#not to mention it doesn't seem like he's on good terms with the rest of the Explorers either- him butting heads with Spinel previously and-

[pomefioredove]

Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #floyd leech x reader #rollo flamme x reader #can't believe this is the first time I've written for rollo on this blog... bby I've missed u

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

More Pokémon Horizons Episode 25 spoilers under the cut!

As much as I laughed from how this played out like an unintentionally comedic moment---can I mention how much this actually does to separate Amethio from the rest of the Explorers; how he's actually honorable and respects Friede as a rival of sorts?

The rest of the Explorers tend to use underhanded tricks to get what they want (Spinel brainwashing Liko and attempting to wipe her memory, Onyx and Sango trying to overwhelm the others against direct orders whilst causing the destruction of everything else around them), but Amethio has been unique in how he's regarded as 'by the books' (by Friede) and constantly tries to be on equal footing with his opponent- even if it means putting himself at the disadvantage when he has more resources to utilize.

He could've very easily overwhelmed Friede by having both of his mons attack at once (given how Captain Pikachu hadn't arrived yet)---and yet he- doesn't. Which is just so interesting to me as he's meant to have a similar goal as the rest of the Explorers (which is to retrieve the pendant/Terapagos by any means necessary).

So in this case, was it really a matter of defeating Friede so that he could easily confront Liko afterwards,,, or,,,,, was he trying to prove himself somehow? 👀✨✨✨

#fluff binges !!! #adding my spoiler tag for the tags here as well delelelewhooooooooooooppppppppp------------------------------------------------------------ #AMETHIO MY BELOVED........................... #THERE'S SOMETHING ELSE THERE. SOMETHING ELSE HE'S TRYING TO ACHIEVE THROUGH HIS INSISTENCE ON BATTING FAIRLY #it's such an interesting detail to notice because he's actively Trying to make it fair for everyone involved #earlier in the season he Did snatch Sprigatito- though that was mainly to lure the RVTs to his location for a proper confrontation #he really didn't have any interest in taking Liko's mon for himself (and even judged Onia when she treated it as her own akjsdjkasds) #not to mention it doesn't seem like he's on good terms with the rest of the Explorers either- him butting heads with Spinel previously and- #--calling Onyx and Sango as “troublemakers” #ALSO ALSO NOTICE HOW HE DOESN'T GO FOR FRIEDE'S THROAT WHEN THEY BOTH DODGE OUT OF THE WAY WHEN THE TOWER FELL #ANDDDD AND THE WAY THEY B O T H MANAGED TO ESCAPE GALARIAN MOLTRES BACK IN THE MINES IN SPITE OF THEM BEING TOGETHER? #THERE'S.......... A MUTUAL RESPECT IN PLAY HERE....................... #LIKE HE'S SO OOGUGHGGHNGGHNG PICKING HIM UP AND RATTLING HIM WILDLY IN MY HANDS LIKE A FIDGET TOY #I WANT TO UNDERSTAND YOU MOREEEEEEE YOU'RE SO INTRIGUING AND ANGSTYYYYY WHAT ARE YOU HIDINGGGGGGGGG #ARE YOU JUST LONELY DO YOU WANT FRIENDS DO YOU WANT VALIDATION THE RTVS CAN GIVE THAT TO YOU YOU MUST OPEN YOUR HEART /J /J /LH #no but fr though I laughed harder at this moment than I probably should've #it's so funny how he just . does that so casually like “hold on let me switch” SKJDHFNSJDNFJKSND #amethio #explorer amethio #amethio pokemon #pokemon horizons #anipoke #pokeani

[lazyjellyfish300]

Mom and Dad Are Fighting On Valentine's Day 💌

Miguel O'Hara x Fem wife reader

Synopsis: same universe as Mom and Dad Are Fighting On Christmas. You and Miguel are married with three kids: Gabi(his), Marcus(yours), and Anthony(you two had him together). He falls back into his workaholic patterns and you two have a big fight that nearly ruins your big Valentine's Day plans. Word count 5.2k

A/N: My last piece for my Valentine's Day special! I just love this man so much lol. Enjoy! Here's the first one I posted for V Day (this fic is completely unrelated to this one)

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT AT THE END (P IN V, FINGERING, CREAMPIE, ORAL F RECEIVING BUT DOESN'T GO INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL, BREEDING,) FAMILY PLANNING, TALKS OF DEPRESSION, TALK OF ABUSE, ANGST, MARRIAGE TROUBLES, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, MAYBE ALLUDES TO POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION, MENTION OF TRADITIONAL GENDER ROLES, OC SIBLINGS TO GABI, OC OF YOUR (READER'S) MOTHER. The OCS HAVE PRETTY MUCH LITTLE TO NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, READER'S MOTHER HAS NONE WHATSOEVER. ANTHONY FAVORS MIGUEL MORE IN TERMS OF LOOKS, THIS IS MORE DISCUSSED IN THE CHRISTMAS FIC BEFORE THIS.

-----

It was February 1st and one of the first nights you and your husband actually went to bed at the same time in weeks.

"Let's make a baby this Valentine's Day..." Miguel whispered as his large hand snaked under your arm to cup your breast. Your eyes fluttered, your phone slipped onto the ground, the spicy fanfic you were reading temporarily forgotten. You rolled your hips forward at his touch and panted softly.

"What...?"

"Hmmm....? ¿Quieres un otro niño conmigo, mi amor? (You want another child with me, my love?) He started laying hungry kisses on your neck, his breathing becoming more heavy and hot against your ear, which made you bite your lip. "We can have someone watch the kids...I'll take the day after off so we can have all night and everything..."

"Honey... the baby would be born in November?"

"Mhmmm..." Miguel was too busy caressing your now erect nipples and moving a hand to your crotch to really focus on your conversation.

"They'd be a Scorpio."

Miguel pulls back with an amused look on his face

"Baby...be serious. That's what you're worried about?"

You shrug. "I mean..."

Miguel scoffed and grabbed your breasts again. "I don't care when they're born...just want another little one running around...has your cute nose and everything..." His lips graze upwards on your neck until they come to rest on your jaw. "¿Qué dices?" (What do you say) he murmurs against your skin.

Your mind rushes with all kinds of thoughts. Anthony was quickly approaching his third birthday. You and Miguel had discussed adding just one more O'Hara to the family multiple times. It seemed like good timing. You missed the tender joy and even the sleep deprivation that a little baby brought with them.

You and Miguel had occasional quarrels over dividing housework here and there, but when it came to caring for the kids he was such a hands on father (when he wasn't going through one of his workaholic phases), that you didn't mind the extra labor a newborn demanded.

When people (rudely) asked you if you were done having kids, you couldn't give a firm no. One more child seemed like the perfect way to complete the family you and him built together. You were ready.

You look up at your husband, that irritatingly sexy smirk on his face as he gazes back down at you.

"Buy me dinner first?" You smirk back.

Miguel lets out a hearty chuckle, "I can handle that...I am a gentleman after all. Wouldn't want my pretty little wife thinking I have any ulterior motives..."

He leans down and you release more giggles as he blazes another trail of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach.

"You're impossible, O'Hara..."

----

The next morning, you two start your usual routine. You throw on your signature leggings and hoodie since you have three kids to wrangle, along with the morning carpool.

Miguel is rolling up his sleeves on his sweater as he leans over to plant a kiss on Gabi's and Marcus's heads as they scarf down their Fruit Loops cereal. He has to chase down little Anthony for a minute, and Anthony squeals as Miguel plants a goodbye kiss on his small chubby cheeks that are smeared with banana puree.

"Bye, baby..." Miguel gives your booty what he thought was a discreet love squeeze along with a peck on the lips, much to Gabi's chagrin.

"Gross!"

Miguel grins and opens the door to the garage.

"Mmm- don't forget! Gabi has her book report presentation at 2 pm today!" You call after him.

Shit... Miguel remembers. That's going to be a tough one to squeeze in his already stuffed schedule. "Okay, I'll see what I can do!"

You groan silently to yourself. You knew him well enough to know there was a 99% chance he wasn't coming based on that response alone. You plaster on a fake smile and try to shrug off your worry for the kids' sake. "Alright munchkins, the magic school express is leaving for school, pronto!"

----

After dropping off Gabi, Marcus and two of the neighbors' kids at school, you drop Anthony off at your mother's for some quality time while you catch up on housework. Or at least some of the housework because you end up showering and taking a 3 hour nap. The demands of the past week finally caught up to you. You groggily shut off the alarm on your phone. The clock said noon.

You text your husband, "Are you going to make it to Gabi's presentation?"

No answer.

But, that was typical. Miguel could get quite busy at HQ and not respond for hours. Still, you kept your hopes up that this time he'd make an honest effort to be there to support Gabi.

After lunch, you go back to your mother's and visit for a bit, then you and little Anthony head over to the school for Gabi's presentation promptly at 2 pm.

Gabi breaks out into a smile when she sees you and her baby brother enter the classroom. "Sissyyy!" Anthony babbles, waving his chunky arm.

Gabi runs to the back of the class and picks up little Anthony to give him a squeeze hello, he giggles furiously, kicking his dangling feet as she spins him around. You give both kids a warm smile then take Anthony in your lap as Gabi walks to the front of the classroom.

She hesitates for a moment and her eyes dart from you and Anthony to the door, as though she was expecting someone else to walk through. You get a sinking feeling in your gut when you realize she's looking for her papa. Her face falls a little bit when the door remains closed and the class goes silent, waiting for her to begin. You look at Gabi and give her an encouraging nod, not letting any of the disappointment you're feeling make itself known on your face.

Gabi takes a deep breath and starts to give her book report presentation. You hug Anthony a little closer to your chest as you both sit and watch, silently vowing to "accidentally" forget to cook Miguel dinner tonight.

Unfortunately, that night you didn't even get the opportunity to bitch him out because he came home some time around 3 am the next morning only to have to roll out of bed 3 hours later to beat the morning rush hour.

All of the excitement and positive momentum you thought you and Miguel were building after his suggestion to spend Valentine's Day together starts to chip away, day after day. He comes home in the wee hours of the night, missing dinner, homework, and bedtime. The kids seem to notice. Marcus snaps at you as you struggle to help him with his science homework. "Daddy knows how to do this stuff! I want him to help me, not you!"

You try to act like that comment didn't sting and answer in a calm but shaky voice. "Daddy's at work. I'm doing my best to help you and I need you to speak to me in a kinder tone, please."

Marcus grunts in frustration, stomping upstairs and slamming his door.

And, to make things worse, he begins picking more fights with Gabi than usual. Doors get slammed and toys get thrown as early as 8 am when a dispute arises over who gets to pick which cartoon is playing on the TV.

In the evenings, you have to scream at the top of your lungs and separate them after they start kicking each other under the table while little Anthony wails because he hates what's being served for dinner. The night ends with everyone in tears and all three kids eventually sleeping in your bed because they're too upset to stay in their rooms.

Miguel winds up on the couch or doesn't even come home at all, leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach with a painful side of resentment.

On Valentine's Day, you wake up and look over. Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony are all in a pile lying against each other on Miguel's side of the bed. It's 5 am. You slide out of bed, taking care not to disrupt your sleeping babies.

You walk quietly downstairs, a storm brewing in your chest, a seething monologue you plan to unleash on your careless husband asleep on the couch again. You had his favorite bourbon, new cologne, his favorite snacks, and some new socks that you were going to set out for him to wake up to. He could forget about all of that now. He didn't even bother to get you anything, or even climb into bed with all of you at least when he got home.

You were preparing to hold his feet to the fire and ask where the hell he's been, if he's remembered he even has a family, and, if his sorry ass doesn't start coming home at a reasonable time or even issue a nearly two weeks overdue apology to Gabi for letting her down, that he can scrap your Valentine's Day plans, cancel the hotel, and you'll return all his gifts back to the store. Things haven't been this bad since Christmas when you nearly got divorced.

But, he's not there. The couch is bare. He spent another complete day and night at work. Didn't even come home so he could be there for you on fucking Valentine's Day. At this point, you just feel like crying. Frustration reached its boiling point and threatens to bubble over. You check your phone, the last text you sent to him was last night at 5 pm.

"Making dinner. Marcus is struggling with his science homework again and got upset with me. Will you please come home at a reasonable time tonight so you can talk to him about it? Are we still on for tomorrow and letting my mom watch the kids?"

The message was opened and read at 7:45 pm with no response. You walk outside onto your porch and call him, pacing back and forth restlessly as the phone rings.

----

Miguel walks through a portal back into his office at HQ, Felicia Hardy and Ben Reilly in tow. Felicia and Ben are bantering back and forth as Miguel notices an incoming call from you. Miguel's eyes are bloodshot, not having had a blink of sleep in nearly 18 hours

"Someone's in troubleee," Felicia teases. Miguel tries to brush off the comment as he nervously answers and utters a loud "FUCK!" when he realizes what today is.

Deep down, Miguel knew he had been getting worse lately. Diving head first into his work, so adamant on protecting the multiverse that he made himself blind to your needs and the needs of his children, seemingly a purposeful self-sabatoge. It was something you both unpacked early on in your relationship for you to eventually discover he had a form of depression.

A lot of it could be traced back to all those times where he was a boy who grew up way too fast as he shielded Gabriel from the obvious abuse his step dad inflicted on their family. He would take his responsibilities almost a little too seriously, always needing to be the solution to every problem, even if it meant setting himself on fire, and to the detriment of anyone close to him.

You two also battled over the age old argument the majority of married couples faced: the disproportionate division of visible and invisible labor. This was no doubt something that was ingrained in both of you growing up as a pattern that you two were fighting to try and break: the woman handles everything related to the home and kids, the permanent project manager of the family with little to no emotional assistance from the man. Meanwhile , the man works full time and makes such a healthy living that he can sustain her and multiple kids on it at once. The only domestic tasks he should be concerned with are the lawn and any random repairs around the house.

You were very supportive of his mental health of course, but it was times like these where you just needed him home, needed to feel like you didn't have to weather this storm on your own. A very distinct part of the vows you made to each other on your wedding day.

Sometimes you found yourself crying at night or when a love song came on, asking yourself if marriage was really this hard, or if love and the ideas of it that got planted in your head from an early age were just things of fiction. Something you clearly weren't meant to experience. Hell, none of the women on your side of the family did. Your grandma had a shitty marriage but stayed, your mom and dad divorced, and your aunt couldn't make any of her three marriages work.

You hear Miguel answer and you exhale with relief. "Did you get my text?..."

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, "Yeah...Happy Valentine's Day... Lo siento, mi alma..."

(I'm sorry, my soul)

You cross your arms, his greeting and weak apology completely going over your head. "So, where the hell have you been? What have you been up to? I've said maybe 10 words to you in the past nearly two weeks. I've been doing this all by myself..." Your voice thickens and you begin to cry at last, "If you're hurting again you need to tell me..."

Miguel starts to interrupt you but you bulldoze over him, not letting him put out the fire that was lit underneath you. "I need you home. The kids need you home. I am not celebrating Valentine's Day with you in a hotel room tonight if you do not come home at a reasonable time this afternoon to see the kids before we need to drop them off at my mom's."

At that point, Ben makes Felicia giggle loudly in the background. The tone is flirtatious and breathy. The sound is awfully incriminating as it comes through on the other line. Miguel shoots a frantic, pissed off look in their direction.

Your heart does a death drop from your chest to your stomach as you hear it. The deep seated insecurity that always hung in the very back of your mind that liked to make unwelcome appearances, usually at the worst of times in your marriage. An unpleasant symptom of having a husband who was exceedingly physically attractive to practically anyone who laid eyes on him.

The fear he would eventually tire of you and leave you high and dry for someone else. Someone prettier. Someone younger. Someone who wasn't bogged down by responsibilities. Someone who hadn't shown him the worst of who they could be. Someone whose personality was more contagious than yours. Someone more intelligent and successful. Someone who was everything you weren't.

"Who the hell is that...?" you ask through clenched teeth.

Miguel's hand comes up, covering nearly his entire face as he weakly tries to defend himself. "That was....Felicia..."

Felicia. Of fucking course. Here we go again...You hadn't worried about her since the last argument you two had over Christmas when Miguel foolishly decided to throw it in your face that she was more pleasant to be around as a mindless way to hurt you in that moment.

The tiniest seed of insecurity planted that would cause you to spiral with overthinking whenever her name was mentioned, even when you knew she really had a thing for Ben and Miguel put in work to reassure you of the fact that you were still the sole apple of his eye. Miguel had probably just reset whatever progress you two made since then ten steps backwards.

He frantically tries to save himself on the phone but you're already checking out as we speak. "But Ben's here too! Ben's here, too! Babe! We were on Earth-5129, we've been stuck on missions that take all day. Their Sinister Six has been causing all sorts of problems. I'm not alone with anyone, baby, I swear to God. I just got carried away with work-"

"Oh, oh you got carried away alright..." Your tears are hot and salty streaks on your cheeks. "The kids and I will be staying at my mom's. Have fun on your little mission."

"Baby don't hang up I swear to God-..."

You hang up and set your phone down on the ground, crouching down so your head is in your hands and you're squatting in a near fetal position, not moving much except your shoulders gently shaking, causing you to try and rock in a soothing motion as you sob uncontrollably.

You cry and cry. You cry for yourself. You cry at the fact that you feel like a single married mother. You cry because you're frustrated you're not good enough at math to help Marcus with his homework. You cry at the memory of Gabi's disappointed, sad face when she had to give her presentation without her favorite person there to watch. You cry about your body and how you haven't felt beautiful lately, that unkind, irrational thought that perhaps if you were prettier, then Miguel would pay more attention.

You cry about not having enough time in the day to do the things you want to do and how motherhood literally has no breaks to just let you breathe. You cry about Miguel and how this marriage at times feels harder than it should be, wondering what happened to the man you married and just wanting him back.

After several minutes, you just sit and stare at the slightly overcast morning, the cold slowly announcing its presence, your emotions and stress had rendered you insensitive to its chill for most of the time you were out there. You tug your fingers into the sleeves of your pajamas and waddle back inside, pausing at the main floor bathroom. You make sure there is no evidence of tears before you get your kids ready for another day, determined to at least make their Valentine's Day magical even if yours was already off to a shit start. Emotions can wait, motherhood doesn't stop.

----

Later that night, Gabi and Marcus are passed out in the guest bedroom at your mom's, sugar high worn off once again, and little Anthony is snoozing peacefully in your mom's lap. She quietly rocks him in the recliner in her living room, her nose buried in a book.

She hears Miguel enter quietly, and she looks up. Disapproval obvious in her expression as she bookmarks her spot.

You didn't tell her you and Miguel were fighting, but she knows her daughter well enough to know something was wrong, and he was the cause.

Miguel greets her in a hushed tone so as to not wake Anthony. "Thank you for watching the kids tonight..."

Your mom acknowledges with a curt nod of her head. Miguel sits down. Before he can speak, your mom interrupts. "She's at the hotel..." She pauses, letting Miguel absorb the information. "She wouldn't tell me the truth, but I know my daughter well enough to know she's hurt."

Miguel takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah... I messed up big time."

Your mom continues, "All the kids are asleep. If I were you, I'd go fix it..." She takes a deep breath of her own, Anthony stirs a little. "I love you like a son, Miguel. But, I'm gonna say this nicely: you work too much. One day, before you know it, these sweet kids are gonna be all grown up, and you and your wife won't even know what to talk about anymore because you never made your marriage a priority."

Miguel nods slowly, taking in her words.

"Don't become strangers in your marriage like I did." Your mom says, looking sincerely into Miguel's eyes. It clicks for Miguel at last, and he knows what he needs to do. He just prays that you'll even let him get close enough to let you hear him out.

Miguel gives your mom a warm smile of appreciation and a stroke to Anthony's hair before he ventures out into the February air, off to go win your heart back once again.

----

You're curled up in the king sized bed in the executive suite of one of the fanciest hotels nearby. You and Miguel stayed there the night before you eloped, and it was your first time staying there since. You would have cancelled the room altogether, but it was too late by the time Miguel messed up, so you figured you'd enjoy it, even if you had to do it alone, dammit. If you were going to cry, then at least you'd be doing it while wearing the hotel's fancy bathrobe on the top floor with chocolate covered strawberries and champagne.

You popped one in your mouth to try and distract from your tears that threatened to leak once again as you watched Letters to Juliet on the flat screen TV. You sniffed loudly, and there was a loud booming knock at the door.

You stayed right where you were, having a hunch it was your husband crawling back, biting another chocolate covered strawberry, this time chasing it with a longer sip of champagne.

The knocks get louder and you mutter a "shit" when you hear Miguel start calling your name, his fist relentless against the heavy oak door. You get up cautiously, creeping towards the knocking.

"Abre la puerta, cariño, por favor!!!" (Open the door, dear, please!) Miguel yells. "Stop doing this shit baby, I'M YOUR HUSBAND! TALK TO ME!"

The neighbors across the hall open up their door and start chastising him. Something about "keep it down people are trying to sleep", "this is the first night we've had away in MONTHS", "take your relationship problems outside", to which Miguel loudly hisses it's none of their goddamn business.

You open the door, yank your disheveled, tall ass husband into your room, and slam it in the face of the Karens. Problem solved. You huff and turn around, making your way back to your champagne throne, not saying a word.

Miguel makes a loud sigh, trying to settle from 100 back to 0. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry..." His brown locks are unkempt, a little bit of stubble peppers his chin. His crimson eyes are surrounded by little bloodshot lines. In his hands he has a slightly wilted bouquet of pink roses, one of the last bundles they had available at the grocery store, and in the other, a little pack of caramel Ghirdadellis being held by a tiny stuffed gray hippo.

You take the stuffed animal from Miguel with a neutral expression on your face. "He can stay," you wiggle the hippo in your hand. "But you can't. "

Miguel groans. "Baby, NOTHING happened. I swear on our children."

You raise an eyebrow at the bold statement. "On our children?"

Miguel sits on the edge of the bed, pulling at the hem of your bathrobe. "If I'm lying, let God Himself strike me down where I stand."

"You're sitting," you murmur, unable to resist. Miguel gives an exhausted gasp of laughter.

"You know what I mean..." He says, trying to steer the conversation back on target. "I would NEVER do that to you in a million years. I was an ass, I know. I've been taking too much time at work and I neglected you. I neglected the kids..." He sighs and leans into your chest. You silently wrap your hands around his head, pressing him into you.

Miguel closes his eyes, taking a deep smell of your scent. All of his stress seemingly being tugged out of his head with every moment he stays squished against your heart. He tries to explain, "Ben and Felicia were laughing, that's what you heard on the phone..."

You take a steady intake of breath. "Miguel..."

"Te lo prometo...." (I promise you) He says earnestly, looking up into your eyes from where he's still sitting on the edge of the bed. "Te lo prometo" (I promise you) he repeats for emphasis this time, his voice reducing to a whisper, crimson eyes wide as though his pupils could pull you in and make you see the truth.

"You don't need to explain yourself..." You say, bringing your hands to cup his face. His eyes fluttered closed and he leans into them. When he reopens them, a thin layer of tears is evident.

When Miguel cries, you can't help but cry also. You press your tongue against the back of your teeth, and go back to playing with his hair instead to hold them at bay. "How'd we get like this, baby?..."

That sentence utterly breaks his heart because he's all too aware of his role he's played in being a strain on your marriage by now. This was unlike you two. He's unable to speak but a million thoughts sprint through his head. Life happened. We stopped making each other the priority. Yes, the kids' needs would ultimately trump everything else while they were still very young, but when was it going to be your time again? Instead of going back to the way things were, you'd have to get to know each other again.

Meeting yourselves again as the new people you evolved into, reunited over those tender words you promised each other on wrinkled paper you stole from a printer in a cramped city office building nearly 5 years ago. Your lovely face bore a jittery smile underneath your department store veil, Miguel's expression tender as though he could power a city from the affection on his face alone.

Now, on this late Valentine's Day night , he beckons you to sit next to him, which you do. He lays you backwards, following you and propping himself on his elbow. The shift causes one tear to escape, creeping into your hair. You sniffle, and Miguel looks at you with concern. "Life got in the way again...it's not your fault. It's mine..." He admits shamefully.

You stare at the ceiling, more tears trickling into your hair before you look at Miguel. "Why'd you marry me?"

Miguel gives you a soft smile and answers in a hushed tone. "I decided one day that I didn't want to be without you." He pauses and his smile disappears momentarily, then creeps back up again. "Do you still wanna be without me right now?"

You shake your head. "No...I was mad. But that doesn't mean I really want you to go. I've just missed you, baby... *sigh*.....can we end the night together?"

Miguel's expression liquefies, "Course we can...and tomorrow too, right?" He scoops you even closer. We'll take our time, maybe get breakfast at that diner you love? Take you shopping?...I got a lot to make up for," he chuckles.

You hum, bringing your fingertips against his broad back. "Yes please." You let yourself drown in his hug for several moments, then you say, "We really need to stop fighting and making up on all the major holidays. Hallmark is going to catch wind of it and make a film adaptation, just watch."

Miguel beams, a light snicker from his chest vibrates against your body. "Haha...you're right, baby. Can't keep letting them get away with it..." His hand moves to grip your ass. "I'll wait til St. Patrick's Day to act up instead..."

"Babe. No."

"I'm kidding!"

"No, just, no," you shake your head, trying to wiggle out of his grasp but he holds you firmly down, both hands moving under your robe.

"You're right, my apologies, Mrs...." he croons.

"O'Hara. That's Mrs. O'Hara to you." You prod the tip of his nose.

"Mmm..."

Miguel kisses the sides of your neck, his lips still contain the tiniest bit of chill from the outside. You sigh into it, your sweet sounds of surrender tickling his ears, evolving into a wave of warmth that covers every inch of him, making him tremble for what's happening next.

"Mrs.... O'Hara..." At the sound of his name, he slides two fingers into your pussy. Your lips fall open at the intrusion, a whine bouncing off the walls.

"Shh...." Miguel soothes, his fingers start moving in a circular pattern.

"Fffuck...," your back arches, encouraging him to go deeper. You've reached the point where you're completely vulnerable. Falling apart to your husband's sweet thick fingers.

Miguel kisses the top of your breasts, still coaxing the walls of your pussy. "There she is..."

"I love you so much..." you whine, almost desperate.

His eyes are completely intoxicated by the utter desire leaking out of your body and into his hand. "I love you, sweetheart..." his voice barely above a whisper, as though any noise that escaped him threatened to rip you out of the haze of pleasure you both were currently drowning in.

You lift your chin, capturing his lips in yours. Soft and wet, they move seamlessly as they had nearly thousands of times before. A familiar song and dance you two engaged in, yet seemed to take you to a place that felt brand new each time you did.

"Make love to me..." your murmur buzzes softly against his lips, leaving his breath hanging hot and heavy.

Miguel answers by making his kisses a little harder. Lingering for a second longer, his tongue weaving a little deeper, leaving yours burning for more contact. A steady stream that turned into a faucet. Every bit of you yearns for him. This man you loved so much. And he yearns for the same in return. He'd happily give into you any time.

He praises you as you take his cock. Your eyes closing momentarily to accommodate his size. He traces your lips, letting the bottom one drag down just a little, leaving an opening for his thumb. You suck it greedily, the callouses of his thumb massaging against the ridges of your tongue. You moan as you taste his skin, earning a low grunt from him in return.

"Mi luz(My light).....so, so gorgeous..."

The corners of your lips curve into a smirk as you continue, but you release it when Miguel begins thrusting harder.

"Shit...." Your head presses back against the pillows and Miguel leans closer to you, his soft breaths fanning you, his fingers combing over your hairline as he holds you in place.

"Swear your pussy drives me insane no matter how many times we've fucked..." Miguel groans in a low voice.

You wind your thighs tighter around him, your body on the verge of overstimulation. "Cum in me ... remember? Wanna give you another baby..."

Miguel lets out a moan louder in volume than any of the previous ones. "¿En serio, amor?" (Seriously, love?)

"Please....."

Your bodies intertwined in a knot of passion as he fills you completely with his cum. You hold him tight, intimate moments like these that only the two people occupying the bed would remember. The raw, dirty memory of the night you hopefully conceived your last child with him.

He stays buried inside you, not ready to separate just yet. Letting the afterglow of the passion wash over you both for several more moments.

Soon after, you're enjoying the steam of the shower as you and Miguel take turns washing another, the smacks of your lips together echoing off the tile leading to a wet slap as your hand comes up to steady yourself against the wall as Miguel dives between your thighs once again.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. O'Hara..."

----

🥰🥺

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spotify #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #Spotify

[vashtijoy]

have you seen the commentary from the p5r artbook going around? the shuake part of my dash is losing it a bit at the implication that their wishes were mutual!!! that seems to be what some people are getting from the commentary at least… amy insights?

Hi! I have been through the artbook. It's great, isn't it? :D

The image above is called "One Ending", and the creator caption (by illustrator Akane Kabayashi) reads:

When I think about how Akechi's wish was to play chess after school with the protagonist, I almost want to call him out with "You liked him after all, didn't you!"

Look at that. We're told about Akechi's wish, and what it included. We're as good as told outright that he likes Joker—and this isn't the only time, there's also this:

—There are a whole lot of things we can imagine, based on how the protagonist was depicted as someone special to Akechi. Those are more or less the exact emotions represented during Akechi's confidant. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

"someone special" here is 特別な存在 tokubetsuna sonzai—literally "a special presence". It means a special person, and more than that; it describes someone you find compelling, someone you can't look away from, someone who becomes one of your most important people, the centre of your world. It's another term that is often romantic, but isn't necessarily romantic.

(In the same way, I think Kabayashi's suki jan! is more tongue-in-cheek than it is a cast-iron confirmation that Akechi was canonly in love with Joker. The language there is teasing, it's ambiguous, it's baity; Kabayashi is joking. This is a rank 6—as they say, if you know, you know. But it is of course ultimately up to all of you.)

There's another mention of this image, down in the creator interview:

Out of all the Maruki ending illustrations, it was Akechi's that stuck with me the most. It made such an impression to see them opening up as friends, having a fun, peaceful time together like high school students should. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

What really strikes me in all of this is the emphasis the creators put on the fact that this is Akechi's illustration, Akechi's wish. Because I've thought for a while that we know Akechi has a wish. You can see him struggling with his refusals to Maruki in the first week of January. And you can hear his wish spoken—when Maruki repeats it back to him, during the boss fight, on 2/3:

Maruki {F1 81}君たちとなら、君も過ちのない道を歩めるかも知れないじゃないか！ {F1 81}-kun-tachi to nara, kimi mo ayamachi no nai michi o ayumeru kamoshirenai ja nai ka! If you're with {F1 81}―kun and his friends, you could begin to atone for what you've done! Think about it! With [Amamiya]-kun and his friends beside you, you could choose a path with no mistakes as well!

So this wish has several parts. First, there's that kimi mo, "you also"; it's tempting to read this as Maruki also wanting his new world to erase his past mistakes. Second, there's the first part, "if you're with [Amamiya]-kun and his friends". Where to even start here?

Being with Joker and the others is a prerequisite for the second half of Akechi's wish. It doesn't just coexist, it enables the rest of it. Just like his words in the engine room, "I wonder why we couldn't have met a few years earlier, [Ren]..."

Remember, Akechi's whole arc is about his rejection of trust and friendship, and his insistence on doing everything himself. This is precisely what Futaba calls him out on—"you trusted no one", or "you played life in single-player mode". This is what he unlearns at the climax of the engine room, when he realises he isn't prepared to let the others die—and follows through to save them.

Akechi is nothing without others, and he knows it. Without their support, which he believes he has no right to, he has no hope of living a better life, even were he to be given the chance—and he knows that, too. He has learned, and he has grown—and yet he knows the things he needs and wants so badly are forever inaccessible.

And his wish is about all the Phantom Thieves, not just Joker. There are many tiny references to this end—not least the original Japanese rank 10 line for his confidant, where he sacrifices himself for all of you. Joker is his compelling presence, his someone special, but he's formed small bonds with the others too, God help him.

and then there's the crime thing

The localisation frames Akechi's wish in terms of atonement, but that's not what's on offer. You cannot, after all, atone for things you never did. We see Akechi's wish put into practice, in the Maruki ending, where he appears with his friends beside him, wholly innocent and with unstained hands. And we see it in the first week of January, after he has finally met Maruki and spoken to him:

Akechi: Ah, that reminds me—there was one more thing I wanted to tell you. Akechi: About the reality Maruki's put us in... Akechi: It seems that Okumura and Wakaba are both considered alive by all accounts. [Ren: They're not dead anymore? / What do you mean?] Akechi: They aren't mere illusions, or cognitive beings—they truly are alive and existing in this world. Akechi: In fact, their deaths seem to have never taken place at all in this reality. [Ren: What happened to Shido?] Akechi: Shido was the only one arrested on the crime of attempting to overthrow the government... Akechi: It seems the Phantom Thieves were causing a stir in this society as well, but there's no record of your arrest now. Akechi: Basically, in this reality, you and I haven't committed any crimes.

While Akechi still remembers his crimes, they never took place. They have been undone, and only his lingering memory—and Joker's, at this point—speaks to them. He objects to this on countless levels, he summons all the strength he has to refuse it, but don't make the mistake of thinking that means he doesn't want it. This is Akechi's wish in action.

People are often very certain that Akechi's resolve in the third semester is like iron—that he rejects Maruki's offers right away, is never tempted, never wavers. But that can't be true. We know he's afraid to die. We know about the bad end where you don't complete the Palace, where Akechi says nothing and stares at the floor, seemingly blaming himself internally while all the others blame themselves aloud, for being unable to say no to Maruki's temptations. We know how he responds to this assertion of Maruki's—Maruki, who has perfectly summed up what we know all the other PTs wanted, and who (even if Word of God hadn't just confirmed Akechi's wish) we have, honestly, no reason to doubt.

Because Akechi never refutes this wish that Maruki describes. He never says he doesn't want it. He just rejects it—like all the others, who so desperately want what Maruki could give them. Futaba's mother, Haru's father. Akechi's life, and his innocence. And the people who might have been his friends, if he could dare, one day, to ask.

Akechi is tested just like the others, and the price he pays for his defiance is perhaps the highest of all.

and finally

[The Maruki ending illustrations are] of Maruki's world, where everyone's wishes are granted and they seem happy. The scene shows their actualised wishes, which were never granted in the real world. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

We shouldn't forget the price Akechi pays for his impossible wish. Sure, the vision of himself being altered like Sumire clearly haunts him, and I'm sure it made the choice easier—but I don't think it made it that easy. Instead of taking the dream Maruki offered him, Akechi chose to face up to what he'd done, and who he'd become; at the very end, in the third semester and in the engine room, he always makes the right choice.

And that choice was taken away from him. Agency over his life and death, his own acts, and who he would even be—Joker and Maruki take it all away from him and make him a puppet, just like Shido.

Maruki's ending isn't pretty.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.0 (2024/03/29)—first published.

#asks #persona 5 #p5 meta #things i translate #japanese language #word of god #shuake #goro akechi #takuto maruki

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you.

this is def an experimental format!! i got this idea while reading the character letters. in the POV of an unknown interviewer (not reader). reader uses they/them.

🔗⚰️📰🔮❤️‍🩹💉🌪️✂️🍀🩰🔫🪡🤹🧲🦋🐍

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🔗 Ada - "Yes, that's my lover. I would say our relationship falls within the typical scope of that sort of thing. Of course, I believe we share something special, but everyone does when they're in love, don't they?" She covers all her bases in one decisive breath, leaving little room for me to comment.

⚰️ Aesop sits perfectly upright, fingers threaded at his knees. His eyes drift to the side and he seems to begin speaking mid-thought. "I had... cautioned myself not to upset their perception of me," he explains. "But they pried, and stayed, regardless of what they found... For that, I'm grateful."

📰 Alice has kept a sharp eye on me the entire time, but it's at this question that she drops the formalities. "I wasn't aware you would be prying into my personal affairs. Where did you learn that name?" Her frankness pins me in place. For some reason, I end up apologizing.

🔮 Eli can't help a sheepish smile from blooming across his face. "Well, truthfully... I don't use this term lightly, but they might be the love of my life." He has been consistently grounded with his responses, so I'm surprised to catch him flustered, however subtle it is. Personally, I'm touched.

❤️‍🩹 Emil considers for a moment. He doesn't meet me in the eye, instead pinning his gaze on nowhere in particular. A faint smile ghosts his lips. After a while, he answers, simply, "Safe."

💉 Emily's hands are folded neatly on her lap. At the mention of that name, her shoulders tense, but she otherwise maintains her composure. "Someone I trust." Her answer is vague and cautious, but acceptable. I'll try to uncover a deeper meaning behind that 'trust'.

🌪️ Ithaqua - "Mine." He is curt and to the point. Yours? I echo, hoping he'll elaborate. His head tilts to the side, and while I can't see the face behind his mask, a sense of dread suddenly overcomes me. I decide not to press further.

✂️ Jack stretches out his hand of blades, flexing each finger in front of him. I can't deny the cold sweat that drips down my spine just by being in his presence. "May I respond with a question of my own?" he says to me. "Suppose a butterfly loses its way, and winds up caught in a spider's web. Wouldn't you agree that the more it writhes and struggles, the more exhilarated the spider becomes?" I don't have the courage to hear out the rest of this analogy.

🍀 Lucky - "I've always been known as a pretty lucky guy, but the luckiest day of my life was when I met them! I remember it was the—" He drags me down a long-winded story about their life together. I get the idea. Eventually I'm forced to cut him off.

🩰 Margaretha twirls a curl of hair, a meek blush dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever been in love before? You're never prepared for the magic of it all. I feel a new rush with them everyday. I know, realistically, all good things come to an end, so I tried to remind myself to expect the worst, but they've proven over and over that... I'll never feel safer than in their arms." After rambling for some time, a look of surprise flashes across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, but I've just never met someone who feels so much like true love before."

🔫 Martha doesn't miss a beat. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." I look down to double-check the name written in her file. Her watchful gaze follows my line of sight. Are you sure? I try. "Must've been some confusion somewhere," she insists. The next day, I realize all my files on her and (Y/N) have gone missing.

🪡 Matthias - "Wh-What?" he starts, but keeps going before I can repeat the question. "Oh, uh, an ally, I guess." Well, I gathered that much. When I press for more details, his head sinks low, fingers grasping at the armrest. "I don't know what they saw in me. Was it out of pity?"

🤹 Mike's eyes light up and he blinds me with a contagious smile. "(Y/N)'s a sneaky one, and I mean it—they've got me under the trickiest spell of all. Guess what happens every time I think about them?" Egged on by his grin, I take the bait. You get lovesick? I guess. Suddenly, he tosses a handful of butterfly glitter in my face. "I get butterflies!" Very funny, I sigh, exasperated with these carnies. Why did he have that on hand in the first place?

🧲 Norton leans back in his chair, scowling. "What's that got to do with anything?" He snaps a couple times in my face, urging me to "stay on topic." It's hard to say if this question struck a nerve, as he's been uncooperative for most of this interview, but my suspicions point me to prod further. After all, it'd have been much easier if he just said he didn't know them.

🦋 Vera's face contorts into a leery, hostile glower. "Why do you ask that?" Before I can say anything to mitigate the rising tension, she catches herself, and her expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry. That's... someone quite dear to me, so your question took me by surprise."

🐍 Yidhra's follower goes pale, clearly unnerved. "She won't answer that," she tells me through shallow breaths. "Th-This isn't my place to say, but I'd advise you not to involve yourself with that person." As if on cue, I get a sensation I can only describe as a hand slowly wrapping around my neck. It disappears when I move to scratch it. Must've been my imagination.

Part 2

#again this is super experimental but U__U im interested in doing the rest of the cast maybe #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #norton campbell x reader #ithaqua x reader #eli clark x reader #matthias czernin x reader #mike morton x reader #vera nair x reader #martha behamfil x reader #margaretha zelle x reader #aesop carl x reader #yidhra x reader #jack x reader #emily dyer x reader #lucky guy x reader #emil x reader #alice deross x reader #ada mesmer x reader

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!! 🥳❤️‍🔥 You guys really warmed my heart with all the excitement for this story. I'm very happy to bring you the first chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Warnings: Tense situations, brief mention of claustrophobia, and a good old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1: "Class and Style"

Come on, come on, come on!

The toe of your heeled foot tapped on the floor as you, once again, waited for the elevator to make its slow climb back up to the 22nd floor.

In your hand was a tray carrying two steaming lattes: one small, plain hazelnut, and the other a venti caramel frappe with all the sugary bells and whistles. Complete with extra whipped cream, because your boss was a goddamn child.

I shouldn’t even be getting his coffee, you thought sourly. This is his assistant’s job!

And if this elevator didn’t climb any faster, having to stop at Starbucks during your meager lunch break for your boss’s morning fix would make you late for a very important sales meeting.

“Let’s go, Betsy. Come on,” you muttered. “You can do it.”

Yes, you’d named the contraption that usually managed to carry you all the way to your correct floor. When she wasn’t broken down for maintenance. 

The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.

But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.

You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.

Shit!

You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…

The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.

“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.

Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.

But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…

“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You shouted for help.

You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.

You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.

Maybe no one could hear you.

“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.

You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.

But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Fire Department.”

“Oh, God. Yes!”

With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.

“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.

“How soon is soon?” you asked.

“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”

Jesus Christ.

You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.

Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.

Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?

Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.

“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”

You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.

“Hello?!”

“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”

“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”

“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”

 You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.

Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.

He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.

“There you are,” he greeted.

You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.

“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

You gave it to him as you took the harness.

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”

You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”

It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.

“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.

“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”

You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.

Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air. 

“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”

“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).

“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.

His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.

“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”

He leaned in further so you could reach him.

…And damn it, you believed him.

Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.

“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.

You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.

“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.

“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.

Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!

You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”

He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.

“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.

But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.

You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.

Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…

You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.

A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.

“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.

You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”

“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”

Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.

You were livid.

But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.

“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.

“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”

You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.

Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.

“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse. 

You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.

He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.

Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.

He could admit, you had both class and style.

“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.

Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.

“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”

You shot him an amused look.

“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”

George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”

Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.

Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.

“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”

George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.

“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”

George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.

“Just something caught in my throat.”

“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.

You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.

“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.

“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”

A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.

“A bar fight would make me more productive?”

George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”

You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.

For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.

“You should get that, huh?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.

“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.

“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.

Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.

As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman. 

“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.

“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”

You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.

“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”

And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.

Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.

Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.

You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.

It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…

“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”

You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.

“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”

“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”

You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”

Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)

“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”

You became more contemplative then.

Bake something, huh?

Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…

And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.

You smiled.

“Okay. I think we have a plan.” However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”

“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”

“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.

“His name was Dean.”

AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?

Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.

And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.

Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂

...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)

Anywho...

Next Time:

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Due to Tumblr's dumb 50-only tag rule, I'm tagging the rest of you in a reblog. 😘

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Class and Style #Smoke Eater #Part 1 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester AU #firefighter AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

[star-ocean-peahen]

The more you think about Jason Grace's life, the more fucked up it gets.

Like, the whole "joined Camp Jupiter as a three year old" thing. We already know Camp Jupiter is fucked up because it places heavy importance on a child army, despite having plenty of demigod adults at hand, but they straight up recruited a three year old into the military. He showed up and got promptly stuck in a barrack for the rest of his childhood.

Like, why?? Why on earth would they do that instead of giving him to someone in New Rome to raise and inducting him into the legion at a respectable twelve??

And who raised him anyway?? A rotating cast of nineteen-year-old demigods?? His bunkmates in the Fifth?? If he was a young teenager I could see that, but he arrived when he was three, was he even potty-trained??? Did he just grow up being educated by bored teenagers and ghosts, watching as demigods arrived and served and retired, being told that he had to be the greatest of them all?? Did he have any other children to grow up with?? Did the legion even consider him different than the other recruits, or did he have to shovel unicorn dung when he forgot his phonics and live with the constant threat of perhaps being sewn into a bag of weasels??

I find it odd that Jason, as a demigod who grew up in a demigod's world, doesn't have his unique perspective explored more. I find it especially odd that the difference between his childhood and everyone else's is ignored. However difficult and varied everyone else's backgrounds are, they've at least attended a school. They had parents, and family, and a home, at least at one point. They had mortal toys and dwellings and communities that weren't merged inextricably with the myths. They knew where they came from. Do you think Jason, with his powerful, kingly father and impending destiny, ever felt like he didn't know who his family was?

I also find it strange that he doesn't seem to have a very wide network of friends from Camp Jupiter? He has Reyna, who he trusts and works with and depends on. He lists Hazel and Frank among his friends, but they look up to him as a role model. He mentions Bobby and Dakota familiarly, but never again. He's familiar and on good terms with basically everyone—but the only person he seems to consider as a close friend is Reyna. And that wouldn't be odd if he hadn't grown up at Camp Jupiter. He doesn't seem to have any constant companion—anyone he considers his family until he meets Leo.

Maybe he and Leo bonded so well because they both knew what it was like to grow up transiently. To have any constant in your life, and know that the day you would move on or they would move on was fast approaching. Maybe the reason he looked at Camp Half-Blood and admired how united and familial they seemed, and wished Camp Jupiter could be similar, was that he could see in them the family he wished he had.

Honestly, I feel like meeting Thalia should have left him in a lot more turmoil than it did. He grew up with no family but a god for a father, and here's a person who wanted him. Someone who always wanted him because he was Jason, and not the demigod son of Zeus. Maybe even someone to whom he mattered more than his destiny.

I really, really wish we'd gotten to see more of the contrasts between him and Percy. He is explicitly the Romans' version of the hero Percy is, except he's the hero first, and the person second. Jason did everything right! He did everything perfectly, and Percy still got where he did without being trained for it his entire childhood. He's got such a better reason to resent him than "bad vibes". They could have been foils for each other hhhhhhhrngh.

Just. This lonely, idolized, child soldier's life hurts me.

#and honestly i want to know all about his life before HOO #all the quests he went on! the friends he made! what shaped him into the person he is today! #his identity problems should run deeper than “i like the greek way but i was born a roman” and “i find it difficult to process the kind of #person my mother was"! #riordanverse #heroes of olympus #jason grace #heros of olympus

[bosbas]

Chapter 6: in a world of boys he's a gentleman

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, Eloise being the best, Colin finally having brain cell(s), but then very quickly losing aforementioned brain cells

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

May 30, 1816 – One week has passed since the unfortunate revelation of Lord Barlow’s true nature, and Lady Y/N Montclair has yet to make an appearance at a ball. Could it be that the Duke’s betrayal has left her too disillusioned? Perhaps the eligible gentlemen of London have failed to meet her exacting standards. One can't help but wonder if Lady Y/N be present at tonight’s ball, where the ton's most eligible bachelors will undoubtedly be vying for her attention now that she is decidedly searching for a new suitor. Who among them shall be lucky enough to capture her attention? This author does not know, but hopefully, this evening reveals more of Lady Montclair’s intentions.

Colin was grinding his teeth, his right eye twitching slightly as he glared at Eloise, with whom he had been arguing for the better part of the last hour. 

“It’s not like I haven’t tried to be agreeable! She’s just impossible,” he ground out.

Colin was about finished with having to face criticism from his sister when you were the one who had ignored his attempt at a truce.

“It certainly doesn’t help that you rile her up every single time you see her. She’s trying to find a husband, mind you!” Eloise shouted back. 

She had grown quite close to you in the past weeks, and she knew the kind of pressure you were under tonight. It was your first ball after finding out the Duke had sneaked away from the Bridgerton ball with Miss Barrington, and your full focus would be on finding a new suitor. Eloise generally preferred to stay out of your neverending conflict with Colin, but she knew he would never understand what you were going through. The very least she could do was ensure that he acted decently toward you, though it seemed like even that would prove a challenge. 

“Exactly! I was the one who wanted to warn her about Lord Barlow’s betrayal, and now she thinks I’m the one who gave him access to our courtyard,” snapped Colin. 

He couldn’t believe Eloise. How could she not see that you were one of the most infuriating, unpleasant, and insolent people in the ton? Why was she so intent on defending you? Colin was irritated beyond belief, and he wanted nothing more than to never speak with you again after the horse races. You had promptly ignored him after accusing him of orchestrating Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington’s escapade, and he spent the rest of the afternoon angrily stealing glances at you as you chatted pleasantly with his sister. 

And to learn that you still wanted to find a husband? You could become a spinster, for all he cared. And he didn’t. He didn’t care. About you or about Lord Barlow, or frankly, about anything that had transpired since the Bridgerton ball. All he knew was that tonight, he would be forced to watch you bat your eyelashes and giggle softly as you talked to countless men when all he got from you were angry stares and sarcastic laughs. 

“She’s the one who doesn’t want to be on good terms with me,” he added stubbornly, crossing his arms. 

Eloise let out an exasperated groan and rolled her eyes. “Colin! Can you not find it in yourself to set aside your dislike for her and understand that she is an unmarried lady who just lost a titled man she was practically guaranteed to marry? She is in a precarious situation, not to mention feeling heartbroken and betrayed.”

In truth, Colin thought, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t even begin to. He had never faced that kind of pressure before, certainly not about something as trivial as marriage, and suddenly he felt guilty for wanting to spend the entire evening tormenting you so he could avoid watching you amass suitors. 

Sensing that her words had struck a nerve, Eloise took advantage of her brother’s waning resolve. “You are Colin Bridgerton, Mayfair’s sweetheart! I don’t understand why you can’t act that way with her.”

“She doesn’t want that! She doesn’t want me!” Colin yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut in frustration. 

But Eloise didn’t let up. “I’ll wager she wants that tonight. You don’t need to kiss the ground she walks on. Just be civil and refrain from any ungentlemanly conduct. It’s her first ball since the Lord Barlow scandal, and she doesn’t need to look bad in front of a crowd of eligible bachelors.”

“I don’t ever do it on purpose!” he defended. 

“You could’ve fooled me,” scoffed Eloise. Then, softening her tone, she added, “Just tonight. Please.”

“Fine,” he relented. 

If it was so important to Eloise, he would do it. He supposed he would want someone to do that to Eloise if she was ever in your same position. But he was already dreading the night. He had never particularly enjoyed balls, and he knew tonight would be especially dreadful. Usually, your arguments provided prime entertainment, and if he wasn’t allowed to fight with you tonight, he would just have to endure the monotony of the ballroom without any respite. 

---

You drew in a sharp breath as you entered the ballroom, looking around at the crowd nervously. Charlotte placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and led you toward the back of the room. Had she chosen to go to the furthest place from the entrance simply to torture you? You were nervous enough as it was; you didn’t need the added anxiety of having everyone’s eyes on you as you walked through the crowd. 

You had opted for an elegant white gown tonight. Well, your mother had suggested it and you had inevitably agreed to wear it. 

“It’s meant to look like a wedding dress!” she had exclaimed earlier. “It shows you’re still in the marriage mart despite everything that’s happened, and you’ll have gentlemen queuing up to dance with you.”

Whatever the reasoning behind the gown, you had to admit that it was beautiful. It accentuated your figure, and you could already feel plenty of keen eyes on you and more than a few furtive whispers. Though you couldn’t make out exactly what people were saying, you were sure you heard your name mentioned several times. However, you smiled gracefully at everyone anyway, wanting to avoid being seen as a complete laughingstock after losing Arthur. The Duke, you corrected yourself. He was no longer Arthur to you.

“Y/N,” you heard Eloise’s excited voice beside you.

You turned to see her smiling face and squeezed Charlotte’s hand to let her know she could go on without you. 

“Hello, El,” you greeted, smiling wide. 

“The balls have been torture without you! I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she gushed, taking your hand and leading you to a less crowded part of the ballroom. 

You relaxed slightly. At least one person here didn’t hate you. But perhaps she was the only one. As you kept speaking with Eloise, you realized that not a single bachelor had come to ask you for a dance. Usually, you had to reject quite a few gentlemen within the first few minutes of being at a ball, but your dance card remained empty tonight. 

Swallowing nervously, you looked around the room and assessed the gravity of your situation. Plenty of people were staring at you, but no one had moved toward you. Were they waiting for someone else to walk up to you? Did they not want to be the first to dance with you? Or did this mean that Lord Barlow’s actions had well and truly ruined you? Feeling the familiar beginnings of tears forming in your eyes, you quickly started to panic. What would your parents say? 

You were trying to focus on Eloise’s words, but all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat, and you were surprised people around you couldn’t hear it, too. Your stomach flipped uncomfortably as you realized that you might have truly fallen out of favor with the ton. The thought made you feel sick. This wasn’t how you wanted the season to go. How you needed it to go. 

Just as you were ready to bolt outside in search of fresh air, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your stomach clenched, and for a fleeting moment, you hoped it was Colin Bridgerton. As much as you weren’t looking forward to the inevitable antagonism you would face from him, and as much as you knew that he wasn’t interested in anything from you other than an argument, the thought of engaging with someone of the opposite gender provided a fleeting sense of relief. Anything to momentarily divert your thoughts from the Duke's betrayal and the disheartening realization of your diminished standing in society. Although knowing Colin, he would probably bring up the subject just to spite you. 

However, as you turned around, you came face to face with your brother. A tiny rush of disappointment coursed through you, and you crinkled your face in confusion. It was a disconcerting realization, indeed, to find yourself yearning for the company of Colin Bridgerton, the very individual you despised most in the ton.

Leaning down close to you, Louis asked lowly, “Ça va?” (Are you alright?).

“Louis,” you rolled your eyes and nodded, trying to convince him­–and yourself–that you were fine. “Ça va” (I’m alright). 

“Excuse me just a moment,” spoke Eloise as she looked between you and your brother. She squeezed your hand and turned around, leaving you with Louis.

You cringed, internally hearing your parents scolding you for speaking French around her. But Louis, unphased by Eloise’s exit, spoke again. “Non, j’suis serieux. On peut y aller,” he insisted (No, I’m serious. We can leave). 

It was nice of him to check up on you. But it only left you feeling worse, a sobering reminder that your situation was dire enough that your brother was actually being sweet to you.

As much as you would have liked to, you knew you couldn’t leave the ball. It would only make it worse to flee now. Your parents had already allowed you a weeklong break from social events, and they would be most displeased to find out that you were giving up so soon after your re-entry into society.

So, you steeled yourself, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Leave the ball? For me or for you?” you asked Louis, poking him teasingly.

He relaxed upon hearing your light tone, letting out a breath as he smiled down at you. Your parents had asked him to be especially careful with you tonight, and he was left with sickening worry. You were his little sister, and as much as you had your differences, he still thought himself in charge, at least partially, of your wellbeing. 

The worst part was that he knew exactly the kind of man Andrew Barlow was, and he was beside himself with guilt that he had even let the man near you. But you seemed to be getting through it, he noted, relieved. 

Colin was rooted to the spot across the ballroom, staring at you as you engaged in easy conversation with your brother. How you could be so disagreeable toward him, and completely pleasant with everyone else was absolutely beyond him. 

But what really caught his attention tonight was your attire. You were wearing a white gown, and he briefly wondered if that was what your wedding dress would have looked like. He couldn’t help it; you looked positively stunning, and he was angry because he knew if he even attempted to talk to you, you would most likely bite his head off. 

Colin jumped as he felt a tap on his shoulder, slightly embarrassed at having been discovered staring at you. He turned around to face his mother and Eloise smiling far too innocently for his liking.

“Colin, go dance with Y/N, please.”

“Can’t Benedict do it?” Colin pleaded. He would do anything not to have to speak with you right this moment. It was far better to look at you from a distance, where he could pretend you didn’t completely despise him. 

“He’s dancing with Penelope Featherington at the moment, so no. Colin, it’s one dance!” Violet responded, exasperated.

“It’s not like she won’t have anyone else asking her,” grumbled Colin unhappily. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen anyone ask you for a dance tonight. 

“Colin,” Eloise pleaded. “If they see you dancing with her, they’ll be more inclined to speak with her.”

Remembering his conversation with his sister from earlier, Colin accepted defeat, mumbling a low “just this once.”

He found himself growing increasingly nervous as he made his way over to you, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. What had gotten into him? This was merely a dance like any other. He’d done it many times before, and he could do it with you. 

He cleared his throat as he reached your side, drawing you out of your conversation with Louis. 

“Not you, too,” you sighed upon seeing him. “I’ve had enough of a difficult time today without your input.”

Colin was momentarily unable to speak, though he quickly recovered. At this point, he didn’t know why kept being so surprised that you thought so lowly of him. 

He was not like the rest of the cruel members of the ton, he thought defiantly. And he would show you just how unlike them he was. This was the real Colin Bridgerton, not the insecure, combative version of him that seemed to slip out whenever you were near.

“A dance, Lady Montclair. I came to ask for a dance,” he said patiently, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t act like you’ve got a full dance card,” he rolled his eyes. Alright, maybe he couldn’t completely shake his hostile demeanor.

"Mr. Bridgerton, that is-” 

“Please.” 

“Why?” came your indignant response. 

“We can say we’re both doing it for Eloise if that will make you feel better,” he said, eyebrows raised. 

Unsure, you turned to look at Louis beside you, who gave you an unimpressed look and gently nudged you in Colin’s direction. 

“Fine,” you huffed.

He let out a breath and reached for your dance card. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, Colin became hyperaware of his surroundings. Every sensation was heightened, and it was almost too much for him to hold your hand as he led you toward the dance floor. He had never had this much physical contact with you, bar the times you had not-so-accidentally stepped on his foot, and he was struggling to maintain his composure.

Your hand felt so delicate in his, and he was actively resisting the urge to interlock your fingers with his. Where had that come from? Why was it that he could never get a grip when he was around you?

Colin was forced back to the present moment as you reached the dance floor, and he carefully set one hand on your waist and used the other to hold your hand, getting into position before the music started playing. 

His stomach was in about a thousand knots, and he awkwardly shifted his hand placement, unsure about whether he was making too much physical contact with you. With the way you looked tonight, Colin would have been happy to keep his hands on you all night, but he was sure you did not share the sentiment, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently make you uncomfortable. If he was going to make you upset, he would much rather have done it on purpose and off the dance floor. But that’s not what Eloise has asked of him, so he settled for gingerly holding your waist, his fingers carefully touching the smooth fabric of your dress.

Much to his chagrin, Colin stumbled slightly as the music started in an attempt to begin dancing with you. This was not at all how the most charming member of the ton was supposed to act, he scolded himself, cringing. Perhaps it was a good thing you had never agreed to dance with him before this, and that he never got the chance to properly pursue you as a suitor. If merely a turn about the dance floor with you had him feeling so out of sorts, he couldn’t even imagine what kissing you must have felt like. 

Except now he was imagining what kissing you would feel like. His gaze suddenly fixated on your lips, and he wondered why he had never noticed how inviting they looked. It would be so easy to simply lean down, ever so slightly, and touch his lips to yours. Perhaps it would cause a scandal, given that you were in the middle of a ball, but he rather thought it would be worth it. Just a few- 

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Bridgerton” your sharp voice cut through his musings. 

Colin blinked, brought back to the present moment in an instant. It appeared that, in his rather improper daydream, his hold on your waist had tightened considerably. Irritation bubbled up inside of him as he softened his grip. It seemed that nothing had changed between the two of you, after all. His attempts at playing nice had been, as per usual, futile.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the concept of dancing, Lady Montclair, but it necessitates at least some level of physical contact,” he snapped, glaring but still unable to look away from your lips. 

Unfortunately, his words were punctuated by another stumble as he fought to stay upright and keep moving to the music, and he had to hold onto you to avoid toppling over. 

“What is the matter with you?” you hissed. “Did you never learn how to dance?” 

Colin looked down at you, grimacing and expecting to find the furious glare on your face he so often received. But your eyes were elsewhere. They were skittishly looking around the room, and your mouth was settling into a deeper and deeper frown. 

He noticed you anxiously chewing on your lip, your hand slightly shaky in his, though you were doing well to hide it. He felt like an idiot. Of course you were uneasy. It was your first dance trying to find a new suitor, and he was making you look like a fool in the middle of the dance floor. Colin felt his own anxiety melt away, replaced by a strange protectiveness he wasn’t sure he was familiar with.

“Just look at me,” he whispered as he twirled you.

You were too anxious to do anything but follow his instructions, and your eyes shifted to him instantly. He looked concerned, and you wondered whether it was concern for you or because he had almost fallen face-first in the middle of the dance floor. Either way, you were grateful you had something to focus on that wasn’t the constant obvious stares you were getting from everyone around you.

But, as Colin twirled you once again, you made eye contact with a man you had danced with on a few occasions. Before you could smile politely, he turned away to whisper something to the person beside him, and your face fell. As you returned to face Colin, you couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see who would be the next person to prove that you were ruined.

You felt a squeeze at your waist, and your eyes came back to Colin’s.

“They don’t matter. Pretend it’s just me and you,” he said softly, reeling you in effortlessly. “Well, perhaps your sister as well, just in case you attempt to murder me.”

You couldn’t help it, you let out a soft giggle and bit your lip to keep from bursting into laughter. And though you were still surrounded by people surely itching to see you stumble and fall, you felt the rest of the ballroom fading away. As long as you kept looking at Colin, and he kept looking at you, there was nothing that could distract you. 

“I haven’t been in England that long, but I’m fairly certain murder is illegal here,” you quipped, smiling warmly at Colin for what was probably the first time.

“I’m fairly certain it’s illegal in every place I’ve been to, but I’m not so sure that would stop you,” he said back, a positively rakish smile on his face. But you were far too distracted by his mention of his travels to notice.

“You’ve traveled? Eloise hasn’t mentioned much,” you said curiously. 

“I’ve mostly traveled by myself,” he explained, now completely composed, previous stress forgotten, and finding himself enjoying your company. “My family doesn’t have the same penchant for adventure as me, so I usually set off on my own.”

You hummed thoughtfully. This, you hadn’t expected. Now you knew that you and Colin shared a love for travel, and it was a very unpleasant feeling, indeed. You had spent so long trying to distance yourself from him, and it was slightly disconcerting to know that the two of you had something in common. Especially something so embedded in who you were.

“Where was the last place you went to?”

“Greece,” he answered, smiling down at you. “I came back just before the season started. My mother was quite upset with me when she saw my tan.”

You laughed, perfectly picturing Violet’s hand over her chest as she saw her son after spending weeks in the sun. “You’re mad! If I had your kind of freedom, I certainly would not have stayed in England for as long as you have. Why haven’t you left since?”

“I- I’m not sure,” Colin answered. Why had he stayed so long? Usually, he liked to travel during the summer months, but he had stayed put so far and had no upcoming travel plans. “I suppose I am enjoying the season this year.” Was he really, though?

But you had already moved on to your next question. “The language is quite challenging, no? Did you learn at all? How long were you in Greece?”

Colin could have kissed you then and there. His family rarely showed interest in his travels, seldom responding to his letters, and once back in the ton, no one else bothered to inquire about his time abroad. Thus, he found himself pleasantly surprised by your curiosity, even if it was you—of all people—who displayed it.

As your conversation unfolded, Colin realized he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The effortless banter, combined with the tingling sensation that coursed through him whenever your hand grazed his neck, made him feel as though he were soaring high above the ballroom floor.

What if you had said yes that night at the Danbury ball? What if you had accepted his invitation to dance? Would it have felt as remarkable, as natural as this moment? Or was the allure of having you in his arms heightened simply because you had already rejected him?

Colin supposed he might have fallen for you that very night at the Danbury ball, had the circumstances been different. He could have seen himself, in a fit of romantic fervor, asking for your hand in marriage mere days afterward. Perhaps, then, it was lucky that you seemed to have an instant disdain for him. It likely spared him from acting the fool. Though truth be told, he often found himself behaving quite foolishly in your presence regardless.

As the dance ended, Colin found himself yearning to continue speaking with you. He grabbed your hand in his, feeling much more composed this time, and led you away from the dance floor. But he barely had time to turn back around to face you and continue your conversation before a trio of suitors came up and asked you to dance. Before he knew it, you were being swept away once more, this time on the arm of someone else. 

Colin congratulated himself on a job well done as he made his way back to where Eloise stood, deftly declining a gentleman's offer to dance. It was a triumph, he thought, that Colin had gone more than five minutes without arguing with you, and you had even laughed at something he said! It felt far better than whatever hostile rapport the two of you usually had.

“Thank you,” Eloise smiled gratefully at her brother. “Now, was that so difficult?” she added in a teasing tone. 

“I will have you know that yes, it was,” answered Colin stubbornly, but he knew he was lying even before the words came out of his mouth. Gliding across the dance floor with you in his arms had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Even now, as you twirled gracefully in the arms of another, Colin found himself not seething with jealousy as he might have expected, but rather in a state of awe. There was something enchanting about the sight of you, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Then, unexpectedly, your eyes met his over the shoulder of your current dance partner, and you bestowed upon him a heart-stopping smile, silently mouthing a 'thank you'. Colin had to feign a cough to cover up the giggle he had just let out. A giggle? From Colin Bridgerton, certified rake? What on Earth were you doing to him?

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (get added here): @marvelspogue @5sosmakesmelaugh5 @maddiebaddie1 @livingthatprovinciallife @willieoo @jessica-1120 @dreadity @h0eforwadewilson @ziarah @wordsgodeep @mrs-c-bridgerton @dianxiaxiexie @like-gabriel-and-castiel @snapeeballsack @sosasi521-blog @saturnssunflower @indecisive-empanada @invisible-dreamers-world @angerpearl @ssexsellls @smugrogerina @cherrysxuya @theonekaysstuff @idkwhatimdoing6 @ella33 @tiger1357890 @mswwvaleska @bozoqt @unadulteratedwolfcrown @anthonylockwoodandco111 @beamuont @adxrekyun @stevenwithav01 @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @patty2191 @expensiveinnocentgurl @erysione @hockeybabestars @inkwriter122 @nighttimemoonlover @chamomiletea-beforebed @sydneygal3107 @alexendria-rose @watersevn @funalpaca @babypink224221 @littlecoffeeadict @agoldenwoe

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #enemies to lovers #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton x enemy!reader #bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #lost in translation #lost in translation: writing

[sunny44]

What about us?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x ex!Reader

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, sadness, breakup, co-parenting and maybe more

Summary: Where Lewis hasn't been himself lately.

Next Chapter

Lewis and I met when I was working in the media department at Mercedes, I wouldn't say we fell in love at first, but he was definitely the guy I loved most in my life.

But unfortunately not everything we love stays in our lives forever.

We dated for 3 years and then when 2021 came, he was so devastated that the title was taken away from him that our relationship didn’t last.

He was so out of himself that u didn’t recognized him anymore, I seem like the man I love was taken away from me when he lost that day.

So that when we decided to go in separated ways.

But 3 months after i found out that u was pregnant with our daughter and we had to get our path together again. He said to me the day I told him about my pregnancy that I saved him for making the stupidest mistake of his life because he was about to retire from formula 1.

The internet already new that we weren’t together anymore but they just discovered my pregnancy when he posted about it.

We obviously will have a connection for the rest of our lives and I am extremely happy that we manage to be in good terms or co-parenting would have been harder.

I would be lying if I said it was easy because it wasn’t, the fact that we are separated makes Harley's schedule and routine harder than would be if we were together.

Today is Harley’s 3th birthday and I’m was going crazy with everything, she wanted a formula 1 themed party and it was all thanks to her father who got her addicted to the sport.

So here I was running around my apartment to decorate everything while she was with Sebastian and his wife.

Kika is here with Pierre and the other boys helping me with the party.

Lately he was kind of absent, he obviously came to see Harley but when I tried to talk to him, Lewis answered as little as possible and my messages he didn't even answer.

I had been trying to get him to help me with her birthday but now I was worried that he wouldn't come.

I hope he is only busy now in the afternoon because I will kill him if he doesn't show up.

We live in Monaco so some of the drivers came since they are all passionate about Harley.

This includes George, Pierre, Sebastian, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, Max and Lando.

Max and Lewis were not biggest fans of each other, far from it, but Benjamin his son was best friends with Harley so we met occasionally. And above all they treated each other with respect so we had an acceptable relationship for the sake of our children.

And Lewis hated that Harley adored Uncle Max.

The party had been going on for two hours and nothing came of him, I didn't know whether to be worried or angry.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"I don't know my love, he should be here soon." She agrees a little discouraged but runs to where Ben and Max were.

"Anthony do you know where Lewis is?" I asked his father who was talking to my parents.

"I don't know darling, he said he would be a little late but he would come." I sighed in frustration. "I'll try to call him."

"Thank you."

He left to try to call his son and I went off to try to concentrate on distracting Harley with play.

…

He appeared in the middle of the party and I sighed with relief when I saw him coming through the door with Angela with him, Harley ran up to her father and I was happy to see her smile.

"How nice of you to come." I hugged Angela and she smiled.

"You've done well with the decorations." She said and I thanked her. "Can I talk to you? I want to take advantage of the fact that he's distracted by her."

I looked at the two of them and Harley was talking non-stop and he was listening attentively.

"Sure." We went into the kitchen where no one was around. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure, I'm a bit worried about him."

"What happened?"

"I arrived at his apartment today and everything was a mess and he was asleep on the sofa." I was surprised because he rarely slept during the day and his apartment was always spotless. "I tried to talk to him but you know how he is, Lewis doesn't open up easily but he ended up saying that he wasn't happy and that he missed you both a lot."

"But we're always here."

"I think he misses a family." I sighed because I understood his feeling. "You know that he loves you both more than anything in the world and I remember when you were together he was planning to marry you, have children and have you live in a more secluded house so that you wouldn't be swallowed up by the media but from one moment to the next his plan became just a dream."

"I understand."

"And the only thing that's kept him going over the last few years is that little girl and the fact that you're her mother because that's what's kept you in his life. But he hasn't been the same for a while."

"I've noticed that he's been acting strange lately, he doesn't talk to me directly and avoids me whenever he can."

"Because he knows that you know him like the back of your hand and that you would know what was wrong with him." She takes my hand. "I'm not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty or anything, but I wanted to ask you to talk to him and try to help him in any way you can."

"All right, I'll talk to him after the party."

...

I said goodbye to the last few people and the only ones that were still around was Max, Ben and Lewis

"Buddy it's about time we go home." He says trying to talk the boy off the trampoline.

"Not yet Daddy, wait a little longer." He says short of breath from jumping around.

"If you don't mind I can take him to your apartment later."

"All right, thanks." He said goodbye and went home.

They kept jumping on the trampoline while Lewis was inside grabbing the trash.

After 10 minutes Bem said he was tired and i asked Lewis to watch Harley while I take him to his father and when I came back I could hear them in her room.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy." She says, already lying on her bed.

"I missed you too baby bear." She smiles tiredly and closes her eyes. He kisses her forehead and stays there for a few more minutes until he sees that she's asleep.

"Hey." He smiles as soon as he sees me outside her room. "I'm sorry I couldn't help, I got caught up with some work stuff."

He was lying but I knew it was juts for me not to worry about him.

"It's okay, I sorted it out." He smiled and went back into the living room. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe because I know you better than you think." He sighs. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but I want you to know that I care about you."

"It's just that everything's been a bit too much lately."

"What do you mean?"

"The constant pressure at work, the media, the fact that I'm not there for you two every day. Everything." He turns to me. "I just don't know how much I can take anymore."

"Lewis..."

"I miss you, and I miss us, I miss Harley and this feeling that I'm good at what I do has been haunting me."

"But you are good."

"Apparently not so much because I can't even stand on the podium." I sighed. "I don't expect you to understand but I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"What do you want to do then?" He looks at me. "You know that Harley and I don't care if you're a driver or not, we care about you too much to worry about whether you're still in Formula 1 or not."

"It's just that I've lived this for so long that I just wish I could be with you every day without worrying about having to catch a flight to the other side of the world."

"I understand and I'll support you in whatever you decide.

"Thank you." I sat down on the sofa and nudged him to sit next to me, which he did, resting his head on my shoulder. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"I know, I love you too."

"But I love you in a way that..."

"I know, and I love you the same way." He looks at me. "I understood what you meant from the start."

"And what does that mean for us?"

"I don't know but we don't need to find out today, we have plenty of time." He smiles and we lie down on the sofa.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @lewishamilton, @susiewolf, @cherlesleclerc and others 293629

@yourusername I still can believe my baby is turning 3 years old today.

I’m so happy that I’m your mama and that I’m able to watch you grow and turn into this beautiful little girl.

I can’t imagine my life without you and I’m grateful for having you in my life.

Thank you @lewishamilton for making me a mama and for giving me the best gift anyone could ever give me.

Happy birthday sweet girl, mama loves you so much 🩵.

Comments have been disabled

Guys I have so many ideias for another chapters of Lewis being Harleys dad so if you guys want to read the next chapters let me know so I’ll tag you guys.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #f1 instagram au #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton art #lewis hamilton fanart #lewis hamilton edit #lewis hamilton wallpaper #lewis hamilton icons #lewis hamilton headers #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au #lewis hamilton aesthetic #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton drabble #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton lockscreen #lewis hamilton masterlist #lewis hamilton blurb #lh44 #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes amg petronas

[yoichew]

───── embraced by longing, but also love.

cw. itoshi rin x reader. fluff. angsty if you squint. no gender or pronouns for reader are mentioned. intentional lowercase. the itoshi brothers are unfortunately not in good terms here either. not proofread, we ball. 530 wordcount.

february, the month of love, was it? though it doesn't feel like it for the rin itoshi. love is hard, love is complicated, and he has that drilled into his brain, ever since his last interaction with his brother. family, friends, whoever, whatever, you can't make them stay, they never stay. how could he love, how could he trust, when the very person rin once looked up to barely spares him a glance? and if even they did, it'd be a glare— one look of disgust.

the window is currently open, allowing the cold air to caress rin's face gently, and he sighs contentedly. he should continue his repetitive routine to start his day— stretching, yoga, exercising... letting his heart weeps with rage. from an outsider's perspective, it'd be obvious his morning schedule was boring, he is quite aloof. the man literally lives and breathes soccer, dedicating his every waking moment to be better. people or things that won't help him improve are nothing.

he exhales deeply once more, calming himself, till a knock on the door kicks him out of his thoughts. he mutters under his breath, great. it's early in the morning. someone just had to ruin— he pauses when he opens the door. something seems to change, there's a much fresher air— it's warm, nothing like the one outside. it's you.

"good morning, rin!" you smile, so tenderly, it makes his heartache even more— in a pleasant way. "well, my morning isn't good, since you're banging on my door, it's—" "lukewarm? mediocre?" you cut him off, joking. how can you be so bright so early? the sun is barely up— he mentally scowls, yet he has to stop himself from smiling at your behavior. it's not long before you squeeze yourself into his apartment without even asking. not that he minds though, he never does when it comes to you. "you know you can't stay for long. i have to go out before it gets late." he mutters, sitting beside you— as you make yourself comfortable on the couch. "i'll make you stay here, with me—" "no." "i'll come with you outside!" "no." "why not?" "just no." you sigh, chuckling slightly at the bickering— you know you'd never be able to insist him to do anything you plead. though your laughter gets drowned by a sudden gasp you emit, as rin pushes you onto your back, now having you resting on the arm of the couch. as he lies his head on your stomach, you can hear how his breathing becomes tranquil. "so you do want to stay, don't you?" "shut it," he mumbles, as he now buries his face onto your shirt, he adds something else, it's muffled— but you still manage to catch it. "you make life bearable, really. i don't think i could continue living without you." his words make you smile, and you pray he doesn't hear how fast he makes your heart beat, gently running your fingers across his hair. and this makes the boy think that maybe this february isn't as indifferent as the ones that have passed, and maybe the intricate ways of love is worth it, just this once, just for you.

#rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #yoichewrites #bllk

[thisismeracing]

Mick+ betrayal + angst. Hurt me queen.

Betrayal | MS47

⸺ the one where Mick doesn't know what to do when love is over, and he ends up hurting Yn even more. Or when it took him only two weeks to go out and date the other girl. ✓ mentions of cheating and break up.

⁕ one word, a thousand stories blurb night (CLOSED) ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

What do you do when love is over?

That's a question that not everyone will have an answer to, and even if they do, there is no guarantee it will be the right one. The one that prevents heartbreak, tears stains, and screaming matches.

Mick tried to end things on good terms. And though he knew love was not over for her, he was already in love with someone else, so he decided that lying was a good idea. Mick told Yn that he wanted to break up because he needed to focus on his new seat, to give his undying attention to getting better and better and not going through the rough path he went to previously. That was the most absurd thing Yn ever heard Mick say, and she had heard him say that horses could fly one very drunk day.

When Yn pointed out that she never questioned his timing or asked for more attention than he could give, she reminded him that during his two years in Haas, she was by his side. When she cried, asking him how could love stop him from reaching his biggest goals. When she whimpered that love would actually push you towards your dreams, and support you, Mick could only shake his head and repeat that he was sorry. Which he was, in some way.

He never thought he would fall out of love with her, never thought that he would live a day where her laugh didn't bring him the most joy, or that watching her doing mundane things wouldn't be as interesting as before, but it happened.

And that's how Yn found herself at his doorstep two weeks after their breakup to get some of the things she wasn't able to on the same fateful heartbroken week of her existence.

She knocked on the door, the weird feeling creeping into her body. It was strange to wait by the entrance as if she were a stranger, and as if that was not her house a couple weeks ago.

"Coming!" She heard his cheerful voice exclaim before the lock turned and the door opened. The smile Mick had on his face vanished the second their eyes met, and they had been together long enough for Yn to recognize the guilty look on his face, just seconds before the feminine frame showed up behind him.

She was wearing one of Mick's shirts just like Yn used to. She looked happy. Comfortable. She looked at home. As if they'd been together for more than two weeks. As if their story was older than that.

Yn gulped, her throat closing and eyes watering, but she kept her instance, "I came to take the rest of my stuff..."

"Y-yeah, of course," Mick took a step back, allowing her to enter the house that had a completely new smell. "Mhmm- this is...this is Debby, my- uh- my girlfriend. Debby this is-"

"Spare me, Mick," Yn interrupted. "She knows who I am, and it seems like I'm the only one between us who did not know about her before."

"What do you mean?" he asked, brows furrowing, and body turning toward her, ready for confirmation. But oh Yn was so tired.

She just turned her back to the couple and ascended the stairs. The bed they used to share and everything else seemed the same as the day she left, except there was Debby everywhere. Each small detail that made it Yn's and Mick's little fort was off.

"She was just a friend. You know I wouldn't cheat-" he came up to the room, looming by the door while Yn gathered the last of her clothes from the closet and sorted her things from the new feminine things in his bathroom.

"Ain't it funny how I brought it up and you told me I was paranoid?" She reminded the day Debby and Mick started following each other and they started to message non-stop. Yn trusted him, but for the first time something seemed different, and when she tried to communicate Mick brushed it off.

When the blonde opened his mouth to retort, Yn cut him off, "Guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor, Schumacher. And I hope she breaks your heart the way you broke mine. I hope you broke each other's heart."

Mick took a step back as if her words were a fist swinging on his face, making him lose his balance. It was the first time he saw Yn that hurt, the first time her eyes had so many tears and so much loathing.

Yn threw her things inside the bag without caring to arrange it, just as Debby reached the room. Granted, the girl seemed a bit sad about the whole situation, but it did not wipe out how sad and hurtful it was for Yn.

"When you're sleeping in the bed I made with him, don't you forget about the way he betrayed me, because that was exactly what it was: betrayal. And he'll do the same with you, you can be sure of that," Yn smiled painfully and zipped the bag. "I wish you two a very sad life."

Hours after Yn left Mick was still thinking where does the love go? Does it turn into hate? Does it disappear? Did he make the right choice? Was he a traitor?

And for the first time, his house did not feel like his own. It felt like the home he once shared with Yn, except now it was broken.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Yup I wrote it listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo how'd you guess? lol Don't forget to reblog and comment *mwah* luv y'all!

#one word a thousand stories blurb night #op: blurbs #ms47 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher angst #mick schumacher imagine #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 imagine #millie writes #requests #anon

[bubblegumfanfictions]

Perfect to Me |Astarion x Fem!Plus-sized! Reader|

Fandom- Baldurs Gate 3

Ship- Astarion/Fem!Plus-sized! Reader

Warning(s)- fatphobia, negative thoughts about weight, mentions of Cazador, Swearing

Summary- Reader is upset after a rough day in Baldurs Gate, but Astarion proves that she doesn't need to be.

Word Count- 1,700

A/N- Sorry if this isn't perfect, it has been a while. But merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! (I also changed the name of the fic)

After a long and perilous journey through the Shadow Cursed Lands, The Underdark, and the Mountain Pass to gain allies you finally made your way to Baldurs Gate. The bustling streets and lively atmosphere was almost alien to you after so much time surrounded by nature.

The faces of your companions tell you all you need to know about how they feel at present. Disgust, Excitement, and Fear. You felt for Astarion, it must be terrifying returning to your old hunting grounds after so long, seeing the families of people he had condemned, but that wasn’t who he was now. You felt a fleeting sense of pride that your friend had promised the Gur he would help take down Cazador and find out what happened to their children– Whether they were alive or not is a whole different story.

Karlach on the other hand looked positively elated at being here. Her excitement was certainly infectious, You pause your thoughts and look over at the disgust on Lae’zel’s face, Well maybe not totally infectious. Although you did take note of a glint in Lae’zel’s eyes, she was interested but hid it well.

But even with Karlach’s excitement, you were nervous as all hells. You knew from experience that Baldurs Gate wasn’t a fan of people with your particular build (Well, unless you work in brothels or Burlesque shows but that is a different story.) Knowing what you know about Baldurs Gate you had prepared yourself before you left to expect some comments, looks and even some shoves.

You thought you had managed to keep your anxieties under control and to yourself but that wasn’t the case. Unbeknownst to you, while you were hyperanalysing everything out of nervousness, Astarion was keeping an eye on you. He’d never seen you so nervous- That might not even be the right word, terrified seemed to be the better term.

He didn’t know why you were so scared of everything. He had seen you take down an Orthon just so he could have the information that Raphael promised him. You didn’t have to do that but you did. When he asked you why you simply smiled and said “Because it was important to you.” So he didn’t understand your fears at all. Are you scared of big crowds? Of the idea that someone could jump you? No, thats not it, you’d look more alert than anything, not dazed.

After a few hours of walking around Astarion finally spotted what it was that was scaring you so much. He noticed the glares and whispers being sent in your direction. He was happy that you weren’t an elf because you wouldn't have liked the things he was hearing. He was physically restraining himself from ripping out these peoples throat. You were beautiful. Why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't you see that?

“Isn't she ashamed of coming out here?” Just breathe, Astarion. You'll be no good to the group in prison.

“She's much too big to be in with that lot.” Astarion kept his rage to himself, but he was sure the rest of his group noticed. After all you were connected by those wriggling parasites.

Eventually you all made your way to The Elfsong Tavern when the Emperor decided to reminisce about his time working with Duke Stalemane. Astarion didn't care though, not after noticing how vulnerable you looked, how upset and withdrawn you were.

He wondered if maybe you could hear some of the comments. Or if you were so used to the treatment that you knew what they were going to say.

Karlach barrels into the Tavern with all the grace of… well- Karlach. Finally getting to sleep in a proper bed for the night. Everyone was excited for it. After the trials they had all been through they deserved some much needed rest, even just for the day.

Karlach decided to go down into the Tavern to spend her night eating and drinking, Lae'zel went to the courtyard to practice. The group had discovered a temple with a link to Mystra and naturally relayed this to Gale so that's where he probably is. As for the others? You had no idea.

You took it upon yourself to kick your shoes off and practically face planted one of the beds in the room you rented, barely taking any notice of Astarion's eyes watching your every move.

The energy it took you to not burst out into tears in the streets had taken its toll on you, you were just ready to sleep.

Astarion moved over to you cautiously, for once he was lost for words. He didn't know what to say to you, should he acknowledge the elephant in the room or ignore it?

“Astarion? Are you okay?” You lift your heavy head to look at the handsome Pale Elf that was watching you. His eyes dance with uncertainty. He seemed deep in thought. “Astarion?” You say his name a second time and manage to catch his attention.

He shook himself from his thoughts “Oh, yes, Darling? What were you saying?” He thought his recovery was smooth but his discomfort still showed on his face.

You sit up and pat the spot next to you. Astarion smiled absentmindedly, even burdened by the thoughts of horrible people you were still thinking of others first.

Astarion sits next to you, “I'm fine, but are you. Don't think I didnt notice the way people were looking at you.” He paused, not knowing if he should let on that he heard what they were saying. “Or how they were… talking about you.”

You stayed silent, looking down at your hands. Like Astarion earlier you didn't know what to say. “You noticed that?”

He looked baffled, almost offended that you thought he didn't. “Of course I did! Why wouldn't I? This is you we are talking about Darling, it's so hard for me to not notice you.” He places his hand on top of yours.

The coolness from his hand is a stark contrast to the warmth of his words to you. “Tell me, why do you allow a few rotten apples to treat you so poorly.” He uses his other hand to brush some hair from your face that had fallen when your head lowered with sadness.

“Because its true. I'm nothing special, no one will ever love me the way I want them too. I'll be alone… forever.”

Astarion's heart shattered, he knew what it was like to feel so vulnerable, so self-conscious. He hated that your life in Baldurs Gate made you feel the same.

“Oh, Darling. I wish I could show you just how wrong you are. These people? This group that you brought together, they adore you, I adore you.”

“But why? I feel hideous.” Tears well up in the corner of your eyes, prompting Astarion to lift you chin with one hand and wipe your tears with the other.

“You are far from hideous my gorgeous gorgeous girl, I think you are beautiful, a walking piece of art. You do not deserve to be treated the way you are just because you don't fit in with their callous beauty standards.” The mixture of Astarion's kind words, the nasty glares, and your exhaustion caused you to break down, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Without missing a beat Astarion wrapped his arms around you in a clumsy hug. He could feel your shoulders shake as the tears (sadly) soaked his new doublet.

“You think I'm beautiful?” You sniffled, pulling your head away from his chest but maintaining contact. He may not be physically warm but his actions and words warmed you through.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? I'm not blind, Sweetheart.” A soft smile painted on his lips. Astarion could tell that his words weren't really getting through to you, he knew that it would take a long time for you to finally feel good about yourself, but he can damn well try his best.

“But-” you attempted to say before Astarion shushed you, a finger gently pressed to your lips.

“No buts. I have been around for a long time, I have bedded more men and women than I can count. But you are by far the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. You are so incredibly and unapologetically you and I would do anything in my power for you to see yourself the way I do.”

“But I'm not thin like other people, how can you say I'm beautiful when I look like this? ” He moved his finger down to your chin so he could tilt your head up.

“Because you are. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, you're the best person for me. I don't want to imagine a life with anyone other than you in it. I adore you darling. I love you and I want you to be happy and I would love for it to be with me.”

Astarion could see your expression change to a more hopeful one. “You love me?”

“I do.” He responds, his eyes darting down to your lips and back to your own again. “Can I kiss you?” The question slipped from his mouth before he could think. You nod your head, still shocked by the sudden confession.

He slowly closed the gap between your lips, when they finally touched Astarion could sense all of your worries melt away. His free hand squeezing the thickness of your thigh as you shared a loving kiss. Astarions fangs brushing against your lips and occasionally nipping them as the kiss deepened.

“Fuck yes! Finally!” You both turned your heads, seeing Karlach stood in the doorway watching as the two of you kissed.

“Man Gale is going to be PISSED. He owes me 60 gold.” She senses the awkwardness she had just caused with her entrance and sheepishly backed away “Don't let me stop you, I was just leaving.”

She slams the door behind her but you could hear her yelling that she was going to be a rich woman and that she knew she had an eye for romance.

The two of you just laughed. This was perfect.

#fanfiction #beginner writer #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #astarion x tav #astarion x plussized! reader #astarion x mc #astarion/reader #astarion/plussized!reader #astarion/you #astarion/tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic

[pet-pet-peet]

For the 100 follower event can i request the pocky game hcs like the dorm leaders but with the vice dorm leaders this time? If thats okay

👉👈

I’m very down, vice dorm leader requests = bat daddy requests Story: When visiting you in your world, you introduce him to pocky and say you have to play the pocky game since it’s pocky day! * This is female reader, but I generally don’t use many gendered terms in my writing..just know that I’ll opt more for feminine ones if I add any (aka, probably good for anyone, but the occasional gendered term will be female) Tw: lots of kissing and intimacy, Lilia's is a bit spicy as always, ORTHO IS INVOLVED BUT HIS HAS NONE OF THE PREVIOUS THINGS MENTIONED HIS IS WHOLESOME AND PLATONIC AND THERE IS NO PHYSICAL TOUCH INVOLVED

Pairing(s): Trey, Ruggie, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Ortho (platonic I promise), Lilia x female reader playing the pocky game (separate)

𝕿𝖗𝖊𝖞

He’s heard of something like pocky before, but he’s never tried making some

Probably asks if you want to make some with him so you two can try it out and see how it goes; ends up being pretty fun!

After making sure they tasted okay, you told him about the pocky game and it had him curious, he asks you to tell him more

After your explanation, he smiles kindly and asks if you want to play it

You both bite your respective ends and muffle a “three..two..one!” Thus, the race begins

As you almost reached the halfway mark, Trey took a big bite and beat you to it, looking at you with a mischievous gaze

Your pouting only made him feel more accomplished, and he quickly agreed to a rematch

You put a piece of pocky between you both and continue the rematch

This time he got as close as he could before pulling back suddenly and laughing a bit, saying you won

Every turn after is a mixed bag of reactions from him, but he definitely keeps you on your toes

𝕽𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖎𝖊

This little shit- don't expect anything fair..

He's honestly not too interested in the idea of a pocky game, he doesn't think you should play with food

That said, he did get kind of curious when you explained it to him

He would agree to only one round, but he wouldn't do anymore (for free)

You put the pocky between you both and both of you bite down on your respective ends

Then no one moves- you both just stare at each other while holding pocky between

You decide you'll go for the kill, but figure out you actually can't move

Ruggie laughs at your puzzled expression

He uses his unique magic to just make you give him the stick of pocky and he eats it quickly before you could do anything

Pecks your lips before getting up and leaving with the rest of the pocky

𝕵𝖆𝖉𝖊

You ask if he's ever had pocky, to which he says he's heard of it but never had it

You then make a terrible mistake by asking it he wants to try it by playing the pocky game

You have his curiosity, so he asks you to explain the roles; he listens intently with a calm smile

He requests that you demonstrate what you're meant to do, his smile grew as if he was talking about his beloved mushrooms

You go ahead and set the game up between you two

You start taking slow bites towards the center, but notice that Jade's not moving at all

He stayed like that for a bit longer, just watching you chew closer and closer

At some point, he puts his head on your chin and gently pull you closer, giving you a short kiss

He smiles innocently when you pull away, saying he thought it was an interesting game and that you two should play more

Sits silently like a menace as he "innocently" watches you stumble over yourself

𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑

He doesn't usually have much time for games, or himself..or you for that matter-

But anytime he can be around you, he wants to make sure you're satisfied

Kind of concerning, between worrying about Kalim's need and worrying about your needs he doesn't seem to have much time for himself

So you decided that this would be a good way for him to let loose a little

You both sat under a tree, his head laying on your lap as you both shared a box of pocky

You asked him to just hold one in his mouth, so he did while looking at you with curiosity

He lowkey got flustered when you leaned closer and ate at the pocky, he almost choked on it, but he kept in that position

You made it to his lips and kissed him sweetly, he returned the gesture but was a bit confused on your approach with it

You told him he should have more time to just be, and not have to worry about satisfying people

He was slightly embarrassed about being called out, but he let you take care of him a bit more afterwards

𝕽𝖔𝖔𝕶

He was on board as soon as you mentioned that there was a game

No hesitation, he put a pocky in his mouth without even hearing the rules

When you asked if he wanted to know them, he shook his head and stared at you expectantly

He watched as you started to eat the pocky, but he didn't move

When you were about to touch his lips you pulled back, which confused him

You laughed at his thoughtful reaction and proclaimed victory, making him think even more

In the end he just laughed and congratulated you for your victory

Endless praises as he asks in a chivalrous way for a rematch, which you accept

It essentially was the same as the first round, which made you feel a bit bad since in your mind he clearly didn't understand the rules

Head went empty when he pulled you into a kiss before you were able to back away, though

𝕺𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖔

He noticed you always talk about pocky with Idia, so he found a way to make some for you!

Brought out his (slightly burnt) homemade pocky sticks during one of your binge nights with him and his brother

You ate them regardless of their faults, but felt a bit bad that Ortho couldn't indulge in his creation too

So you asked him and Idia if they wanted to play a game with the pocky!

Idia was a bit on the fence but asked for you to explain the rules

You distributed an even amount of pocky to each of you, saying that whoever makes the best creation (via Magicam poll) with the limited amount of pocky in 30 minutes wins

Both brothers seemed interested, so you set the timer and all of you rushed to stack pocky pieces

It wasn't the easiest, since pocky didn't exactly like to stay in the positions you put it, but you gave it your all

Ortho had the advantage, as he could use a small laser to melt the chocolate enough to stick them together

Magicam agreed, as Ortho's cute little pocky cabin got majority of the votes

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆

He was incredibly curious about pocky since it's not something he's experienced

In all his travels, never once had he heard of it, so trying the snack from your world was something he was very invested about

Especially with how much you seemed to gush about it

As you pulled a box out and toward him, he noticed a cute slyness twinkle in your eyes, and you mentioned a game

He asked for the rules, so he knew what he was getting into; it was inevitable that he'd accept the challenge

He made sure to run his fingers over your scalp and behind your ear, attempting to fluster you as you took your positions

Otherwise he played fair for the round

Playing fair doesn't mean going easy, he gave it his all and it payed off

He won and gave you a celebratory kiss

You probably don't play anymore rounds after, he'd rather take the intimate opportunity to make out with you

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #ortho shroud #ortho shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

[anghraine]

A few days ago, I briefly mentioned Wickham's take on Lady Catherine, and it's stuck in my mind. At least, this specific part of the description has:

She [Lady Catherine] has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I [Wickham] rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class.

I mean, in fairness to ... Wickham (ugh), it's evidently true that Lady Catherine is not actually clever and her power and force of personality do a lot of the work of giving her a reputation for it. But I do think the way he manages to link this to Darcy is interesting.

Wickham seems to assume that Darcy can just choose that everyone connected with him has a reputation for high intelligence, which I think is pretty debatable. On top of that, Wickham assumes that Darcy would choose to do that, because of pride. He's set up an odd framework in which Darcy cares deeply about everyone around him being perceived as clever (but only for nasty pride reasons, of course!), and in fact cares so deeply that he'd bring his influence to bear in maintaining Lady Catherine's reputation for it.

I don't think Lady Catherine's reputation for cleverness rests on Darcy just wanting his family to be seen as clever or requires that explanation at all. But I find it intriguing that Wickham thinks so, or at least says he does, given the Ch 4 description of Darcy:

In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient; but Darcy was clever.

So I suspect this may be part of Wickham's attempt to acknowledge Darcy's good reputation and qualities enough to cover his ass later, while tying everything good about him to his pride. Wickham doesn't quite admit that Darcy's (alleged) desire for those around him to be seen as clever derives from Darcy being clever himself and valuing the quality, but I think it's kind of implied, and at the very least, he could suggest that he'd said something to that effect.

It's a bit how he describes Darcy's careful guardianship of Georgiana (which Wickham certainly has reason to know about!). He mostly attributes it to Darcy's reputation for being a good brother, finds a way to make it somehow about pride, and barely wedges in a grudging admission that Darcy actually has some real affection for Georgiana. I suspect he only does the last because it's so incredibly obvious that it'd be suspicious if Wickham suggested otherwise.

I do wonder, though, if part of the reason that Wickham associates Lady Catherine's reputation for cleverness with Darcy's supposed desire for his family/connections to be seen as clever is Wickham's own fixation on Darcy. Wickham knows Darcy is seen as clever and likely that Darcy values intelligence. Darcy and Wickham were brought up together as companions in the same household. And tbh I don't think Wickham himself is, or has ever been, particularly clever in the way that Darcy and Elizabeth are.

Wickham suggests that Darcy was insecure and jealous from childhood (and some readers have really wanted to believe him!). But my headcanon is that, growing up with Darcy, Wickham was the more insecure one. He was the one who was supposed to go to school and Cambridge and become a clergyman; he was supposed to be quick-thinking and good at his books and morally restrained. Darcy was the heir; he could be anything he wanted to be. Yet I would guess that young Wickham was continually outstripped by Darcy in those terms, that he came to resent Darcy's freedom and what he did with it, and that it's very easy for his mind to link Lady Catherine's supposed cleverness to Darcy's.

In Wickham's head, the connection must somehow be causal. But he can't bring himself to quite admit to anyone that Darcy's cleverness is real any more than he can admit that Darcy's generosity or moral rectitude are real. It's got to be about pride, reputation, family, fortune. And I suspect Wickham can't admit the truth to himself, either.

#i feel like wickham really blurs the lines between what qualities ly c and darcy actually have and what they have the reputation for having #because he's so much about the appearance of things and doesn't engage with the reality of them #oh and i also have headcanons about how darcy himself relates to this but that's a post for another day #anghraine babbles #long post #austen blogging #lady anne blogging #george wickham #fitzwilliam darcy #lady catherine de bourgh #anghraine's headcanons #pride and prejudice #jane austen #austen fanwank

[lostlegendaerie]

Veritas Ratio and Autistic Representation

Chances are you know autistic people in your life; autism itself is a fairly recently coined term, dating back to 1911, and can encompass a wide variety of symptoms and eccentricities which have existed since the dawn of humankind. (The 'fey-touched' child or changeling in European lore shares a lot of traits with autistic children.) Autism is a spectrum, encompassing and overlapping a lot with ADHD and other neurological disorders. There are probably millions of people out there, especially from older generations, who are on the spectrum and have no idea. I did not even get my diagnosis until I was 27.

So it is entirely possible that the creators of Veritas Ratio from Honkai: Star Rail did not intend to write him as autistic and based him on people they knew in their own lives, who, diagnosed or not, are on the autistic spectrum. However, the point of this piece is to talk about the ways in which Veritas Ratio is good autistic representation (in my opinion as a autistic person), and how people who want to write characters like this can take a page out of Honkai's book in their own work.

1) SPECIAL INTEREST. Ratio shows a *staggering* amount of dedication to the pursuit of knowledge and his quest to cure the world of ignorance. This quest of his tends to supersede everything else in his life, with no mention of any friends, family connections or romantic partners in his character story. (Said as a Ratiorine shipper - not sinking any 'ships, here) His dedication to education started early, with reading college undergraduate education levels while still in middle school - seven or so years ahead of his peers. Autism is considered a disability, yes, but it does not exclude you from being smart, and the fixation on your chosen topic(s) can be extremely useful in motivating you to reach the top of your field. His path being The Hunt also outlines this dedication; he is seeking his target without rest or distraction.

2) SENSORY ISSUES. Ratio very explicitly can become distracted and disgusted by the feeling of dirt or sweat on his skin, something that tends to be more prevalent with specific clothing textures but absolutely can manifest in a need to feel clean. He also can apparently become very irritated and overwhelmed by lights and sounds, and wears his plaster mask as a way to deaden and deafen the amount of sensory input that he receives. This allows him to think better, and is a fantastic example of what it feels like to suffer from sensory overload. (If you find yourself getting stressed in crowds, try bringing earplugs and putting them in the next time you're in a noisy restaurant and see if doesn't help you out.)

3) STRONG SENSE OF MORALITY. Autistic people tend to suffer from a somewhat black-and-white feeling of right and wrong, and can hold themselves and other people to an extremely strict moral code. This does not mean that they are always correct in what they believe is right and wrong, but it means that they can be extremely passionate about following those rules. Ratio's beef with the Genius Society and their selectivity is indicative of his unwavering passion towards sharing knowledge with the masses, but the tactless way in which he wishes to cure ignorance bleeds into our fourth point.

4) DIFFICULTY WITH SOCIAL CUES. In one of his earlier conversations with Aventurine (where he is clearly irritated at how careless Aventurine seems to be about their entire mission), Ratio inadvertently insults Aventurine's his lack of education and parents. He apologizes afterwards, stating he did not intend to come across that way, but he maintains the same imperious tone of voice. Autistic people often, but not always, struggle with social cues and can often be considered rude when we are trying to be direct and easily understood; and we can especially struggle with understanding sarcasm or sounding sarcastic when we intend to be sincere.

With my reasons for believing Ratio to be Autistic coded firmly established, let's move onto why I think he is good representation. The two most important parts of representation, in my lived experience as an Autistic person, are RELATABILITY and EMPATHY.

Ratio exhibits some of the same mentalities and symptoms I've had, such as being misunderstood and accidentally offending people and becoming extremely stressed in large crowds due to overstimulation, so he checks off the first box. But the way that the other characters in the game respect him and do not ridicule him for his eccentricities marks the second. Whether in marketing material or in character dialogue options, Ratio's love of baths, his plaster bust, and his ceaseless drive to educate other people (whether they need it or not) are seen as charming and generally positive, and those attributes are not constantly brought up (and mocked) in his interactions and dialogue with other characters. Aventurine doesn't constantly ask Ratio if he needs to leave the Dream to take a bath, and the TB's text conversations with him allow you to engage with his special interests such as his requests for problems to solve and debates to wage against you. He is canonically seen and respected as a brilliant individual, and not reduced to a joke or viewed as comic relief (e.g. Sampo, who almost exclusively is given negative dialogue options for the player to use when interacting with him and who almost every character in the story openly despises.)

Some of you are going to disagree with me in the comments (which is fine, it's my opinion), but for the few of you who read this all the way through, thank you. I hope that this helps you view Ratio and Autistic people overall in a new light, and I am excited to see where else we go from here with him and the rest of the cast!

#saro's writing #hsr meta #hsr ratio #dr ratio #Veritas ratio #autistic experiences

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

I imagine after Akari gets banned, the 'Train Clan' takes her in because Ingo took a liking to her, since they're both amnesiac an she's a sweet girl.

Kamado can't do anything because he won't dare attack the people who aren't afraid of Pokemon; and whose own Pokemon take down Alphas as if they're Bidoof.

(Also I'm sorry if Kamado is the wrong name, I mean Galaxy Commander. I'm German, his name is differnt in English and German, and I constantly mix them up)

Oh Ingo and Akari are Besties. Unlike the rest of Hisui, Ingo and his depot agents are really enthusiastic about battling and Pokémon relations, so Akari, someone equally enthusiastic and good with Pokémon, is basically pseudo-adopted pretty quickly. Not to mention battling her actually helps Ingo knock some memories loose, unlike battling the other depot agents.

I think in this AU I wanna go with a more Big Brother - Little Sister relationship with Ingo and Akari. Ingo is still a grown ass adult, but acting like a big brother for Akari comes naturally and feels really familiar to him. Think Lilo and Nani's "Oh no! Gravity is increasing on me!"

When Ingo finds out Kamado (Denboku) banished Akari knowing full well that she could DIE out in the wilds, he is VERY angry. He and the depot agents take Akari in without hesitation, she has long since been one of theirs after all.

Kamado doesn't seem to realize that the act of banishing Akari was itself a provocation. Around this time, Ingo's grown a full team of six, and his three experienced, competitively trained Pokémon have picked up agile and strong-styled moves. The guards don't even try to stop him when he walks through the village gates. He's got an aggro walk, his eyes are shadowed by his hat, his frown is deeper than usual, and he's over fucking 6 feet tall, he is the scariest motherfucker in Hisui and everyone knows it. No one is willing to stand in this man's way.

(Well, except maybe Zisu, but she liked Akari. She's gonna turn a blind eye. If anyone asks, she was inside the dojo and didn't know what was going on. She can challenge the guy to a battle later, on friendlier terms.)

Ingo doesn't hurt anyone, obviously. He simply formally challenges Kamado to a battle. Then fucking decimates him. Unlike usual, Ingo offers no polite congratulations or advice. He simply huffs, looks Kamado up and down, then leaves. The battle was enough to show Ingo that nothing he says will make it through to this stubborn man, so he decides to not waste his time lecturing him.

Kamado and the rest of the Galaxy Team takes this as a warning shot.

#Submas #Misplaced Super Train #Ingo #Subway Boss Ingo #Akari #PLA Akari #PLA Ingo #Kamado #Pokemon #Pokémon #Zisu #Captain Zisu