourself when you feel your stomach hurting again. law noticed your discomfort and grabbed your hand, snapping you out of it.

“are you okay?” he asked, moving his hand away.

you smiled at him. “yeah, i’m alright.”

you continued wiping the rest of the blood off with the rag until there was none left. you placed the rag on the edge of the tub and sat behind him. law turned his head to look at you, but you only moved it back and ran your fingers through his hair to find any injuries. he hissed in pain when your fingers brushed over a few of them, and you quickly apologized.

you wet another rag and used it around his head. his blood was dry, so it took a while to get it all off, but you didn’t mind. law felt relaxed under your touch and even shut his eyes. you were happy to be alone with him like this again. just the two of you in a comfortable silence as you cleaned him up. the both of you were enjoying it even though this was happening under rough circumstances.

right as you were finishing up, your stomach started to hurt again. it felt more like cramps this time, really painful cramps. you dropped the rag and fell back onto your butt as you placed a hand on your abdomen. the pain was getting so intense that you felt a cold sweat covering your body almost instantly. it was a pain you couldn’t describe, but a pain that was all too familiar. but you were so focused on it that you couldn’t think of anything else. when law heard you moaning in pain, he quickly turned around and looked at you. you were leaning up against the wall, clutching your stomach with both hands at this point, pushing on it to relieve some pain.

“y/n? what’s wrong?” he got up from the tub and quickly grabbed a towel to wrap it around his waist. you don’t answer. you can’t answer. as each second passes, the pain becomes more unbearable. you start crying. your tears won’t stop flowing as you try your best to find a position that will lessen the pain, but nothing is working. law bent down beside you and placed a hand on top of yours, trying to find any sort of problem just by examining your physical symptoms. but he is also confused.

“it hurts!” you cried. “it hurts so bad!”

“please, y/n, let me help—“ you cut him off by pushing him away and shaking your head. he takes a few steps back to give you space, but he feels a chill go down his spine. this isn’t right.

you suddenly felt a wetness between your legs. it comes fast, and it doesn’t stop coming. it’s a lot, and it starts to make a small pool beneath you. law looks down at your legs and sees blood. it spreads from your position and goes in between the tiles of the floor, going right toward him. but he doesn’t move. he’s stuck. your disheveled and shocked appearance forces him to stay where he is, staring at your breakdown.

“is that… your period?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.

“this isn’t a period!” you snap at him. “i’m not supposed to have my period!” in the midst of your pain and crying, you start stripping out of whatever clothes that cover the lower half of your body and throw them somewhere in the bathroom. your underwear is soaked in blood, and you painfully take them off and throw them with the rest of your clothing. the blood never stops coming out of you, and you watch in horror as some tiny clumps come out of it.

law bends down beside you again. “you need my help,” he says. “you need to get out of this bathroom, y/n.” his voice is stern yet concerned, but you’re in such a panic you swat his hands away when he reaches out to hold you. you’re not accepting his help. you’re too scared for his help. you’re scared for yourself. law doesn’t know what to do, so he leaves the bathroom to find a clean towel to use or anything like that. but it hits him what this is; what you’re going through right now.

your cries echo out from the bathroom, but law, again, cannot move. he is too shocked to move. he doesn’t want to go back in there, but he has to, for you, even though you do not want him there. he needs to make sure that it might be what he thinks it is. he needed to. law grabs an extra towel and quickly comes back. your cries and moans come to an end as the rest of the blood and clumps stop. your stomach is no longer in pain, but you are traumatized by the events that you cannot move. you know this all too well, and you feel the tears form in your eyes. law feels sick to his stomach.

your chest rises and falls fast. you turn to law, and he is standing at the doorway with a horrified look on his face. you frown immensely to keep yourself from crying again.

“you know what this is, don’t you?” you whisper. your voice is so weak and so broken. law feels his breath quicken and his heart beat faster. he doesn’t want to admit it, but both of you know. you need to hear his confirmation. you need to hear it.

“it’s a miscarriage…” he says.

you look at him one last time, then at the mess in between your legs. you tilt your head and break down again. your wails echo throughout the bathroom and the house. it reaches drago, and he cannot help but feel sorrow in his body; the pain you are suffering. law shuts his eyes at the sound of your crying. this counts as the third child you lost, the third heir. and it was his. you admitted that you hadn’t been with anybody in a long time until that night on the ship over two weeks ago. and then his heart breaks. this was his child.

the child you could have had. it wasn’t alive, but knowing that you could have had a chance to bear another child killed you on the inside. it killed law. you didn’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve to lose three children within seven years. you didn’t anger the gods. the curse that has been bestowed upon you is one no woman wishes to carry.

law can only feel grief for what could have been.

ch. 8 !

[bbq-hawks-wings]

BBQ rambledumps for the first time in a while. Been running D&D.

What's up, my beautiful fellow clowns, how we doing today? I just logged in on desktop mode and saw a new message in my inbox only to discover it's a porn bot and they're sending videos AND strange URLs directly now. YAY!

Thank God, blurring content from users who don't follow you was an actual improvements made to this hellsite after years of fumbling features. Progress is progress.

Anyway, I originally came here intending to write about my Fodlan D&D campaign because I'm due to show some actual creative capacity here for once and prove I haven't completely gelatinized into a lump of depression and exhaustion. So yeah, more nonsense under the cut.

Nice, the icons have been switched around a bit - they're a little easier to read now.

SO! I wanted to two-fold introduce the campaign setting and talk about my players/characters - whom I will be referring to by their characters' names exclusively (except maybe Atlas) - because I'm actually having a blast with it all, and maybe some of you will appreciate the various eccentricities of this gaggle at my table, too.

First, the setting:

I...

LOVE.

FODLAN.

Idegaf about Fire Emblem as a larger franchise or series - this PARTICULAR story is EXACTLY the kind of thing that makes all the happy chemicals in my brain go brrrrrrrrr.

There's drama, political intrigue, romance, deep lore, references to various real-world myths, references to various real-world PEOPLE, repeating thematic motifs, a complex and nuanced look at conflict and war, a complex and nuanced look at religion and history, AND THE OUTFITS ARE SPECTACULAR?!?!?!

And if I kept thinking about it we'd be here all day.

One of the hardest things for me as a very n00b DM is that I know most of the power of the game and enjoyment for my players comes from the world they exist and play in. If I don't have a good grasp of how all the strategic pieces fit together across the map, how am I going to let my players roam and interact with it like it's always been their own idea and not me actually scrambling to slap something together that's satisfying for them while also not completely toppling my campaign?

And here I have not only this entire RPG I adore and already want to know like the back of my hand, that has characters that I delight in mimicking and writing for, that has nearly all the wiki knowledge I could ask for, but I also have the PERFECT excuse to write my Golden Route and let all my little chess pieces live happily ever after somewhere, AND there's a campaign setting already made for 5e!

Is the DM set up to have a good time?

Yes

Absolutely

With my setting chosen, I now had to figure out the various big plot flags to hit that would put it on course for the ending I want. Some big considerations I particularly kept in mind included:

Edelgard MUST start the conflict. There is never a scenario in this multiverse (according to canon obv) where she does not strike first because it's in her character to strike first for both her own survival as well as to protect those she's taken charge of. The second she thinks she has what it takes to confidently take her next move before her opponent the plot lurches forward full speed. This is what predominately sets her apart from Claude who is quite similar about the lengths he's willing to go to win but he's typically much more reactionary while Edel is aggressively preemptive.

If I don't want Edelgard to have all of Fodlan immediately in a standoff for survival that just looks like the other games with the other nations because of the complications that TWSITD throw into the plot, the truth of the Nabataen race HAS to come to light to her before anyone else. That means that she has to know BEFORE she retakes the Empire for her own regime. This means a BIG MESS for the Church of Seiros to deal with start-to-finish over the course of the campaign.

Going along with the previous point, once the true nature of the Church, the Children of the Goddess, and just what ACTUAL Fodlan history is (and remember, Edel hates these people pretending they're divine when they're clearly not, she is NOT putting up with that nonsense), Faerghus is going to be PISSED even if there's complicated feelings about how the nobility came to be, and Claude's scheming will get kicked into overdrive. There's no way I can't see it happening. Even if the Nabateans have FULL support and protection of Edelgard (which they will sooner than later) the bloody history between them and the nobility of the Kingdom will reach a crescendo and the Nabateans will have a LOT to answer for regarding their involvement in Fodlan history.

Where I want it to end is for all of them to overcome Thales and TWSITD with the help of Shez and Byleth. As a result, Sothis will be fully revived, she'll reward and bestow special blessings to the entire cast, and then she'll ascend into the heavens once again - but this time taking her hand of protection off of the world, opening the setting up to "D&D proper" so the players can keep playing in the sandbox they've grown attached to if they want, but they get way more stuff to play with now and we can actually use the core books for more than just basic rules YAY!

With that all set up in the back of our heads, let's introduce our players - all of whom besides Atlas is completely blind to the original plot (MWUAHAHAHAHAHA):

Umbrae: A knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Umbrae's father was one of the the victims of the Tragedy of Duscur. Discontent with the ambiguous non-answers that have been found regarding the massacre, Umbrae is on a mission to discover the truth of what happened and why - no matter what sordid secrets may be revealed in the process - so that the chapter of anguish and uncertainty for the nation can come to a close and healing can properly begin.

Godfrey: Originally from the Adrestian Empire, Godfrey was an aimless wandering sell-sword until he met the love of his life, Josephine - a monk of the Church of Seiros whose tender kindness brought light and hope into the lives of those she touched. She joined him with his platoon of fighters during the outbreak of plague in the Kingdom to treat the sick and afflicted along the way; but no good deed goes unpunished. While Godfrey and his men were called away to respond to news of a threat, the camp was attacked by those who feared their involvement was spreading the sickness. Godfrey returned too late to save his wife and unborn child and has since sworn an oath to the Knights of Seiros, now once again aimless in his purpose with nowhere to place his grief and anger except upon the heads of the wicked with the edge of his sword.

Booferd: A lowly thief from the Adrestrian Empire - there's not a lot to Booferd yet because he's only been to the first session and has been stuck studying to keep his GPA up. He's fantastic at this game, though, and I'll make sure he gets the chance to have a great time whenever he can play. He called Balthus "ball-face" in RP and he's going to get inspiration points for that.

Atlas: Hailing from the far-off land of Morfis, Atlas is an escaped experiment victim of TWSITD on a mission to save his fellow victims still trapped back at the lab and wipe the scourge of the Agarthans off the face of the earth. Unlike the Fodlan branches of the Agarthans, this base in Morfis raised humans like lab rats a la The Promised Neverland to simulate and study various conditions and outcomes their human experiments underwent. Atlas, an exceptional subject, escaped and eventually found his way to the docks of Adrestia where Hubert found him - seemingly incomprehensible and insane at first but then deceptively brilliant upon patient inspection. Hubert secretly scooped him off the street before he made more ruckus, cleaned him up and trained him, and then planted the unnerving foreigner into Garreg Mach as his personal mole (because Rhea loves picking up strays) - seemingly unconnected in every way while funneling information, secrets, and the nifty little gadgets he makes to the young man and his emperor who promise him a proper payment for his services.

This post is getting long and I need to get the kids up from their nap. I have more, especially since we're about 4 sessions in, so I'll probably make a new post soon. Feel free to send any ideas on how to tag this.

[lostxcloud]

2023 Snowboarding Trip

Day 9: Mountain Roads

Hello!

Today started with a litany of different tactics to get me to join team Friendship on their last day of Snowboarding. I didn't. I feel bruised and tired, so I refused them.

They went out around 10, and were back by noon as a couple of members had taken some serious falls in the boardpark.

I, during this time, had showered and been down to the local shop, and was at base making sandwiches for the group when they all got back.

My mother was battling with her euro card as it kept on shutting itself down.

After lunch my sister switched her skis for a snowboard again and went out with my dad and least bruised brother, whilst my oldest little brother showered and took some ibuprofen.

Mother and I had been preparing the base for travel, and we're excited to sit down and watch some rugby. That's when the data issue hit. We had no data, my mother only had 2.5 GB left and when my dad had bought more data he'd bought an unlimited pack for his number then realised he couldn't share that out between us.

So we were watching the rugby using his phone. He wanted to get back out there again. So we switched to my mother's data and she ran out just as the first half ended.

Despite our protests, and the fact he'd been there 3 weeks, dad would not come back in, he wanted one more run. He's like a dog playing fetch. He just never wants it to end.

So I, using the free, slower data that we get access to after using the standard fare, watched the rest of the game on my phone.

After the match finished, dad was back and want gone as soon as possible.

So we headed down to Plagne Centrale to return my sister's rental skis. We then set off down the twisty mountain roads, which are always slightly concerning in a large van. Fortunately they were made to accommodate large buses of people coming in and out of the ski resorts.

We continued once down, round in a semi-circle, as the roads south through the mountains were closed. We stopped in Moutiers to try and reactivate the card, but failed, so we bought some pizza and then ate it in the town centre.

We headed further round to Orelles, a small town I'd seen just off the motorway and en route to our final destination of Milan. We got to the turn off of the motorway and were feeling pretty fine. Then the twisty mountain paths started. Dad said it reminded him of Nepal, we had to do a three point turn to get round one of the corners and it was very dark.

Still, we finally made it and immediately went to bed, whilst Dad, Mum and my bruised up brother watched the second rugby match (that we'd all missed) in the van.

Today's snap of the day is:

The river Isère running through Moutiers

[meganuzlockediary]

Heart Gold! Gym 1!

November 28th!

A new adventure!

I have heard these are tough and this first little part has definitely proven that.

So I loved soul silver as a kid however I am well aware of the region and pacing issues. I am hoping it won't be too much issue but the aim of these games is to beat Red thats when the nuzlocke is complete! That might require a lot of grinding and work we will see what happens.

So the game starts with me almost immediately choosing my starter! While Chikorita is my favourite I know it is not going to be the best for this run. I choose Cyndaquil and name him Blaze. He has a Bashful nature and is a pokemon I have almost never used! So I am excited to turn him into a right powerhouse.

I run around to pick up the pokemon egg from Mr Pokemon training Blaze up to level 7 before coming back and destroying my rivals Totodile. Once I'm back in new bark town we can start the nuzlocke and gain some Pokeballs. Now I am playing this at night which is essential for guaranteeing some encounters. First up I want a Hoothoot. Fortunately at night only rattata and HootHoot are around on route 29 so it is a guaranteed encounters as I have used a rattata before. I catch a Lax HootHoot and name her Athena.

Next up is route 30 again being at night I can guarantee a spinarak encounter. I catch a Lonely Spinarak which I name Spins.

Last but not least I move ahead to route 32 to catch the final night time encounter Wooper. Now Mareep did have a chance to appear here which would also be a fine too and would make the first gym easier. Fortunately I do manage to get a Quirky wooper named Swampy!

I was debating getting the onix trade in Violet city and in hindsight it might have been a good idea. So skipping it I head to Sprout Tower for lots of training and get all my pokemon to level 12. Spinarak was an absolute pain. Its moves are so rubbish.

Now I am intimidated by falkner. I have no Supereffective moves so I just employ the best strategy I can. I start with HootHoot vs Pidgey. HootHoots keen eye helps against the pidgeys sand attacks allowing me to take it doen with just a few tackles.

Pidgeotto is a lot tougher! My aim is to get a free switch with hypnosis. The first misses the second lands allowing me to switch into cyndaquil. I quickly discover that ember and tackle do barely anything. The ever present threat of roost is not fun plus Pidgeotto has a high attack for this level in the game. I do my best to ungabunga my way through hoping for a burn with ember until cyndaquil is too low to continue. I switch to Wooper to tank some hits but he can only get chip damage too. I quickly realise a sack is needed. I send in spinarak hoping to lower pidgeottos speed with scary face. The pidgeotto does manage to outspeed and two shot however. This does allow me to throw cyndaquil back out who fortunately does outspeed anyway and manage to KO the Pidgeotto with ember.

A very stressful first boss fight. I need to be much more prepared and use every advantage I can get. I could have used Onix easily to make this battle much easier. Next time I should have a mareep to make life easier. Hopefully there's less drama in the future.

Badges won: 17

Pokemon Caught: 47

Pokemon Down: 11

[ihaveafandom-problem554]

Hey, could I request a upper three x milf reader. Like she's rui's human møther replacement, but she genuinely cares for her family. Shw calls oni her little 'koibito', or her sweetheart, and spoils all of her 'children' when she goes down to the village with sweet treats to make and little toys?

I read this so many times with the biggest smile on my face.

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

Older Spider Brother = Ani (It was the name I found on the Wiki)

Older Spider Sister = Ane ( Her name was actually Ane not Oni, I might go back to naming her Oni though-), Koibito (Sweetheart)

Ok lets just say Ani can switch from his spider form to a human-looking form

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

You exited the small market filled with your koibito's favorite pastries and sweets as you entered another market, this time filled with Ani's favorite snacks.

This continued until you had everyone's favorite snack or play thing.

Straight to the woods you went after finishing buying everyone’s desires. You lived near the Mountain where it was rumored to have demons.

Anyone who walked in never came back out.

Who ever did later died days later, their last words being

"I was disturbing their perfect family"

You only smiled at the thought of it happening to you. Your smile getting bigger at the words 'perfect family'.

You stopped walking once you reached a hot spring with clean spider themed kimono sitting next to it. You placed the treat filled bags under a tree as you took off your current kimono. Now undressed, you took a short bath in the hot spring to wash off all the wisteria from your body.

Once finished, you put on your spider kimono and grabbed the bags and proceed to walk towards your house.

And Once you open the door, the first thing you heard was-

“WOULD YOU STOP EATING MY SNACKS YOU FREAK!” Your spider daughter yelled at her older spider brother. Ani’s only response was to spit his poison at her and laugh. Thank goodness Ane missed just barely.

“WHAT THE HELL YOU PRICK!? THIS ISN’T FUNNY” Ane yelled. “Ani, What have I said about using your poison in the house? And apologize to your sister” You say as you walked inside.

Ani scoffed, “Why should I? She called me a freak-OW” he screamed as he turn into his more human like form to touch is head that just got backhand slapped. 

“OW! What was that for!?”

“Apologize to your sister, like your dear mother had ask.” your husband, Akaza, demanded as he held a sleeping Rui. Ani held the back of his head once more before reluctantly turning over to his sister, who now wore a smug smirk across her face. 

“Hmph, even though your very poor when it comes to apologizing. I guess I’ll take it.” Ane taunted. “Ok now your asking for more poison-”

“Keep the poison to yourself, or else you don’t get to see what’s in the bag” You threaten holding up the multiple bags you had in your hands. The two spider siblings quickly rushed over to you to see what was in the bag.

Treats, toys, tools (You don’t understand why they want those) Different teas and baked goods.

When the spider siblings walked away with their new belongings, you went over to your husband and youngest child. The second you sat down next to them, you got forced right back up.

“Akaza, I’m fine!” You playfully complained. “Nope, Stay still”

You giggled at Akaza being concerned for you. He checked you up and down to see if you had any bruises, cuts, burns, scratches, rashes, literally anything that doesn’t belong on your body.

As he looked around your body, you started to pose for him. “Can you stop posing, I can’t find any-”

“I’m putting on a show! you should be grateful!”

“Eh- Pose once more I need a camera!”

“Ani...broke the...last one with his poison..” A sleepy Rui said snuggling deeper into Akaza’s hold. “Hi Rui! how was your day?” You say taking him from Akaza. “Father backhand slapped Ani 13 times today”

“Why did you count?”

“AKAZA!”

“WHAT!? He can take it!”

“We spoke about this!”

“He’s a lower rank 2 in the making, he has potential!”

...

Both You and Rui gave Akaza a disappointed look.

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

No this is not ending yet. I just lost the courage to continue writing this so here are some headcanons..

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

Affection towards Older spider brother, Ani

Someone put a warning anytime this guy shows up like damn

- .....

- See, it's hard enough to even strike a conversation with him

- He favors Akaza more than you

- And he has no shame saying it out loud

- But-but even though he can be an ass, he has a weak spot for the snacks you buy him and when you cup his face

- He can't take physical affection well

- He's the only one who doesn't know what to do when you hug him, so he just stands there

- He loves the snacks you get him

- very different from human meat

- He doesn't like the toys you get him so he gives it to Rui

- But if you get Ane toys he takes hers and claims that her toys are better

- Do you take care of his spider underlings?

- No

- Akaza's really aggressive with him

- In his eyes, Ani is a lower moon in the making

- So, the second you leave the house

- Akaza enters the house to train him

- Ani loves Akaza more than you because Akaza allows him to spit his acid/poison around the house

- Yes you come home to holes in the walls

- Your little koibito

- Such an angel

- She favors you more than Akaza

- Loves literally anything you do

- Vows to become just like you

- You love to hug her the second you get the chance

- And she always accepts them

- She always by your side

- Loves to be held by you on bad days

- You both love to snuggle with each other

- Akaza loves to take pictures of you two when the both of you fall asleep

- Akaza doesn’t know what to with ‘little women’ so he spoils her with treats before bed (Which you forbid)

- For some strange reason, he’s an expert on hair, so he does Ane’s hair all the time

- If she wanted something you already said no to, she’s going straight to Akaza to ask the same question because she knows he’ll say yes

- Akaza also loves to carry her on his back

- But of course, this won’t be Akaza if he didn’t think she’ll be a perfect lower moon in the making

- So yes, she has to train too

- “Hug me”

- “Hold me”

- “I want affection”

- “Mother, carry me”

- “Father, Mother is choosing Ane over me... She claims she no longer loves me-”

- He’s adorable

- and clingy

- VERY clingy

- Needs to be held at least 9 times a day or else all hell is set free

- Doesn’t have a favorite

- But if he had to choose it would be you

- But then it’ll be Akaza

- He can’t decide

- He loves it when you sit down with him

- Mainly because he sees it as an opportunity to climb on you to cuddle

- “Jesus, Akaza can you stop trying to train the kids into being lower moons?”

- “I’m not just training them to be lower moons...Rui would make a great upper moon! He has-”

- “Potential? Yeah Akaza baby, no, that’s not happening”

- Once you leave, its training time

- He’s very aggressive when it comes to training Rui

- He personally thinks that Muzan mis-ranked the moons, he believes Rui should be lower moon 2 at least

- Akaza just wants his kids to be upper moons like him

- But they do have their cuddle moments

- Doesn’t understand why you bought him plushies

- But Once you offered to take it back and get him treats instead, he didn’t want to give it back

- ....

“Before you go out into the village, put wisteria all over your body to rid off any demons. I saw a hot spring not too far from here. Wash off the wisteria before you come in here”

“Ok Akaza”

“Always take the route Rui showed you. No shortcuts”

“Ok Akaza”

“Do not get injured on the way here. We might have to train harder if-”

“Akaza..Please shut up”

- You love him, but he’s very protective

- Sometimes he won’t let you leave the house

*Insert Protective Hugs* 

- You also have to train with the family, so Akaza doesn’t have to worry about you defending yourself

“NO! Baby look. The second the guy looks at you, you must give him a uppercut and break his nose. Then you tell him, if you ever look at me again.. I’ll get my stronger than Kokushibou sexy ass husband to beat your ass.”

“......I’m not doing that.”

“....Could you at least say it?”

- You have to start cuddle sessions because he sees it as a sign of weakness (he loves them though)

- He also loves the snacks you get him

- He loves Training  taking care of the kids

- He does the dad thing where he puts the all the kids on his back and does push up!

- Douma teases him for having a lower moon family

- Douma loves to come over To eat you

- Don’t worry Akaza deals with him

- Ngl Kokushibou also comes over

- Ani’s first reaction to him was-

“This motherfucker got 6 fucking eyes... Allergy season must be a pain in the ass-”

“ANI! Don’t say that to guests!”

- Kokushibou likes Ani for an odd reason

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

I think I went off topic-

[lilyblackdrawside]

This is a list of my PERSONAL evaluations of the operators I use in IS2.

I'm writing this because I want to do SOMETHING but can't bring myself to anything good from being exhausted by 24/7 heat.

You can take these mostly at face value, I'm not going to just be joking around, but I also write these with some consideration to the core operators I have in 99% of my runs, without whom some of these may not perform as well as I’m describing them.

Vangs

I just pick Myrtle at some point in my runs. Usually towards the second half. Unless you're going for the Extra Boss it's pretty feasible to just not have any Vanguards, in my opinion.

There's also this thing where my roster of Vanguards consists of 6 Elite 2s and Plume. 5 of these Elite 2s have 1 block, 2 of them are Standard Bearers.

My Vanguards aren't for combat. Is this questionable practice? In IS, yes. Outside of it? No.

I deploy light units so I don't need to run Vangs.

On the rare occasion that I aim for Lucian I pick Elysium instead of Myrtle because my team will be mostly Snipers.

Siege (my one 2-block Vanguard) has performed well for me, but I've always picked her very begrudgingly, what with her being a 6-star.

Guards

Outside of IS I play Guardknights, Sniperknights or both at once. Within IS2 I pick either 1 or 2 very specific Guards depending on my route. Sometimes extra depending on my mood (and recruitment vouchers.)

Bibeak - In theory performs really well, in practice just doesn't. She doesn't get much out of The Hand, what with it "only" boosting her auto-attack, for which any other beneficiary of The Hand is preferred, she also pairs exceedingly well with the "Guards gain 2 extra sp per attack", since it gives her 4 sp per attack and she has a stack-holding on-hit charging skill with which she can perma-stun anything not stun immune.

This isn't worthwhile. Most things that you’d want to stun are immune. Will she completely invalidate the Rock Golem Boss if you bait one stun for her? Yes. Is the Rock Golem Boss a problem in the first place? Usually not.

It makes me sad, but she has never played a relevant role in my runs, even when I had amazing relics for her. By all accounts she should be amazing, but she isn't.

Cutter - Imagine Bibeak, but with physical damage. I haven't picked her much, and when I did she performed okay. It's super fun to press her Skill 1 and see all of her knives just annihilate a single target. She's also never been outstanding for me, but she does have the potential.

Probably. Cutter, please do something, you have all the masteries.

La Pluma - Now we're talking. She's amazing. She clears the map, never dies, files your taxes and works with everything.

I'm not lying. She works with every single relic. Extra charge for on-hit skills, more damage in any form, more healing, every single Guard-specific relic, more attack (Her S1 is %atk). I can't think of a single good run that didn't involve her. She's one of my most important operators.

Actually, I can think of some runs that didn't involve her - the ones that go for Lucian. It's not like she's bad there, she just doesn't do anything that nobody else could do. A lot of other people can hold the central choke after all, and if I ever picked extra ground units I could probably drop her onto him on the top left spot and watch her cut him up from behind.

Specter - I've picked her a few times and she has a bunch of good uses.I mean, she can become unkillable. Obviously there are uses for this. Be that half of the possible first bosses, just tanking something (and chunking it at the same time) or whatever.

Her only issue is that Centurions kinda suck when they're not Elite 2? She's good, but has never been essential. Her damage is pretty choice though.

Lappland - The few times I've had her she's done pretty well. There are a whole bunch of targets for her silence, being able to switch between physical and arts damage is quite handy, she can hit air. What doesn't she do? I dunno. I'd probably pick her more often IF I COULD EVER FIND ENOUGH GUARD VOUCHERS.

Mousse - Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse Mousse.

Going for Big Sad Lock? Pick Mousse, thank me later. It's okay if she spends the entire journey sitting on the bench, she'll make herself worthwhile just for the boss. Let her have some fun on that oversized scratching post. Watch one of my BSL clear videos somewhere on my blog to see what she does to it (Hint: It's not damage.)

Defenders

Liskarm - She's aight. She really benefits from the relics that passively charge on-hit/on getting hit skills, but then her skills also practically have doubled costs since she already double-charges on taking a hit so the relics are only half-effective. You can do some fun stuff with her talent to super-charge other operators, just like in normal stages. I only pick her when the game throws too many Defender vouchers at me, which honestly isn't that often. The Defender Hand works with her, but I honestly don't think it's that good. A lot of stuff that'll hit you either also inflicts Nervous Impairment or has annoyingly high resist. I mean, if you have the hand you have extra incentive to pick her since you're already picking her to let her get hit.

Give her a break... She can shoot people just fine.

Mudrock - More like Roadblock, amiright. She solos the first two floors as long as the stages only have one exit. An Elite 2 Mudrock handles the singing puppet with some mild assistance in the form of either arts damage or some kind of debuff, with just some functional relics (better charge on her skills, more effective healing, less atk on enemies) she solos it. She's also good against... the enrage guy.

She is good in a lot of stages, especially the Lancer ones. She also perfectly blocks the entire left side on Big Sad Lock.

She's really good, well worth the 6 Hope and she also works really well with all of the Defender-specific relics. More damage is more damage and two of them do just that, more health means more healing, less cost means no Vangs.

Ashlock - Early on she's a good blocker and deals good damage even while blocking. Her damage and attackspeed are the same as when she's firing her lance, just without the splash.

Then once you have a team that she can sit behind she's just so good. Being effectively a ranged dps that sits on the floor is really good on a lot of stages that limit ranged-tiles (Bob stage with the slugs, Traveler from afar) and her damage output is just excellent. If you're in need for someone who clears the right side dancers on Lucians stage, she does that. If you need someone who damages the center-area on Lucians stage, she does that too. She also deals good damage to Lucian himself. She’s also a great damage dealer for BSL. She just pushes so much damage, it's great. And of course she scales amazingly well with all of the frankly broken Defender relics. Really,  +60% atk, +40 aspd / +40% atk (and -1 block). They only gave these to the Defenders because they do no damage normally.

Hah, that's where they're wrong. I only have Defenders that deal damage. (and Cuora and Heavyrain because I like them and they're special and great.)

I don't pick any other Defenders. Unless they're free. Eunectes could theoretically be good since she's a huge stat stick that gets even huger with all the % boosts, but she just can't charge her skills in a good way and is too clunky and inflexible. Sorry, Zumama.

Snipers

Fartooth - I don't pick Fartooth but I'd love to. All the stages are designed against her.

Did you know that she has a talent where she ignores an enemy's Evade? She does. I'd love to utilize it against Lucian, but the stage is laid out in such a way that she can't get a clean hit on him with her out-of-range bonus active unless you have the white shoes.

It'd be so sick. It wouldn't even be outstanding, I'd just love to do it. I'd also love to use her against Big Sad Lock because she'd do great damage to it in a way that even minimizes its counter-bursts (not that I ever cared about that), but on that stage you would have to place her at the very bottom center on the floor and that's just too clunky. She'd never get a shot in! There's too much trash in the way that distracts her!

An unfortunate case. But even if she did work on the bosses, she's not terribly useful for normal stages I'm afraid.

Ambriel - Bring her for Extra Boss. Also she's funny once you get enough aspd to allow her to perma stun people.

Archetto - She's great. Her damage is great, it works well with Spinach/Siracusan Curry, all of the on-hit charge relics, other attack boosts, just wonderful.

The problem is that she's a 6-star. She's a luxury, but I WILL pick her if I go to Lucian because it is too funny to pass up on. Be that watching her annihilate the dancers or go to town on the center area.

GreyThroat - I pick her as a dedicated Lucian killer. I place her on the very top left and she snipes him down from 100 to 0 with Pramanix and Skalter support, and some Elemental Medic healing.

But even outside of that she just delivers overall excellent damage. Not outstanding and she lacks any kind of utility, but she does a good job and DOESN'T cost 6 hope.

May - 10/10, 100 points, gold star, best unit, just pick her 12 times and watch her go.

She's the La Pluma of ranged units. Arguably, La Pluma is the May of melee units.

She perma-slows or stuns enemies, she wrecks both Duck Lord and Gopnik (with some help on the latter), her damage gets insane with some lucky relics, your ear drums will rupture once you hit the +150 aspd threshold, she's a 4 star, what more could you want? I pick May on literally every run. She is always my first Sniper to pick, outside of free recruits and even then I WILL pass up free recruits for May she is just THAT GOOD. If you have enough hope for a 6-star operator you have enough hope for May, because she will be a better choice.

Pinecone - Look at how they've massacred my girl. Look at the stage designs! They're so terrible. She has the potential for greatness, but suffers the same problems that Fartooth has. Unfortunate range-limitations and lack of utility. She even scales amazingly well with a lot of relics.

I shed a tear everytime I pass her up, knowing she'd just be sitting on the bench.

Toddifons - I like to pick her but she doesn't do much. Why do I pick her then? Because it's funny to watch her fire at unreasonably high speeds. She does do pretty well against Lucian's dancers and there are quite a few stages with Sarkaz enemies where she can flex her massive x1.45 damage bonus (x1.5 if you have enough Potential on her.).

Her unique Besieger range is also pretty handy on a bunch of stages, like Drone... Factory? The one in the final stage that's basically the Skill Book Farm Stage (when did I last go there...).

By no means necessary, but I do always feel at ease going into that one with her on my roster.

She's fine, I pick her for the funnies.

W - I used to pick her to handle the Dancers, but have since found cheaper (or funnier (Archetto)) alternatives.

If she didn't cost 6 hope to recruit, I'd love to pick her.

That is to say, her Skill 2 is quite excellent since she can set it up during breaks, which a lot of stages have, and with extra charge rate relics she'll block up your deployment tiles faster than you can remove her bombs.

Meteorite - Honorable mention, I won't generally bring up Free Recruitment Operators that I haven’t raised personally, but that one time I got her she was just way too good.

Usually her Skill 1 is held back by her terrible aspd, but with some charge-relics and/or Archetto (who charges at 1sp/2.5s, so the second best quality version) she gets her skill on basically every attack and it just hits so hard. She doesn't even need to crit, but you will notice them. I didn't even have Spinach, so I can only imagine how powerful it'd be with that.

All that being said, aoe damage is all she brings to the table and I don't find that to be terribly worthwhile in the grand scheme of things. She is incredibly fun to watch and that is the most important thing, but I like picking operators for the final boss I intend to face and they will then also handle the challenges on the way there. Usually I'll have easy space for operators that won't do much in the final battle, but the sniper vouchers are pretty hotly contested for me I'm afraid.

Sniperknights for life, you know.

Casters

Medics

If I go Lucian I -

Okay, okay.

I think Casters are a semi-necessary evil in IS2, since almost all Challenge stages give enemies increased defense, which in the early game can easily lead to me getting overrun as May's taser gets turned into a toy gun. I also prefer to just fill the arts damage slots with Supporters like Pramanix, Glaucus or Orchid, but there are some casters I will consistently pick when I get a voucher for them.

Kjera - I like her. She's blue, she's nice to me, she's always so reassuring to have around and makes me happy.

She's also a Drone Caster and Drone Casters are excellent in any situation where you can buff their attack-stat.

Guess what you can do in IS.

She also brings Cold/Freeze, both of which are excellent status effects, especially Freeze, since it's a stun that also allows her to bypass enemy resistance in a good way.

Given that aspd-increases are also relatively consistent to come by, she is very reliable in inflicting Freeze all by herself or keeping Cold applied permanently on targets that are immune to freezing.

Click - "Oh, a Caster Voucher. Really would've rather had anything else, but okay. Wait, I only have 2 hope."

Steward - You'd think I'd make the same joke here that I went for with Click, but no. Steward is unironically good in this game mode because of one. simple. thing:

Power Strike α . It scales with attackspeed, it scales with Spinach/the middle one that you have to unlock first that "only" gives +65% over Spinach's +60%, what's the deal with that/Siracusan Curry, it deals great damage. His single-target damage is outstanding and if you happen to have the right relics he will outdamage operators of higher rarity.

His talent that makes him target high-def enemies first (just like Ceobe with Skill 2 active) is honestly very hit or miss, but I've had it work in my favour more often than not.

It's just a shame that there aren't more casters with on-hit-charge auto-fire skills, because if there were, I'd pick them more often. I guess I could raise Dusk and give her Mastery 3 on Skill 1, but when have I ever raised an operator for a single, silly purpose.

Medics

Am I going for Big Sad Lock? Ptilo.

Am I going for Lucian? Mulberry.

My Medic roster is small and every single one of them has been raised with a very specific reason.

Ptilopsis and Silence have been raised because I like them. They also turned out to be quite excellent at their jobs and I like to bring Ptilo to facilitate certain strategies and to generate DP.

Warfarin is Ptilopsis partner in crime in facilitating dubious strategies with her +90% no drawbacks attached I promise attack buff.

Whisperain I've leveled because look at her. I love her.

Same goes for Mulberry. She happens to be an Elemental-healing Medic, but I didn't raise her for that purpose, though she is quite excellent at that.

Her Skill 1 has the highest consistent single-target healing output in the game... when buffed by a Bard.

I pretty much always field Skalter. Skalter also buffs Whisperain in a really good way, since it amplifies her talent's passive regen effect.

And that's it. Those are all my Medics. Do I have the Ex-Wife available? Yes. Do I have Nightingale and Shining hanging around? Sure. Will I level them? No. Maybe Shining, for Aak.

I won't level Nightingale because I feel like she's too much of a universal answer to arts damage in a way that no other operator can replicate and I don't want to fall into that. I will always find a way around arts damage without her, even H8-4. Eventually. Just haven't felt like going there for a long time.

Is this 90% just rambling about how I don't bother much with Medics? Yes. Thank Skalter and my choices in ground operators for that. Skalter makes medics twice as strong and also twice as benchable.

Supporters

I've already mentioned Supporters previously, but there's a little more to them.

Magallan - Picked her once on my first regular clear. She's just fine at elite one sicne she can stall in the grandest ways possible.If you get her as a free recruit, give her a shot.

Her Skill 2 drones aren't good, but her Skill 3 ones deal amazing damage and you can place them very aggressively by timing her skill with their invisibility. This is the same as in regular gameplay, but there is that +50% atk to summons relic. I don't ever actually pick her because I tend to not get Supporter Vouchers nearly enough or at the right times, but she's aight.

Deepcolor - If you get a Supporter Voucher to start with, feel free to pick her! She's amazing at dealing with any early threat. She's especially funny with the Brokenblade since with halved redeploy time you can just toss tentacles around recklessly and recover them in half a minute.

The downside of Summoners in normal gameplay is that they'll usually run into the unit-deploy cap, but in IS this is rarely an issue until the lategame. She's cheap to recruit and quite competent. She does her job at Elite 1 and can be phased out as the roster fills. Might sound like a waste, but to get to the lategame sometimes you need a Jagen so you can greed early on.

Skalter - I'm honestly not sure if she's amazing, but I always pick her since she works really well for me. flat attack increases are always good, especially wehn you run a lot of skills that do %atk modifiers. I also like to pick operators that can't be healed normally (Mudrock, La Pluma) and the extra regen is very appreciated.

Any attack-buff relics you get that affect Skadi effectively splash over again onto anyone she buffs.

The +35% for ranged units relic turns into an extra +21% for everyone with Skill 2 Mastery 3.

Increased defense also goes a long way. I've had runs without her where I've won just fine and she's by no means necessary, but I will always pick her.

Another nice thing is that her Seaborn fella spreads the atk/def/res debuffs that the Supporter relics can grant, if you have them.

Glaucus - She's fine. I never really need her,  but she does her thing. You know, anti air and stuff. One caveat is that the baloons aren't classified as drones, so she won't prioritize them and doesn't get her damage bonus/stun from Skill 2 (not that the stun over the bind makes a difference here). Her skill 1 also performs quite well early on when you may not have that many operators available and slows/binds in general are nice to snack a Duck Lord or Gopnik.

Pramanix - I pick her to kill Lucian. She does other things well, like giving a massive aspd debuff and her def/res downs are always appreciated, but I mainly get her for him.

Supporters also have some rather nice relics that mostly rely on enemies being in their range to deliver extra atk/def/res debuff, which Pramanix does well since she has such a large area.

Orchid - Glaucus Light. Don't make her work too much.

Specialists

I hardly pick Specialists! They've got some amazing relics, but my roster was limited to Kafka, Gladiia, Frost and Aak when IS2 started and has recently been expanded to also include Mr. Nothing after he performed quite well for me in IS and Invitation to Wine and also Mizuki because I kinda just wanted an Ambusher Specialist and he's just so wet. Just... soaked. You deploy him and Ceylon activates her talent. I'm even giving him a Mastery 3. Will I make frequent use of him? Probably not. Is he pretty cool and interesting? Yeah, yeah.

I don't use Gravel.

Mr. Nothing - He's a beefy boy. He's just loaded on stats. Honestly probably not as good as Jaye. I don't have Jaye raised, but I hear he's quite good. But I'm sticking with my boy Nothing.

He's just so flexible. He does everything - good damage, aspd debuffs, tanking, talking nonstop as you try your hardest to get him into the one stance you need him to be in COME ON NOTHING MATE I NEED YOU IN THE TWO BLOCK STANCE OR WE'LL ALL DIE.

Kafka - Picked her once. Don't remember how it went. This is just a shoutout to all the fast-redeploy Specialists. I know you're there. I know you're probably good. I'm not utilizing you on purpose. I raised Kafka because I like her. I'm not not raising you lot because I dislike you, but because I don't particularly care about that style of play. I don't get any kissies, I don't get to go over Home and receive 200 LMD and that one slug did just run past my defenses.

Gladiia - She does it. What does she do? All the things. Unlike Mr. Nothing she does them all at once. Solid single-target damage? Check. Survivability? Check. Hits air? Check. Sucks every enemy into a whirlpool of despair? Check. (only if you promote her though.)

Gladiia is honestly just the same as in regular gameplay. She's a downsized Ranged Guard in the same way that Weedy is a downsized Aoe Guard.

She's quite good on the poison mist stages in particular since she can make excellent use of that single hole they have.

Weedy - On that note, Weedy. She's not quite as flexible as Gladiia, but she's a more justifiable early pick due to her aoe-damage being good at dealing with small fry.

If you get the +2 shift strength relic and grab Angelina she can shove Lucian! Is this useful? No.

Is it funny? Yes. Hosing down the maddest cat while he's on stage singing and dancing is just hilarious.

(Also she can't actually shove him, because the relic doesn't apply to her cannon. I just want you to imagine the scenario.)

She's good. Honestly not worth 6 hope. If you have the Shift Strength relic then an elite 1 Shaw can handle the left lane on Big Sad Lock with a medic. Doesn't even have to be anyone more prestigious than Hibiscus, but you'll probably have to clear the stage in a decent amount of time or she'll get overwhelmed by the heavier enemies.

Frost - Frost is sooooo good. You can pick her early as an Anti-air Sniper-like. She effectively does the same thing, but she also brings traps. These traps will deal amazing damage, even moreso if you get her to Elite 2 with mastery on Skill 2. (Use the Skill 2 traps, they're better)

But her real utility lies in the Bind of her Skill 2 traps. She easily handles Duck Lord by herself and allows you to handle Gopnik with as little extra damage as what Orchid provides in the early stages and those extra relics they drop can help you snowball your way to the end.

She's also great for the Sarkaz Lancer and Ergate stages (except for the one on the last floor in Challenge mode where the Lancers are invisible). I used to pick her all the time and now I tend to see the holes her absence leaves.

And that's about it. My core consists of La Pluma, May and Skadi with Mudrock always on BSL, usually on Lucian paths and either of Ptilopsis or Mulberry, depending on the path.

Beyond that, I've made my favourites clear, but I have a lot of options and am always happy to take free recruitments to check out new operators, or just different skills on operators I've already raised.

[tare-anime]

SxF Chapter 54

(Beware spoilers)

Oh. My. Gawd!!!

The long awaited chapter turned out to be so intense!!

But first.... can we appreciate Endo and his love for details???

This opening panel. Oh my gawd....

That details..... 🥰🥰🥰🥰 we can see where Yor and co was, and where the rest of the crowd were.

Anyway.....

This past month had make me so anxious. So glad to see Yor is still alright by the end of the match. And that McMahon is still alive too!!

But but.... so is Sniff Job and I was quite surprised to see Evil Frankie being so evil!! He really didn't care of the live of innocent people, as long as he got the most advantage out of it.

"The assassins failed?? Fine... I'll do it myself!"

😨😨😨😨

And he choose to do it with a bang.

Literally.

2 bombs??? OmG!!

Ahem. Anyway, thankfully the chapter played out with enough comedy as usual.

This Anya new faces!! 🤣🤣

I can't...... 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Guuuhhh! You're so smart and cute, Anya!!! So precious!!

To forget all about her mother at first, but she made up by able to locate her mom's location, eliminate 2 wannabe assassins, and deliver Mom's weapon that secure her mom's victory!!

And she's younger than 6 years old.

Amazing!!

Btw, Loid remembered his promise to search for Yor. Was that 100% for Anya's sake, or.... deep down inside you really miss your wife, eh?? 😏 I see that you have to look elsewhere there, Loid.... a sign of people who were lying 😏😏

Btw, I knew it that Anya would be the one that found Yor's knive

And despite only ever see it in Yor's mind, Anya knew immediately that the knive is Yor's. Amazing

On the side note, I am so glad Endo spared Anya from witnessing the slaughter, and by extension, saving her from being a collateral damage from the assassins war, by her not finding a stair to go straight to her Ma's location. (She's still a kid!!)

Instead, Endo showed us how much Anya's throwing technique has grown!!

I am so proud of her!!!

From being unable to take a good aim with a mere ball, to being able to throw heavy pointed object to the higher ground???

Again... she was not yet 6 year old!!!

Amazing!!

Then, we see Loid in his element. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing a goofy more laidback Loid, but when he switched into his Twilight mode, we're once again be reminded why he was one to be called "the best".

So observant (he knew which one is the SSS officers, can read lips talk, changed into disguises and found the bomb location via mere observation), calculative (knew which route/action to take), and has skills far greater than those SSS officers in defusing the bomb, while at the same time analyzing the situations.

He was not blind by the fact that Westalians were not that innocents. There are bad people in his country too. But at the same time, he acted like a great spy and soldier, and trust his agency wholeheartly. (Will he ever be bertrayed by WISE? Because for sure WISE was not 100% good either. It's the nature of politics).

I hope his experiences and observation skills are enough to make him realized the second bomb whereabout. I mean, he seemed like he was thinking of something here.

Then, last but not least, Yor's fight! She had been so awesome in parring with the swordsman while having no weapon at all

(so I guess Yor only bring 3 of her knives in each job, eh? She lost one when she tried to counter attack the sniper, one was broken by the tough fat guy with a mace, and one was thrown at the lower deck which then returned by Anya)

I love how Endo draw the intensity in Yor's fight.

And I love love loooooveeee how Endo draws her back!! OmG!! 🥰🥰🥰 I never see a mangaka draw female chara's back so muscled and powerful and tough!! (With my limited knowledge of manga obviously, but I mean... look at this!)

Her muscles were so tense! It was so much different than her bare back usually drawn when she was at the Forger house, or when she went to do her routine activities (her shoulders were usually a bit slumped)

This kind of back pose was usually drawn for male warrior chara, to give a sense of "security" and "awe" to the reader (Like Zoro from One Piece, from example. I always adore his bare back btw.)

This just emhpasized that during her job, Yor IS a warrior. Used to "killed or to be killed" kind of situation, just like McMahon has said.

Endo even give her this classic warrior duel scene

Too bad the swordsman have to succumb to Yor's suppremacy. I was hoping to see him alive at least. So honorable. Even till the end.

I can't thank you Endo enough for feeding my simp towards the Queen. Guuhh..... Yor supremacy!!! 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

Still, I finally can sighed in relieve with Anya, when I saw that Yor's fight was finally over

Poor Yor, she was so tired.

But has the fight really end?? Can 2 bullet really finished Sniff Job off???

Has McMahon survived?

And what about the second bomb???

The arc is not over yet!!! Endo always managed to throw more curve ball, everytime I thought that we already enter the closure of the arc. Ohooohh!!

I can't wait to read more!!!

[sobeverly]

Low and behold.. this is most definitely a guilty pleasure fic

{3.0k words}

Includes: violence, Scream 3 canon and non-canon events, OOC, it’s ghostface

I like to normally write as elusive to a character as possible, but for this I went for Courtney— Denise Richards 90’s

Yes I put together the image above (Yes I have too much time on my hands)

P.S. Love, Hate, Love by Alice In Chains is the song used

Cotton knew one thing for sure. The traffic he is currently in would be the death of him. He rolled his eyes as he listened to Andrea; his agent.

“Moving on to the Hollywood Freeway, we have a multiple vehicle, multiple injury accident. An absolute mess from Pine Street to the Valley. If you're on it, expect a long commute, if not, seek alternate routes.” A dull reporter voiced on the radio— Cotton turned the volume down not caring to hear about the accident.

“If Dan doesn't want to do a daily rate, we can talk about a weekly rate, but I'm telling you right now, I won't go under a million. I mean think about it, I'm risking my reputation as the host of this country's number one nationally syndicated Talk Show to do a cameo in some cheap slasher pic. I mean, why can't these guys write me a fuckin decent part, ya know, I lived through the fuckin thing. By the way, you talk to Kathy about that Navy Seal Script?,” his other line rang, “Hang on a sec.”

He brought the other phone to his ear and spoke, “Hello?,” he tried to be as cordial as possible but his patience was wearing thin.

When he heard a woman’s voice he raised his brows, “Hello?,” her voice was faintly alluring but he was ready to call it a night.

“Who’s this?” Cotton spoke nonchalantly then leaned his head to the side to peer around cars ahead of him.

“Who’s this?” The alluring voice responded.

Cotton ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth then sighed, “Who are you calling?”

“Oh, you know what, I’m sorry, I have the wrong number.” She finished with a slight hum to her tone. Her mishap brought a small smirk to his lips.

“That’s okay.” His charm slowly made its way to the surface as he realized this call could be more enjoyable than the other one he was on.

“Hey, wait a minute, I know your voice. You sound a lot like that guy on TV.” As she pondered, a grin appeared on his face. “Um… uh… Cotton Weary!” Her cheer brought out a genuine confidence in him. Not one that he was unfamiliar with.

“I do, huh?” He eyed the break lights in front of him and light tapped his fingers on his steering wheel. This call was definitely more enjoyable.

“Yeah… I think he’s got a really sexy voice.” She purred and he suddenly felt the urge to put his voice to good use— more than his talk show.

He laughed, “Oh well, thank you.”

He enjoyed the small gasp from her end of the line, “Wait a minute, you are Cotton, aren’t you? Oh my God, I am talking to Cotton Weary. I can’t believe it.”

With a newfound intrigue he knew he wanted to stick around to talk, “Ya got me. Look, can you hold on a second? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Once he heard her hum of approval he switched to his other line. Mumbling farewells to Andrea as he ignored her pleas and ended the call.

“So, you a big ‘100% Cotton’ fan?” The flirt was quick to leave his mouth.

“Yeah, 110%” Her voice dripped in lust. It reminded him that he was thoroughly lacking in that department. With Courtney, his younger sister, living with him it grew harder to find time to bring someone home.

“That’s very good. So, uh, why don’t you tell me who you are?” He was not completely desperate. There was a possibility this was a journalist, but a part of him did not care.

“You’re a naughty boy Cotton. How could we play when she’s around? Though she's very pretty, I don’t think I’d mind too much.” His charm immediately drained.

“Who are you talking about?” His jaw clenched momentarily then released with a heavy breath.

A metallic click filtered through the phone and with that a voice he thought he’d never hear again spoke through the phone, “You know exactly who I’m talking about. I’ve been watching her for a while, Cotton. I’m right outside her bathroom door.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He had played this game before. He would not go through that again- especially not with Courtney. She had been alongside him through the murder trial— through it all. ‘Thick and thin’ she would tell him.

“She’s in the shower,” Cotton’s blood ran cold when he heard the sound of running water, “She’s got a nice little… voice. Let’s go in for a closer look. Such a kind girl caught up in your life— couldn’t just stay away from Maureen Prescott, huh? See where that got you. Speaking of which, let’s play a little game. Answer right, your little sister lives, answer wrong, she dies. Where’s Maureen’s daughter Sidney?” Cotton’s lip twitched in anger then confusion etched into his face.

Not before he yelled, “Who the fuck is this?,” did he anxiously look at the traffic in front of him.

“Someone who’d kill to know where Sidney Prescott is. One chance, Cotton. If you don’t spill she will. You’ve got connections, where is she—?”

“You listen to me, you fucking psycho, you lay a finger on her and I swear to God I’ll kill you.” Cotton gripped the steering wheel tightly which caused his knuckles to crack.

The devilish voice laughed then muttered, “Wrong answer.”

He yelled into the phone as the dial tone played back to him. Without a second thought he turned his steering wheel and slammed on the gas. Promptly hitting the car in front of him. He ignored the yelps of surprise from the other vehicles as he drove off the freeway.

Cotton would not let her die.

Scrunching the remaining water out of her hair, Courtney hummed when she was satisfied with the results. She then slid the shower door open to reveal the bathroom. Her head dropped to the right in brief confusion when she realized the door was now open. Furrowed brows soon relaxed as she chalked it up to her own lack of closing it. Goosebumps raised on her skin as her toes and soles of her feet met the marble floor. Plucking the fluffy green towel from the counter she dried her skin of the remaining droplets on her body.

Not taking any chances she called out into the hallway, “Hey, Cott! Are you there?” The lack of response was enough for her to throw the towel over her shoulder then proceed into the hallway.

Unknowingly leaving small footsteps of water in her place she made it to her bedroom. The sleepwear she had folded previously and placed on the bed still remained, unbothered. Black silk nightgown that he had gotten for her. The edges of her lips curved upward and she proceeded to slip the gown on.

With him on her mind she grabbed the photo frame that sat on her bedside table. Courtney with her toothy smile and him pushed into the side of her face; hidden by her wind blown hair. He claimed that being ‘behind the camera' was more his style. Hearing his voice echo through her head caused a flush to appear on her face. They met almost two years ago. He stumbled into her life— or rather she had stumbled into his.

Another after-party she wished she had not attended. After countless hugs or hand-handshakes with the unsolicited drugs within them it brought her to an exhausting state of mind. A few shots in brought on a fading sense of stability, Courtney knew it was time to head back home. Her dress was sequined pink with a tight brassiere. She felt like a fairy and with each step she thought that she would begin to fly.

With that thought the strappy pink heels she wore became more of a hassle than a fashion statement as she found herself toppling over a loose cord. Sturdy hands gripped her forearms as she placed her nude painted fingernails on their chest.

“Woah there,” she wondered if it was the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream or her appreciation of his chest, “You alright?” She decidedly left her palms there and looked up at her savior.

“Ye- yes, all good here.” She stuttered out the words nervously; brought on by their proximity.

She cursed as she looked between his green eyes. Another thing for her to appreciate— especially since it had been her favorite color.

“Well, that’s very kind of you to say.” He grinned and cocked his head to the side. Observing her as if he was surprised by the words.

Not as surprised as she had been. Her mouth hung agape with eyes mimicking their shock. She mumbled and found herself detaching from him.

He let her go with ease, but found her hand. She thought back to the countless other introductions and felt pained that this would follow the same way. The way he gripped her hand brought her back to life.

“Roman,” he brought his lips to her right ear, “Nice dress— might be my new favorite color.” His lips barely skimmed her ear as he pulled away. Her heart thumped and she watched him closely as his face distanced itself from hers.

He dropped her hand then parted from her. Courtney flushed and stared at his back until she lost him amongst the other party-goers.

She was hooked immediately.

The sound of a radio starting up alerted her so she quickly placed the frame down. Her arms felt heavy in anticipation with heart beginning to race. She stood and anxiously walked into the opening of her door.

I tried to love you,

I thought I could,

I tried to own you,

I thought I would,

I wanna peel the skin from your face,

Before the real you lays to waste-

“Cotton! You scared the shit out of me— turn it off, okay?!” She yelled into the hallway, but was met with nothing while the music continued.

Try to understand me, little girl,

My twisted passion to be your world,

Lost inside my sick head,

I live for you but I’m not alive-

Taking a step into the hallway she grew frustrated, “This is not funny, Cotton!,” finally over his sick joke she made her way towards the radio player.

Take my hands before I kill,

I still love you but I still burn-

Marching into his office she grew confused at the lack of her brother’s presence. The hair on her arms raised. She looked back into the hallway, and found no sign of life. Tightening her lips she resumed her task and stormed over to the radio. When she found the cord she harshly yanked it from the wall.

“Listen, if this is one of your sick ‘Stab’ pranks, just know that I’m officially over it!” She declared then yelped when she heard the sound of a door opening. “Who is it, who’s there?” Her body shook slightly while looking out into the hallway.

“Court? You all right? I’m home.” Her brother called out which made her sigh in relief and quickly make her way into the hallway.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” She wrapped her arms around herself then peered over the banister.

“You’ll never guess what just happened to me.” He responded.

“What are you talking about?” She murmured still not comfortable with what happened moments before.

Pushing herself closer to the barrier she tried to find him.

The masked figure raised its head to meet her gaze. Fear paralyzed her as they stared at one another. She forced her limbs backwards and with that the killer revealed a knife.

Screaming she whipped herself around and through the hallway. Heavy steps trailed behind her and as she made her turn back into Cotton��s office she slipped. The killer catches up and falls down catching her hair in their hands. Courtney screams and forces herself around and kicks them in the face- harshly forcing them back. Pushing herself up onto her feet, she makes it to the door. When she turns she sees the killer running straight for her. Another involuntary scream leaves her as she slams then locks the door behind her.

“Get the hell out of here! If you tr- try anything I’ll kill you, I swear!” Her voice staggered as she screamed at the door.

Her brother's laugh echoed through the door, “Come on Courtney. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s me. Open the door.”

“You asshole! What are you trying to do, Cotton? I’m scared, please stop.” She begged and backed up closer to the corner.

“I was only messing around. I’m sorry, come on, open the door, Court.”

“Messing around—”

“Open the fucking door Courtney!” Cotton screamed as a knife smashed through the door. Courtney screams and begins to look for something to protect herself.

Cotton’s heart raced. Now at the front of his apartment building the tires of his SUV came to a screeching halt. He threw open his door then slammed it close and started to run into the apartment.

“Courtney? Where are you?” He anxiously looked around, all the while hearing himself on a TV nearby.

We're gonna make them confront their victims face to face,

mano a mano,

right here on '100% Cotton'.

Cotton removes his jacket and throws it to the side. He glances at the fireplace and reaches over to pick up a fire poker. Now upstairs he makes his way into the hallway, and his shoulders drop when he sees the door with knife marks in it.

“Shit, shit, Court, talk to me! Courtney, if you're in there open the door.” Cotton rolls his shoulders then takes a few steps back. He rushes to the door and throws his shoulder into— breaking through it.

Courtney screamed and swung the golf club she found at his head. He was quick to move backward and away from her.

With his hand extended out in front of him, “Courtney, woah woah woah! It’s me!”

“Get the fuck back,” he attempts to come closer but she swings again, “Stop!” Cotton backs up and drops his hand.

“What are you doing?” Cotton harshly questions.

“What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing?” Courtney swings the golf club toward him again. They switched places— her in front of the open door and him cornered.

“Court, was somebody in the house?” Courtney shook and felt her eyes begin to water.

“Cotton, why are you trying to hurt me? Please just let me go.” She begged and backed away from him. Her plan was to make a break for the front door and get help. He was much bigger than her but she would not let that stop her.

“Give me the club, all right? Give me the club. Give me the club, please.” Cotton eyes her warily as he approaches her.

Courtney’s lip quivered as she tightened her grip on the weapon.

Cotton’s eyes widened as he looked behind her. She glanced around, but before she could react her body was thrusted towards the desk. Her forehead slammed into the edge which caused her vision to darken.

She vaguely heard the sounds of furniture falling and grunts of pain.

Courtney did not know how long it took for her to wake. Though when she did it was taped to a kitchen chair.

“What the fuck?” Was what she intended to speak but was muffled by the tape wrapped around her head and covering her mouth.

She thought she could smell blood in the air, and was reminded of the last time she went through this. Her chin was forcefully yanked upward and into the masked face of the killer.

Her screams were dulled by the duct tape. The attempts to break free were useless. Her skin felt raw as she pushed toward the tape. Black costume with a Ghost face mask looking back at her. When she tried to look for Cotton her chin was yanked back to their face.

She whimpered and tried to pull her face away. The gloved grip hardened which made her stop her attempts. Realizing she would be still the killer removed their hand, but instead brought it to cover her eyes.

“He just wouldn’t play the game—,” Courtney screamed, “Sidney Prescott is who I want. Do you know where she is?,” she mumbled into the tape which caused the killer to laugh dryly, “Come on, Court.” The use of her name made her whimper.

She shook her head which caused the killer to sigh. Courtney felt something slide against her neck then toward the strap of her dress. The weight of her strap disappeared- cut by the killer's knife she assumed.

The gloved hand dropped from her eyes. Now met with the side-cocked head of the killer she began to glower. The killer stood all the while spinning its knife in their hand.

She yelped into the tape as the knife was brought closer to her face— taunting her by tapping it on her forehead. They then dragged it down between her eyes and over her taped mouth. To her dismay a tear fell from her eye. The knife came to the damp skin. She whimpered when it cut into the skin, but it didn’t last long.

The killer secured the knife away then pulled a printed photo from their robe. Once again crouching to meet her gaze did they force the picture onto her taped chest. Gloved fingers pushed to keep the picture taped to her chest. In a rushed stance did the killer go behind Courtney- causing her to scream.

She thrashed to no avail and screamed when the gleam of the knife was wrapped around towards her face. In a quick slice her chest was ripped by the blade. Blood began to slip out of the wound and onto the picture. Once more she finds her vision blackening.

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[t-lostinworlds]

Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.

It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.

You two get it done right away in the right way.

You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.

But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.

"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.

On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.

"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—

"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."

Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.

And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.

With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.

"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.

"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.

Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.

He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.

"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.

With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.

Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.

"Come here and give me one last kiss."

"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"

You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.

"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.

"Places you two!" Jessica called out.

Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.

You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.

The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.

"Ready and action!"

You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.

"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.

"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.

"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.

Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.

Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.

"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.

Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.

Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.

"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.

The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.

Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.

"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.

"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."

Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.

"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.

Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.

"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."

"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.

"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.

Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.

"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.

"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.

"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.

But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.

"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.

"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.

It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.

But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.

At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."

All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.

Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.

You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.

You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."

Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.

Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.

"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.

Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.

You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.

Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.

"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."

"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.

You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.

"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."

"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.

"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"

Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.

"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"

"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.

"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.

"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."

"Aw, thanks bro—"

"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."

"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.

"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."

You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.

"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"

With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.

"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."

You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.

"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."

***

It was finally time to get back to the hotel.

You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.

The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.

"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.

A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.

Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.

"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.

"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him

"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.

"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.

Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:

"Just let me take care of you."

A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.

Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.

In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.

He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.

Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.

"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.

"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.

"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.

"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.

With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.

The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,

"Tom, what if—"

"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.

"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.

With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."

Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.

"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.

Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."

You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.

With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—

"Not going anywhere."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you liked it and tell me your thoughts <3

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega​​ @vinylmendes​​ @fallinfortom​​ @disneysamara​​ @avengersficwriter​ @musicalkeys​ @apatheticanvas67482​ ♛ Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @2018shawn​ @darlingspidey​ @namoreno​ @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl​ @keepingupwiththehollands​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ @unbelievableholland​ @kittenruby​ @sunkisseddreamer​ @worldoftom​ @quaksonhehe​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @clara-licht​ @dummiesshort​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​ @sonofabitchstyles​ @perspectiveparker​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @tombob2005​ @arivera-30​

just let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist hun! <3