#THE CHANCES OF THIS BEING REAL ARE SO SMALL

[emjayewrites]

All For Us (Lewis Hamilton SMAU)

SUMMARY: Lewis Hamilton secretly dates an older woman with a daughter and the public slowly starts connecting the dots. [smau w/narrative]

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x influencer!OC Bree King (faceclaim is Sasha Exeter)

WARNINGS: verbal/emotional abuse from an ex, drama, age gap romance (Bree is 2 years older than Lewis), formula one b.s., pre-established relationship, step-daddy Lewis. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!

TAGLIST: @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @motheroffae @hrlzy @xoscar03

A/N: Read the warnings!! This oneshot may be triggering!! Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

Lewis grinned as Bree's face appeared on his FaceTime screen. "There she is! My favorite lady."

"I should hope that's still the case," Bree teased with a wink before turning her head. "Sloane, baby, come say hi to Lewis!"

A moment later, Bree's eight-year-old daughter popped into view, her face lighting up with excitement. "Lewis! Hi!!"

"Hey there, Sloane!" Lewis' smile widened. "Having fun at camp?"

The little girl nodded vigorously. "It's so cool! We went canoeing yesterday and I caught the biggest frog ever!"

"No way, that's amazing!" Lewis played along. "You'll have to show me next time I see you. Which is actually why I FaceTimed..." He glanced at Bree, who gave him an encouraging nod before he proceeded. "I was wondering if you and your mom are still planning to come to my race in Montreal next week?" he asked Sloane. "It'll be my last chance to see you before you go back to school."

"YES!!" Sloane pumped her fist in the air emphatically. "We're definitely coming! I can't wait!"

Bree chuckled fondly and ruffled her daughter's hair. As her eyes met Lewis again over the video call, her expression was full of meaning.

Though keeping their relationship under wraps wasn't easy, moments like this made it worth it to Lewis. Having this slice of domestic bliss, however ephemeral, grounded him in a way he never could have imagined before meeting Bree and her daughter. It was a small price to pay for the unexpected joy of finally finding someone who knew the real him - flaws and all.

Their relationship was still so new, barely six months old, but he felt more at peace with Bree than he could have imagined. Bree understood the punishing demands his career brought in a way no one else could. With her own entrepreneurial spirit and drive, she never asked him to compromise his ambition. If anything, she helped stoke it.

Yes, the secrecy could be tedious at times. But Lewis didn't mind. After a lifetime in the spotlight, he relished having this one thing that was just for him and Bree. At least for now.

Race day arrived and Bree made her way through the hustle and bustle of the Montreal Grand Prix paddock. Despite Sloane's excitement in the lead-up, her father had pulled one of his typical selfish moves at the last minute by insisting on taking her to the zoo that day instead.

Bree felt that familiar pang of disappointment mixed with resignation. Her ex had been more of a sperm donor than an actual parent to their daughter from the day Sloane was born. He only seemed to appear when it was convenient for him, not Sloane.

Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Bree focused on the thrill of being here to support Lewis. As an influencer, she had initially been given paddock access through her partnership with Peroni, but over the last few months, as her relationship with Lewis intensified, racing had become personal.

"You must be Bree!" She spun around at the greeting to see a tall, stocky man striding towards her, hand outstretched. Spinz stood around six-foot-three and was built like a linebacker, with a lightly tanned skin tone. His smile was kind and friendly as he enthusiastically shook her hand. "I'm Daniel, but you can call me Spinz."

"It's so great to finally meet you! Lewis has told me loads about you," Bree mentioned happily.

"Likewise," Spinz replied genuinely. "I've heard so many stories, it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Lewis and she had been intentionally slow about intermingling friends and family. They didn't want to rush things before they were both exclusive and comfortable, yet now that Sloane had grown so fond of Lewis, it felt right to begin that integration.

"Can't believe my man is finally bringing his girlfriend around the paddock!" Spinz continued, laughing delightedly. "Bout time, if you ask me." This emitted a chuckle from Bree. "Well, since you're finally here, allow me to give you the grand tour," Spinz offered, gesturing for her to follow him. "Lewis is still doing his pre-race routine, but I can show you around until he's free."

Bree nodded eagerly, falling into step beside the towering Spinz as he led them through the controlled chaos of the paddock. He pointed out the various team garages, the hospitality suites, and regaled her with funny behind-the-scenes stories from past races.

Despite the unfamiliar environment, Bree instantly felt at ease with Spinz's warm presence and easy banter. She could understand why he and Lewis had been mates for so long. There was an affable authenticity to him that put her instantly at ease.

"And this...is the sacred ground," Spinz proclaimed dramatically as they walked inside the Mercedes garage. "Though I suppose for you, it's more like hallowed ground at this point, eh?" He elbowed her teasingly.

Bree laughed, shoving him back playfully. "That's one way to put it, I suppose. I have to admit, seeing this side of his life up close is still taking some getting used to."

Before Spinz could respond, a familiar voice spoke out. "Hi, baby."

Bree shifted her gaze to see Lewis walking over to them, clad in his racing suit. His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses as he pulled her into an embrace. She melted into his arms, inhaling his familiar warm scent.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gorgeous. Pre-race craziness, you know how it is," Lewis murmured, lowering his voice. "But I'm all yours now."

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. Even with the smile on his face, Bree could sense that something seemed a bit off with him.

"How are you?" Bree asked gently.

Lewis let out an exasperated sigh. "Comme ci, comme ça." He made a wavering 'so-so' gesture with his hand to emphasize his point.

Bree's expression was knowing. "Ah, I see." With a slow blink, she decided not to pry further for now.

"Let's not worry about that now, okay?" Lewis gave her a lopsided grin, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Everything good with you? How was the tour with Spinz?"

"Great, Spinz was awesome. Thank you again for the tour," Bree replied, smiling at Lewis' friend.

Spinz waved it off. "No problem at all. I'll leave you two to it. Lew, I'll catch up with you later?"

"Of course, man." Lewis pulled Spinz in for one of their signature dap-up handshake hugs before his friend departed.

"Now that that's out of the way..." Lewis trailed off, snaking his arms around Bree's waist and pulling her close. "I can finally kiss you like I've been wanting to."

"Oh, so it's like that, Sir Hamilton?" Bree teased, removing his sunglasses to gaze into his warm brown eyes. "There, that's better. I can actually see those pretty eyes of yours now."

Lewis batted his lashes exaggeratedly. "You like what you see, huh? I could get used to all this flattery."

With that, he leaned in and captured her lips in a lingering, tender kiss, the troubles of the earlier melting away as he lost himself in her being.

Bree paced near the gate, phone pressed to her ear as she listened to her ex-husband's latest tirade.

"You're really going to let some race car driver try to one-up me as a father figure for Sloane? Come on, Bree. This guy is just a fling - he'll get bored of playing house eventually and leave you high and dry."

She bristled at his condescending tone, upset rising in her chest. Before she could snap back, her gaze landed on Sloane sitting nearby. The little girl was utterly engrossed, flipping through a "Formula One for Kids" book in preparation for their time at Silverstone.

The sight of her daughter's pure, unbridled excitement instantly calmed Bree's anger. She took a steadying breath before responding.

"You know what, you're right - you shouldn't be threatened because unlike you, Lewis actually shows up for Sloane," she stated evenly. "He's been more of a parent to her in six months than you have her whole life."

There was an indignant sputtering on the other end, but Bree kept talking before he could interject.

"Don't project your guilt about being an absentee dad onto my relationship. This isn't about you. It's about giving our daughter some stability and male role model who wants to be present."

The overhead speaker crackled to life, an announcement requesting they begin boarding their flight to Paris. Bree knew she needed to hang up now if they wanted to make it.

"I'm done wasting my time on this. We're boarding now. Maybe next time you can join us instead of just criticizing from the sidelines." She ended the call with a tap before he could respond.

Turning to Sloane, Bree plastered on a brilliant smile, letting the contentment of this new chapter wash over her.

"You ready for our adventure, baby girl?"

Sloane beamed up at her mother, curls bouncing as she nodded enthusiastically. "So ready! This is gonna be the best vacation ever!"

As they joined the line to board, hand-in-hand, Bree felt a swell of gratitude. Her daughter deserved all the happiness in the world - and she'd do whatever it took to provide it, with or without Sloane's father.

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

"No, no, you've got the lyrics all wrong!" Sloane collapsed in a fit of giggles as Lewis dramatically belted out his very off-key rendition of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" from Encanto, which was playing on the TV.

"What are you talking about? This is exactly how it goes!" Lewis protested, bopping around their hotel suite and encouraging Sloane to sing and dance along with him.

Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.

As the next song from the movie came on, Lewis grabbed Sloane's hands and started twirling her around in an impromptu dance number. Sloane squealed with laughter, trying her best to follow his goofy choreography.

Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.

Despite having to attend a couple of fashion shows, Lewis insisted on making the most of their time together. He had kicked things off with a surprise shopping trip that morning to Dior, allowing Bree and Sloane to play dress-up before walking away with an entirely new boutique-worthy wardrobe.

From there, it was on to take in the splendor of Parisian culture and sights. They strolled along the Champs-Élysées, stopping to snack on crispy crepes and macarons. Lewis delighted in teaching Sloane a few French phrases, though she quickly realized he was cheekily mispronouncing things.

As evening fell, Lewis whisked them away to a breathtaking circus show at Cirque Phénix. Sloane's eyes were saucers the entire time as she watched the daring acrobats and exotic animals perform. When it was over, she kept asking "How did they DO that?!" in awed tones.

Finally, they capped the night off with a decadent multi-course dinner at an acclaimed family-owned bistro. Even Sloane was lured into trying cuisine well beyond her usual mac-and-cheese comfort zone.

Now, lounging in their luxury hotel after baths, it was the perfect way to wind down after a memory-making day. Lewis intentionally kept the mood light and fun, perhaps sensing Bree needed a break from any lingering emotional fallout after her ex's cruel words.

Lewis and Sloane collapsed in a giggling heap on the suite's plush rug, exhausted but elated. Pressing kisses to Sloane's flushed cheeks, Lewis grinned contentedly.

"Best day ever, right team?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

As the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend approached, Lewis became adamant that Bree and Sloane finally meet his family. They would all be in attendance on Sunday to cheer him on at his beloved home race.

"It's time," he stated firmly one night as they relaxed together in bed. "You two are the most important people in my life now. I want my family to really know you both."

Bree felt a flutter of nerves, knowing this was a big step. In all his years as a global celebrity, Lewis had only ever brought one other woman home to meet his parents and siblings - his ex-girlfriend from years ago. There hadn't been anyone serious enough since then to warrant those introductions, until Bree came along.

Saturday night arrived, and Bree smoothed her hands down the summer dress she had carefully selected. She caught a glimpse of her anxious expression in the mirror and exhaled slowly.

Get it together, she scolded herself.

So what if she was a few years older than Lewis, and a single mom at that? His family seemed warm and supportive based on what little she knew. Surely they wouldn't judge her too harshly, right?

The sudden image of them dismissing her as some gold-digging cougar flashed through Bree's mind before she could stop it. She shook her head firmly. Those were her own insecurities talking, not reality.

"You ready, gorgeous?" Lewis' voice pulled her from her reverie. He stood in the doorway, Sloane's little hand clasped securely in his own.

Bree managed a tremulous smile and nodded. "As I'll ever be. Let's do this."

They made their way to the private dining room at Dishoon's, where Lewis' family awaited. The moment they entered, multiple pairs of eyes widened almost comically at the picture before them - Lewis holding Sloane's hand while his other arm wrapped protectively around Bree's waist.

Bree felt her cheeks warm as the hushed murmurs started. Lewis simply grinned, surveying the room with an almost smug satisfaction.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet the two leading ladies in my life..." he began by way of introduction. "This is Bree and Sloane."

What followed was a cheerful commotion of hugs, back slaps and well-wishes as Lewis deftly made the rounds. To Bree's relief, his family seemed just as warm and gregarious as he had described.

If anything, they seemed impressed by her vibrant spirit and career accomplishments. Lewis' father in particular was delighted to discover Bree's Caribbean heritage, insisting they were practically "family already."

At one point, Lewis was gently pulled aside by his mother, Carmen. Concern furrowed the older woman's brow as she studied her son intently.

"So...what do you think of her, Mum?" Lewis asked almost shyly.

Carmen's expression softened as she glanced over at where Bree and Nicola were giggling together. "I think...I haven't seen you look this happy and fully yourself in a long time, sweetie."

She reached up to cup Lewis' cheek, her eyes shining with emotion. "That girl clearly adores you. And you've already taken her little one into your heart as well."

Lewis' smile was beatific as he covered his mother's hand with his own. "She's the one, Mum. I'm going to marry her someday."

Carmen arched an eyebrow, though her tone remained gentle. "Are you ready for that? To be a father to that little girl, and take on all those responsibilities?"

Lewis didn't hesitate. "More than ready," he stated with conviction. "Bree and Sloane...they're my world now. I can't imagine my life without them in it."

Pulling his mother into a firm embrace, Lewis felt his heart swell almost to bursting. For so many years, this kind of profound contentment had eluded him despite all his success. But somehow, fate had brought these two incredible ladies into his life. And he would spend every day showing them how indescribably grateful he was.

As they prepared for their upcoming trip to Grenada, articles started appearing in The Sun and The Daily Mail hinting that Lewis was dating Bree. Twitter was going crazy, with Lewis' massive fandom mostly showing support, especially after photos and videos surfaced of him with Sloane at the Silverstone race weekend. Sloane had been put 'in charge' of caring for Lewis' beloved English bulldog, Roscoe, and both she and the dog were practically attached to Lewis' hip the entire time.

Meanwhile, Sloane's father was up in arms once more about the apparent relationship. Bree's phone rang with the sperm donor himself on the other line.

"How dare you let that race car driver get so close to my child!" he yelled. "He thinks he can just swoop in and play dad now?"

"I mean someone has to do it," Bree muttered under her breath.

"I'm going to sue for full custody if you keep letting that man around my daughter!" Sloane's father shouted over the phone. "You're just a useless whore letting any man walk all over you!"

It was at that moment that Lewis came walking into the kitchen, having just finished playing in the backyard with Sloane. He immediately sensed the tension on Bree's face.

"Give me the phone," Lewis said firmly, holding his hand out.

Bree shook her head, not wanting to subject him to her ex's vitriol. But then the man's voice came through again.

Lewis' jaw clenched and he commanded again, "The phone, Bree. Now."

Reluctantly, she passed it over, her eyes apologetic. Lewis gave her a reassuring nod before putting the phone to his ear. "Who the fuck do you think you are, speaking to her like that?" he said sternly.

"Who do YOU think you are?" the man retorted. "You have no right getting cozy with my kid!"

Lewis' expression hardened. "I care deeply about both Bree and Sloane," he stated firmly. "And I'll be damned if I let you disrespect them like this."

"You think you can just insert yourself into my daughter's life?" Sloane's father sneered. "Playing father figure and getting handsy with her mother? Over my dead fuckin' body."

She opened her mouth to let loose a blistering retort, but Lewis squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"Listen here, mate," Lewis' voice was low but resonant with conviction. "I love that little girl as if she were my own flesh and blood. Sloane is everything to me, to us. And I'll be damned if you try to keep us apart with your selfishness and toxic presence."

Bree's breath caught at the fierce protectiveness in Lewis' words. She covered his hand with her own, lending him her strength.

On the other end, Sloane's father sputtered indignantly before finding his voice again. "You arrogant prick! You can't just—"

"That's enough." Lewis's words sliced through the man's tirade like a whip. "Your disrespect ends now. And if you continue speaking to Bree this way, you'll never see Sloane again."

There was a pause on the other end. "Is that a threat?" Sloane's father spat.

"No," Lewis said coldly. "It's a promise." He disconnected the call and turned his full attention to Bree, wrapping his arms around her firmly. "How long has he been talking to you like that, love?"

Bree let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. "Not long...just when we started getting serious."

Lewis scoffed, rolling his eyes at her ex's audacity. The man had been absent for most of Sloane's life, and now that another man was stepping up, he wanted to play father?

"Next time he does that, record it," Lewis instructed. "Take it to your lawyers. I don't want that piece of shit thinking he can verbally abuse you however he pleases. He's going to fuck around and end up in a ditch somewhere if he keeps going down this road."

Bree searched his eyes intently. "You would...kill for me? For us?"

"Yes." Lewis met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'd do anything for you and Sloane. Anything at all."

The fierceness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

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

Bree sighed contentedly as she gazed out at the pristine Grenadian beach. So much had happened so quickly - meeting Lewis' friends and family, being accepted into their fold almost instantly alongside Sloane, yet it all felt so natural, like the missing pieces finally clicking into place.

Her eyes shielded from the brilliant sun, she watched as Lewis chased the waves with Sloane, both of them shrieking with laughter. He looked utterly gorgeous with his toned, tattooed physique glistening with saltwater, the picture-perfect image of a doting father. The idea of giving Sloane a sibling, with Lewis as the dad, sounded unexpectedly appealing. Though she had a few eggs frozen, she wondered if pregnancy at her age would be difficult, but as scary as that thought was, she couldn't fathom being with anyone else. Their seven month relationship felt more profound than any bond she'd ever known.

Down the beach, Lewis was helping Sloane construct an elaborate sandcastle, patting the wet sand into turrets.

"Lewis?" Sloane piped up suddenly.

"Yes, princess?"

"Do you love my mom?"

He smiled warmly. "Yes, I do. Very much. And I love you too."

Sloane beamed, delighted by his answer. "Will you marry my mom then? My parents were married but then they got divorced."

Lewis' heart melted at her hopeful expression. "You want me to make an honest woman out of your mum?"

She nodded vigorously. "I just want her to be happy."

"I promise I'll do everything I can to make you both happy," he vowed. "But would it be okay with you, if I married your mum?"

"Duh!" Sloane rolled her eyes dramatically. "I already think of you as my bonus dad."

Lewis felt his throat tighten with emotion at Sloane's words. This amazing little girl and her mother had utterly stolen his heart.

Gently, he pulled Sloane into a hug, resting his chin atop her head. "You know I love you like you're my own daughter, right? You and your mum are everything to me."

Sloane nodded against his chest. "I know. That's why you should marry her." She pulled back to look up at him with those big, innocent eyes. "Will you be my dad for real then?"

"Of course, princess," Lewis murmured, brushing the sandy hair from her face. "If your mum will have me, I'd be honored to be your dad in every way that matters."

Sloane grinned, throwing her little arms around his neck excitedly. Down the beach, Bree watched the tender scene with a wistful smile. She could clearly see the love between Lewis and her daughter - it was undeniable.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Lewis glanced over and raised a hand in a beckoning wave. Bree rose fluidly to her feet and made her way over, sandals dangling from one hand.

"Everything okay over here?" she asked lightly as she approached.

Lewis stood, pulling Bree flush against his side with his free arm. "More than okay," he replied, dropping a kiss on her salty hair. "We're building a sandcastle estate and could use the extra hands, right Sloane?" Sloane was too busy packing buckets full of wet sand into elaborate castle molds to answer and Lewis shrugged. "Alrighty then, let's get to work."

As they worked together under the warm sun, Bree couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments of simple joy with the little family she created.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was in full swing, and Lewis was basking in the excitement of being publicly "Instagram official" with Bree. He had Bree by his side, and he was so happy to be able to publicly show off their relationship.

It wasn't that he cared what anyone else thought - Lewis had never been one to seek approval or validation from others. But having Bree by his side made everything feel more real, more solid. She was his rock, his anchor in this wild world of racing. These last few months, although crazy at times, were the best memories to experience with Bree.

And she looked stunning as always. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves and her fitted red dress hugged her curves in all the right places. She was by Lewis' side through all the glitzy festivities and parties surrounding the race weekend, including the launch of his Almave pop-up bar. With Sloane spending the weekend with Bree's mother, it was a kid-free getaway, and he intended to take full advantage.

He knew Bree's ex-husband would be fuming seeing pictures of them together online, but Lewis didn't give two flying fucks about him anymore. He was focused solely on Bree and the profound happiness she brought him. Bree's arm was looped through his as they made their way through the crowded VIP party for the race sponsors. He greeted familiar faces with warmth and charm, introducing her to everyone he knew.

"You're a natural at this," Lewis remarked as they headed towards the bar for some much-needed drinks.

Bree laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, I'm just winging it."

He shook his head in mock disapproval as they approached the bar. "Don't sell yourself short," he said seriously before turning to order their drinks.

_____________________________________

After dinner one evening at their hotel's high-end restaurant, fans swarmed Lewis for autographs as they exited. "You're a lucky man," one told him, eyeing Bree appreciatively. "She's gorgeous."

Lewis' arm tightened around her waist. "I know," he said simply, pride warming his tone.

Back in their suite, they came together in a heated clash of lips and roving hands, shedding clothes as they stumbled towards the bedroom. Bree reveled in the hard planes of Lewis' body, tracing the lines of his tattoos as he worshipped her with his mouth.

He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her to bed, laying her down gently before joining on top of her, settling between her legs. Their bodies fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces as they moved together in a rhythm that felt almost too familiar now.

Every time they made love was like a brand new experience for them both. They never grew tired of exploring each other's bodies or finding new ways to pleasure one another.

In between stolen kisses and whispered declarations of love, they lost themselves completely in each other until they reached that explosive climax. Afterwards, they lay sated and tangled in the plush hotel linens. Bree traced idle patterns across Lewis' chest as he tucked her against his side.

"Have you thought about getting married again?" he asked quietly.

Bree's head whipped up in surprise. "Here? In Vegas?"

Lewis chuckled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "No, love. No offense to others, but I could never get married here. I meant...in a year or two, maybe. With me."

Her breath caught at the meaningful weight behind his words. "I...actually think about that a lot," she admitted shyly. "I can see us having a future together."

Warmth bloomed in Lewis' eyes. "You can?"

Bree nodded, feeling herself get swept up in the thrilling certainty of what she felt for this man. "Yes. A real future - marriage, forever."

Lewis looked utterly overjoyed as he cupped her face tenderly. "Okay then...future Lady Hamilton."

A startled laugh bubbled up from Bree's lips. "Lady Hamilton? Is that what I'll be since you're Sir Lewis?"

"Precisely." His grin was terribly smug. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"It sounds like some character from Bridgerton!" she giggled, swatting his chest playfully.

Lewis joined in her mirth, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. "I can see the resemblance."

Bree's laughter slowly faded as she gazed at the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

Her future husband - it had a deliciously appealing ring to it.

The End.....or is it?

#all for us #sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x oc #f1 x reader

[hobietopia]

★ lovely ; james potter.

info: comfort, james potter x fem!reader, under 1k.

your head nuzzles into james' neck, inhaling greedily. "you smell good..." you sigh dreamily, nails raking the tiny curls at the base of his neck.

"yeah? i took a shower earlier... used that lavender soap you like," he hums while adjusting at the duvet. he huffs softly, unsure whether the cold touch of the wall that digs into his side annoys him more or the small amount of bedding left.

he tugs at the thick blanket as if attempting to get comfortable but you choose to not think much of it. in your mind, he fancies your cuddles, your affection, like he does every day.

after few seconds of finagling and a growing frown of frustration, "can you back up just a little bit? you've left me no space and this window sill is just stabbing my side like mad..." he groans.

you pout slightly, cheeks flushing a soft hue that closely resembles one of embarrassment. "sorry," you reply softly, body rolling over before scooting towards the opposite end of the bed.

"oh, love..." he makes an awfully sweet crooning sound, lips matching your bitty frown as you hug the bunched up duvet in your arms as if wired to cuddle something, to cuddle james.

james sighs, inching closer till your back meets his front. toned arms wrap around your midriff in attempt to apologize further.

"'m sorry, i didn't mean to be all over you." you speak understandingly, barely there and james feels his heart crack into trillions of pieces.

because here you are, being his undoubtedly sweet girl, showering him in your love that it makes his own affection cower next to yours.

"it's not your fault, baby. i dunno' why i spoke that way, 'm sorry." he speak weakly, as if barely noticing his original tone of voice.

you hum, "you seemed like you had a rough day... cuddles always seem to do the trick, but i guess today's different and that's okay." your voice is nothing but a squeak, soft and meek in a way that makes james believe that you'd rather not upset him again.

he's quick to prove otherwise as he showers your nape and cheek with the sweetest of kisses, soft lips against your supple skin.

"i'm not mad, my beautiful girl. you're so kind, always caring for others, thank you for the cuddles!" he lays it on thick, tone drenched in the finest of honey from the most richest of hives.

you giggle as his kisses grow tenfold, thicker fingers tickling at your waist. "jamie!" you laugh, swatting at his wrists with no real defense, more or less for show.

laughter and tickles turn to soft grazes and a love-sick gaze that makes you melt into the sheets like putty.

"why're you looking at me like that?" you whisper, thumb grazing his hairline absentmindedly.

"'cause you're lovely," he whispers back.

"you're lovely," you quip back with ease.

"nuh-uh, sweet girl. you're definitely loveliest." he coos.

★ diwa's notes: haiii this is my first post in ages and i'm super nervous bc ik my small amount of followers are def gone bc this isn't atwow TT this was just something sitting in my drafts so i hope ppl enjoy it :3 (and ellecdc if ur reading this which is a very low chance, ty for ur advice 🤍)

© hobietopia 2024.

#★ amortentia ; james. #★ comfort. #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter comfort #james potter masterlist #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders masterlist

[daisyblog]

First Date

Summary: Harry and YN are set up on a date.

2019

Jonny had separately nagged YN and Harry to let him set them up on a date. Harry’s argument was that he was in the middle of writing his second album, and wanted to be on his own after his last break up. YN’s protest was that she was a single working Mum who didn’t have the time, and added “nobody wants to date a single mum”. 

After what felt like months of constant begging, Harry and YN both gave in to their friend and agreed to go on a date. Jonny had arranged for them to meet at a small quiet restaurant on the outskirts of London, knowing Harry would want to stay under the radar. 

YN had been nervous all day. She had messaged Jonny several times to try and cancel but he insisted that it was just nerves and she should give it a chance. Harry felt mixed emotions, part of him was nervous, he was meeting someone new but the other part of him was excited because he knew Jonny wouldn’t set him up with just anyone. 

Harry arrived at the restaurant first, being fifteen minutes early. He was shown to their table which he was grateful was tucked into a corner away from other tables. He knew that was down to Jonny’s request. Wanting to calm his nervous, Harry ordered a bottle of wine for them, hoping YN liked it too. 

He had just taken a small sip from his glass, when he saw the waiter walking towards him with a woman following behind. Harry stood from his chair, ready to greet her. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you”. Harry spoke first, bringing YN in for a hug. 

“Jonny and his persuasive ways huh?”. YN joked, causing Harry to smile knowing Jonny must have nagged YN as much as he had nagged him. 

Harry pulled YN’s chair out for her to sit before taking his place back in her own. “I ordered wine, I can get you something else if you’d prefer”. 

“No…wine is perfect, thank you”. YN smiled with appreciation, showing her little dimples. “I like your tattoos”. She complimented as she noticed them on his arm, that was exposed due to his short sleeved shirt. 

Harry glanced down as he looked at his arm, smiling slightly at the mixture of ink that covered his skin. “Uh thanks…I have too many to count”. He giggled. “Do you have any?”. He gestured to his tattoos. 

YN hesitated before explaining. “I have one…on my wrist”. She turned her hand over to reveal the delicate ink on her right wrist. “It’s my son’s name”. YN watched for a change in Harry’s response or how he may end the date now. 

But what surprised YN was Harry’s genuine grin as he looked down at her wrist. “What’s his name?”. His question was genuine, YN could tell by how he looked at her directly in the eye which a soft look. 

“Jacob”. YN smiled as she thought about her favourite person. The little boy who saved her in more ways than he would ever know. “He’s five and a real sweetheart.”. Harry noticed how YN’s whole face lit up as she spoke about him. “Does me having a son not bother you?”. YN couldn’t help but ask.

Harry frowned at her question before shaking his head. “Of course not…I don’t date people based on if they’re a parent, or if they have a certain job or x amount of money in the bank…I date people for them.”. 

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help but ask, I’m not used to people being so understanding when it comes to Jacob”. YN apologised, hoping she hadn’t ruined the date before it had started properly. 

“Hey…it’s fine, you can be yourself tonight…there’s no judgement from me.” Harry reassured her, knowing how it felt for someone not to get to know you and having a false opinion. 

“Thank you…that really means a lot”. YN smiled before taking a sip from her glass, needing to treat her dry throat. 

“So tell me about you and Jacob…I can see he’s your life and I want to know more”. The sentence caused a spark in YN’s chest at how interested Harry was in not only her but the one person who mattered the most. 

Harry and YN had talked, laughed and smiled all evening. YN couldn’t remember the last time she felt like herself and was able to be just YN and not just a Mum. Harry wondered how he hadn’t met YN sooner because for once someone didn’t want to speak to him because he was Harry Styles, he could see that YN was genuinely interested in getting to know him as just Harry. 

Harry had learnt that YN was in university studying business when she fell pregnant but had to drop out before graduating. But now owned her own florist in London. He noticed that she hasn’t mentioned her family apart from Jacob, but decided it was best to leave it that way for now. She didn’t ask one question related to the band or his music, she asked questions about his family, where he grew up, his childhood memories and all the little things that built up who he is today. 

After they had finished their meals and nicely argued about how the bill was going to be paid, they found themselves walking through a quieter part of town, still chatting and giggling like two teenagers. They wanted to blame the wine but deep down they both knew it was from the excitement of each other. 

Harry had arranged for a taxi to drop them both back home. They were both supposed to realise that YN didn’t live far from Harry’s Hampstead house. He walked YN up to her door to make sure she was home safe. They both stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Smirks covering their smiles. 

“I had a really nice time tonight”. Harry broke first, meaning what he had said. 

“Me too!”. YN felt shy for the first time all evening. 

“Can I see you again?”. Harry was bold, he hadn’t felt like this after a date before and he wasn’t willing to lose his chance. 

YN smiled, she felt special and chosen for once and inside she was screaming with happiness. Harry really wanted to see her again. “I’d love that”.

They quickly swapped numbers and Harry was eager to arrange to see YN again. Before making his way back to the taxi that was waiting patiently, he leaned in to hug YN goodbye. It was like neither of them wanted to let go but the feeling of Harry’s lips leaving a peck on her cheek is what caused YN to jump around in happiness once she closed the door behind her that night.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles writing #one direction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x oc #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry styles series masterlist #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #harry 1d #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #harry edward styles #dadrry

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 15

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 9.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Was being rescued real or just a dream? Smut in this chapter. Mentions of death/addiction.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 14

Captain Sandy Eccles and First Officer Mark Kowalczyk sit in the cockpit of their Airbus A380, preparing their journey from New York to Madagascar. 

Sandy settles into his seat at the controls, papery fingers dancing across the instrument panel as he initiates the pre-flight checks. Mark, meanwhile, takes up a position beside him, double-checking each step of the process to ensure nothing is overlooked.

"Flight control surfaces checked," Sandy announces, his brisk voice calm and authoritative. "Elevator, ailerons, and rudder are all responding within normal parameters."

Mark nods in acknowledgment, his eyes scanning the various gauges and displays before him. "Hydraulic systems pressure within limits," he confirms, his tone focused and precise. "No anomalies detected in the engine indicators."

As they make their final preparations in the cockpit, a cheerful voice greets them from the doorway.

"Good morning, Captain, First Officer," says Emma, one of the senior cabin crew members, with a warm smile. "I thought you might like a pick-me-up before we start boarding."

In her hands, Emma holds a tray with steaming cups of coffee and a small basket of pastries.

Sandy’s face lights up with appreciation. "Emma, you're a lifesaver, doll," he exclaims, reaching for a cup of coffee. "Thank you so much."

He observes the coy looks exchanged between Mark and Emma who both seem to blush simultaneously and smile before she heads out and closes the cockpit door behind her. 

“When are you going to quit making moon eyes and ask her out?” Sandy muses as he sips at his coffee.

Mark's cheeks flush even more pink as he shakes his head smiling. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” Sandy quips. "It's that obvious."

Mark chuckles as ground crew members bustle about below them, preparing the aircraft for boarding. Sandy and Mark take a moment to soak in the tranquil atmosphere and enjoy their breakfast.

The crew complete their final preparations for boarding, and Sandy and Mark continue their meticulous checks, verifying the functionality of crucial systems such as communications, navigation, and emergency equipment.

"Emergency exits are armed and cross-checked," Sandy announces, his gaze sweeping over the overhead panel. "Cabin pressure and oxygen systems confirmed operational."

Mark nods again in approval, his attention shifting to the weather radar display. "Weather radar functioning normally," he reports, his voice carrying a note of vigilance. "Keeping an eye on storm activity along our route. There’s a small swell over north-east Africa. Nothing to get too excited about."

With the pre-flight checks completed and the aircraft ready for departure, they find a brief lull in the hectic pre-departure activities to indulge in a conversation about their upcoming destination.

"Madagascar, huh?" Mark remarks, glancing at Sandy with a relieved smile. "Ever been there before?"

Sandy nods. “Several times. It never gets boring. You?”

“First time. Got a layover.”

“Has Emma got a layover too?”

Mark turns away trying to stifle a brewing grin.

“Mmm-hmm.” Sandy says, flicking controls with a smirk. “Enjoy it together. It’s paradise at this time of year. Stifling... with the heat.”

Several hours in and the flight has been smooth sailing as they cruise high above the Atlantic, but ahead looms a growing storm system, visible on the radar as a swirling mass of red and yellow.

And Sandy can see the darker clouds miles out in the distance.

He glances at Mark, his trusty co-pilot, and adjusts his headset over silver streaked hair. "Looks like we've got some weather ahead. Let's start planning a deviation. Those clouds are looking pretty gnarly."

Mark nods, his expression focused. "Agreed. We'll need to navigate around the storm to avoid the worst of it. The width is reported at one hundred and forty miles.”

“Hurricane?” Sandy queries.

“Possibly. I'll contact air traffic control for updated route instructions."

As Mark radioes air traffic control, Sandy studies the storm on the navigation display. He recognizes the signs of a significant cell but remains calm and focused, his confidence bolstered by his past experiences navigating similar weather systems.

"We'll need to deviate round to the south of the continent to skirt the edge of the storm. Once we're clear, we can resume our original course." Sandy says. 

"Roger that," Mark replies, jotting down the revised route on his flight plan. "I'll inform the passengers about the deviation and reassure them that it's just a precaution."

Sandy nods as Mark speaks into the intercom. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your First Officer speaking. We've encountered some rough weather ahead, so we'll be deviating from our planned route to avoid the storm. This’ll tack on about an extra hour of flight time and we apologise in advance for the delay. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened, and we'll do our best to keep the ride as smooth as possible."

Back in the economy cabin, both Frankie and Jude, unknown strangers at this point, don't hear the announcement, both have their headphones in; Jude being blasted with rock anthems and Frankie absorbed into a film he isn’t all that interested in. 

With the new route set, Sandy and Mark begin the process of adjusting the aircraft's heading to avoid the storm. As they descend to a lower altitude, the turbulence increases after a little while, causing the plane to jostle and sway.

Sandy grips the control yoke firmly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Storm’s got a damn wide berth. Hang on, Mark. It's going to be a bit bumpy."

"We've got this. Just a little further to go round." Mark reassures. "Nice and easy."

Despite their best efforts, the storm's intensity grows, and the turbulence becomes overwhelming. A powerful downdraft slams into the aircraft, causing it to lose altitude rapidly.

Alarms sound on the controls and Mark gasps realising a turbine has malfunctioned.

“Fuck.” Mark's heart races as he quickly scans the engine indicators. "Turbine two is showing abnormal readings," he reports, his voice tense. "Looks like it's malfunctioning due to the sudden change in airflow."

Sandy weighs their options. "We need to shut it down before it causes more damage. Initiate the emergency shutdown procedure for turbine two."

With a sense of urgency, Mark follows the established protocols, shutting down the malfunctioning turbine to prevent further complications. The aircraft shudders again as the remaining engines strain to compensate for the loss of power.

"Emergency checklist initiated," Mark confirms, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them on the control panels. "Shit. It’s not working!”

"We're losing altitude!" Sandy shouts, struggling to regain control of the plane.

"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday-" Mark begins radioing into air traffic control.

A loud explosion is heard on the left side of the plane.

Sandy frantically adjusts the controls, trying to stabilise the aircraft with Mark. Despite their best efforts, the aircraft continues to falter, its descent becoming increasingly erratic.

"I can't hold her! We’re going down! Brace for impact!" Sandy bellows over the screech of the failing engines. 

“Brace! Brace!” Mark yells into the radio, his shrill instruction echoing around the aircraft. The faint sounds of screaming can be heard from the cabin.

With a deafening roar, the plane strikes the surface of the ocean, its wings shattering upon impact and fuselage torn apart. Water floods into the cockpit as the aircraft begins to sink beneath the choppy waves.

Sandy is killed instantly upon the impact of nose diving, and Mark fights against the rising water, desperately trying to free himself from his seat. But it’s no use. 

He drowns, unable to escape his fate, moments later. 

After just over a year on the island; one year, one month and ten days to be precise, (or if you want to get real into the numbers to work it out, I’ll save you the trouble - it’s four hundred and five agonising days) with it just being the two of them, the hustle and bustle of people suddenly swarming around them can be too much to bear. 

It’s a natural reaction, after spending copious amounts of time in a peaceful place with no noise except the soft conversation of the person beside you, that any loud noises or crowds will alarm you. 

Jude watches Frankie for a brief moment, like all the hysteria around her has fizzed away and she’s studying him under a microscope. Watching how he becomes bewildered and a slight panic rises up inside of his wide brown eyes, taking them over, and then disappears as quickly as it comes. 

And then he's alert once more, like he’s just woken up and knows where he is all over again, a sudden spark of remembrance breaking through the dark dementia-like cloud swirling inside his mind.

Frankie will be ghostly still until a small movement, a sudden jolt in his back like he’s hiccupped, will convince her he isn’t a robot sitting rigid on the chair next to her in the ship’s main control room as they wait to dock on the mainland.

They’re dry and dressed in ill-fitting Navy gear; grey sweatpants and sweaters that are a little too long in the arms and swamp their malnourished frames. It feels strange to have shoes back on her feet as Jude looks down at the plimsolls with laces tied in a neat, floppy bow at her ankles.

Frankie holds a warm cup of coffee inside of his right hand that he sips slowly; the other is firmly interlocked with her fingers inside her lap. The bitter aroma of it filters into his nose and it’s a scent he savours for a few moments, even if it tastes like watered down shit, waiting for the familiarity to register, before he sips it and licks the sharp residue off of his lips. 

Jude reaches forward and wipes away a drip of coffee caught inside his bushy beard fibres, shining at her like a brown diamond, and smiles. She tugs on his beard gently. 

“I’m going to miss this.”

“I’m fuckin’ not.” Frankie chuckles. “It’s coming off the first chance I get.”

She purses her lips and makes a sad face as he rolls his eyes, smirking as he drinks his coffee some more, bewildered that he’s drinking coffee again at all after drinking tasteless rain water for so long. 

A swill of officers are on deck, chattering and the sounds of radio exchanges with tinny voices is heard somewhere in the distance, ebbing around them. 

Frankie looks back and forth at Jude with an expression that is mostly unchanging during the journey back to land.

It begins to creep her out a little bit the more she sees it; making prickles rise on the back of her neck. He suddenly has a way of making her nervous for absolutely no reason at all each time she glances up at him hunched over the coffee cup unmoving and looking like he has no idea where he is again. 

Through the rhythmic hum of the engines filling the air, she finds herself struggling to comprehend the reality of their situation herself. It all feels like a dream - a hazy, surreal blur of events that she can't quite wrap her mind around.

They've been rescued, she reminds herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazes out at the vast expanse of ocean stretching endlessly before them. After days - or was it weeks? - in the aftermath of the tsunami, they've finally been found, plucked from the brink of oblivion by the steady hand of fate.

But despite the overwhelming evidence of their salvation - the towering masts of the ship, the crisp uniforms of the crew bustling about their duties - Jude can't shake the lingering sense of disbelief that clings to her like a stubborn shadow.

It all seems too good to be true, too improbable to be real. She pinches her arm again and feels nothing but a terrifying numbness to it.

Wake up...

Frankie notices and glances down at her squeezing her skin between her nails. 

“Hey,” he says, releasing her grip. “Jude. It’s really happening.”

His eyes draw her in, ground her feet to the soft vibrations of the ship cutting through the waves, drawing ever closer to the distant horizon where the promise of land awaits, she finds herself clinging to his hand tighter, her fingers white-knuckled with tension.

Each passing moment feels like a lifetime, each mile bringing them closer to a destination that still feels impossibly far away.

But then Frankie flinches again, like music blasting through earphones loudly into his ear canal unexpectedly as the captain approaches them.

“We’re almost there, not much longer now. We’ll escort you guys to the American embassy. I’ve had a chat with them about you. They’re going to help you get home.” He announces clearly. 

“Thank you,” Jude replies, timidly, the sound of her own voice seeming too loud to her as her thoughts try to arrange themselves into some sort of comprehension.

“Where’s ‘there’?” Frankie questions the captain.

“South Africa, Cape Town, Sir.”

“I’ll be back. Drink some of this shitty coffee.” Frankie smiles at her, as he pushes the cup into her trembling fingers.

"I hate coffee..." She smiles, weakly.

"I know." Frankie squeezes Jude’s hand and then follows the captain.

Frankie hovers beside him looking out at the large windows in the vast control room.

“Captain. You said we were found amongst a group of islands?” Frankie asks him carefully.

“Yes Sir, the Prince Edward Islands.” He points to the satellite at two large, land-shaped clusters. “Those are the mainland islands, but we picked you up on a smaller rock scattered further out. There are lots of them. The islands have been previously used for penguin conservation. No-one inhabits them anymore though.”

“I think someone did at some point.” Frankie concludes.

“What do you mean?” The captain asks. 

“There was evidence of someone being on that island long before us. There was a man-made structure built, like a shelter? We found a switchblade and rusted tin cans. And remains…”

The captain nods thoughtfully. “It could have been someone from the conservation team, or maybe someone like yourselves who got stranded for a while? Fishermen get stuck out here on a regular basis if the tide turns. But there haven’t been any reported people missing to my knowledge for years. We’re out here a lot, supporting the territories. We have our base at Port Elizabeth.”

Frankie thinks for a moment. “Your officer in the boat, he said he looked for us. I’m wondering how far off course the plane was when it crashed,” Frankie says, folding his arms around himself as he looks out the window at the empty sea presented before him.

The captain turns to him. “Most searches are conducted in and around the immediate area where the plane drops off of radar-”

“Yeah, I know. I-I used to fly. Army. Retired.” Frankie explains tentatively.

“Ranking?”

“Captain.”

The captain salutes at Frankie out of respect for an equal. “Your training kept you alive. Might’ve been a different story if you were just a regular civvie.” 

As Frankie stands on the deck of the naval ship, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, he can't help but reflect on the harrowing journey that brought them both to this moment.

Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, they had survived - against all logic, against all reason. And as he looks back on their time adrift at sea, trapped on the island, enduring the forceful brunt of the tsunami, he realises that the captain is right; it probably was his training in the army that had kept them both alive for so long.

In the face of danger, his instincts had kicked in, guiding Jude through the treacherous waters with a steely determination born from years of discipline and resilience.

Whether it was rationing their meagre supplies, building shelter, or weathering the brutal storms that swept across the ocean, he had drawn upon the skills honed during his time in the military to keep them safe, to keep them alive.

But it wasn't just his training that had seen them through - it was also the unwavering bond forged between them in the crucible of adversity. Together, they had faced the raging tempests and the relentless swells, standing side by side against the onslaught of the island’s fury.

And in those moments of darkness, it was their shared strength, their shared determination, that had sustained them when all hope seemed lost.

“Crews were out here, including us supporting them, scouting for wreckage for weeks. We found some, but of course you have to remember the ocean is vast; debris can travel in all sorts of directions on the current, and can travel at different speeds. It’s impossible to search the entire ocean for survivors, especially when we didn’t find any at all in the immediate vicinity where the plane went down.” The captain swallows and Frankie watches distantly as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat like a forlorn knot. 

“I’m sorry that you guys weren’t found sooner, I really am. We were convinced everyone on that plane had perished, all the evidence we found suggested it. You guys drifted so far from the crash site, that it’s a pure miracle you survived.”

“A miracle.” Frankie snorts.

“What else could it be?” The captain queries. 

Frankie doesn’t answer. Instead pondering it quietly to himself as he stares back out at the ocean as an officer approaches the captain diverting his attention. 

Emotionally sterile and just gazing out at nothing; seeing nothing even though a dark land shaped mass is visible on the horizon now.

There's a surge of hope - a flicker of excitement igniting deep within his chest at the prospect of finally reaching solid ground after so long being lost.

But alongside the hope, there's also a twinge of apprehension - a nagging doubt curling into something fretful that whispers in the back of his mind, reminding him of all they've endured and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

Frankie looks down at his hands to find them shaking again. Fingers trembling with a mind of their own.

He squeezes them into tight fists, nails cutting into his palms, and willing himself to calm down.

When the ship docks, Frankie and Jude are escorted to a Navy vehicle and driven inwards from the coast towards central Cape Town. 

Jude looks out the window, observing the colourful, loud world that has left them behind for so long. The dusty streets, the aromas from food stalls as they pass bustling markets making her stomach growl with the infusion of spices tickling her nose as they waft in through the windows of the car.

The yells and sounds of people crowded in the streets make her ears ache. The rumble of passing cars reverberates heavily through the air, their engines growling as they prowl the bustling streets. The screech of brakes and the blaring of horns add a discordant note to the air and she practically jumps out of her skin every time it happens.

She feels a gentle squeeze around her hand and looks across the seat at Frankie as he holds his arm out and she shifts closer to him, into the safe embrace of him, ever wearing that cautious gaze in his furtive eyes.

“Who are you going to call?” Jude asks him dreamily, as they both stare emptily at the scenery whizzing by them in a blur.

“Ghostbusters,” he remarks with a sardonic grin and then shrugs. “Fuck, I don’t even know…”

Despite being rescued, a pang of anxiety claws at his starving gut as he comes to a sobering realisation - he doesn't know any numbers off by heart to call anyone and let them know he's safe.

In the chaotic aftermath of their rescue, amidst the flurry of activity and the rush of emotions, he hasn't given much thought to the practicalities of reaching out to loved ones. Now, faced with the stark reality of his predicament, he feels a surge of panic rising within him. How will they know he's alive? How will they know he's safe?

Will anyone even care to know?

“You gonna call your mom?” He asks, swallowing down the bile. 

“I bet she won’t believe it’s me really calling her.” Jude says with a weak smile birthing out on her face.

It seems an incredibly daunting thought; the anticipation to call and hear her voice is overwhelming, surreal even. Like it will never bloom into fruition because the pain of saying the words out loud - explaining where she’s been for the past four hundred and five days - is unbearable to even begin unravelling apart to make sense of for herself, let alone another hysterical person on the end of a phone line.

As the Naval car rumbles along the busy streets, inching its way towards the embassy, Frankie and Jude find themselves momentarily halted by traffic jamming up. The sounds of honking horns and distant chatter fill the air, mingling with the stifling heat of the evening.

In the midst of the commotion, a young African boy on a battered moped pulls up beside them, his eyes wide with curiosity as he peers in through the car window.

His dark skin is coated with a sheen of sweat, and his gaze, filled with a mixture of wonder and innocence, falls upon them both, taking in their appearances with a mixture of awe and confusion.

Frankie can feel the weight of the boy's curious stare, a silent observer to their dishevelled state - clothes too big, hair wind-tossed, faces etched with exhaustion and relief. Frankie meets the boy's face, struck by the depth of emotion reflected in those big, expressive eyes.

There's a silent exchange between them - a moment of connection that transcends language and culture, bridging the gap between their worlds with a simple glance.

For a brief moment, time seems to stand still as they lock eyes with each other, their worlds intersecting in this fleeting moment of shared humanity amidst the chaos of the city streets. There's something oddly poignant about the encounter, a silent acknowledgment of the fragility of life, the universality of human experience.

The boy doesn’t know about Frankie and Jude’s life-altering struggles, that they’ve been lost for so long, and yet he smiles at Frankie, offering a mouth full of chipped and wonky teeth. 

But as quickly as it begins, the moment passes, the boy gives Frankie a shy smile before revving his engine and disappearing into the throng of vehicles. 

His eyes, already weary from months of uncertainty and hardship, begin to sting with unshed tears, and a lump forms in Frankie’s throat as he struggles to contain the overwhelming swell of feeling.

In that brief exchange, something profound has shifted within him - a stirring of empathy and compassion that cuts through the layers of cynicism and weariness that has come to define his existence. It’s as if the innocence and wonder reflected in the boy's eyes has pierced straight through to his soul, awakening a dormant part of himself that he has long believed to be lost.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over, Frankie turns away from the window, unable to shake the weight of the moment.

Jude reaches up and kisses his neck, feeling his beard tickling her cheek.

As the Naval car inches forward once more, carrying them ever closer to safety and sanctuary, Frankie finds himself grappling with a newfound sense of vulnerability, a rawness of emotion that he has long buried beneath layers of bravado and stoicism.

Frankie looks down at Jude nestled against his chest and kisses the top of her head.

The Navy officers escort them into the American Embassy in Cape Town; a large and formidable white building with heavy security and armoured vehicles. The American flag is flapping around in the breeze and Jude looks up at it, feeling a sense of familiarity and deep seated relief to view the stars and stripes waving back at her.

They’re escorted to the consulate main building where a representative for The States meets them and shakes their weary, calloused hands as he regards them over the rim of his thin spectacles carefully. 

“Wow, you guys have really been through the ringer, ain’t ya?” He says with a Southern twang, motioning for them to sit and regarding their dishevelled, malnourished appearance with some appal. “I’m Jake. I’ll be assisting ya’ll whilst ya here with us.”

“How long will that be?” Frankie enquires, anxiously. He scratches at the back of his head, his cap still firmly planted on top of his scraggly curls that reach down to his shoulders.

“Hopefully not long at all. Take a seat, make yourselves comfy there.” Jake motions to the chairs again; watching as they sit on the edges tentatively like the chair will swallow them whole. 

“What’s going to happen to us now?” Jude asks. “We just wanna go home.” She explains trying to stifle a swamping yawn.

The thought of finally returning home feels like an alien concept. It's a notion that seems both tantalisingly close and impossibly distant, like a dream she's afraid to fully grasp for fear of it slipping away.

“And we’re going to get ya back there for sure, ma’am. We need some details from ya so we can get ya some new passports and check a few things out. Now, I hear you’re ex-military, Sir?” Jake says, addressing Frankie directly.

Frankie nods and slumps back in the chair.

“Well, that works in your favour. We can get ‘em to help escort you guys home, through the back door as it were.”

Frankie smiles through tight lips as Jake clears his throat.

“Back door?” Jude queries, confused.

“Without much of a hubbub. You guys’ll make international news soon enough.”

The thought fills Frankie with a potent mix of anxiety and apprehension, as it does with Jude. The thought of their faces splashed across television screens, of their harrowing ordeal dissected and analysed by strangers, sends a shiver down Frankie's spine.

It's a stark reminder of the scrutiny and judgement that awaits them on the other side of this journey - a world that seems increasingly foreign and hostile with each passing moment.

“What happened to the plane?” Frankie braves. “Do you know why it came down?”

Jake pauses and clasps his hands together on his desk. “Yeah, I remember the story. Was mechanical failure from the storm. The engines failed I think, from what I remember. It was all over the news worldwide, social media and all that kind of stuff. I don’t really understand that Instagram thing myself, but they never found any survivors.” Jake explains.

He pulls out his iPhone, taps onto the screen then hands it to Frankie. It’s a Google search page of all the headlines and images from the crash.

Frankie scrolls through them with an unsteady finger. He stops when he sees a headline with his own face and name listed as one of Flight 816’s missing passengers. An old army photograph of him in his sandy combat gear, eyes squinting in the sun. 

Frankie turns the phone screen to Jude and looks back at her with worrisome, dull peepers. 

“Shit...” She mutters skimming the article. She hands the phone back to Jake and he puts it on the desk. 

“We’re going to put ya guys in a hotel not too far from here, give you some comfort and ya’ll can get some rest. Before that we’re going to get ya checked over with a couple of doctors, make sure you’re healthy, that kinda thing.”

“Can we make some calls?” Jude asks him eagerly.

“Of course ya can. I’ve no doubt ya families will be keen to hear from ya. I imagine it will feel like a miracle to them, huh? To have ya back after all this time?”

Jude gulps as her fingers knot in her lap.

“Listen guys, I can’t imagine what y'all have been through. But we’re going to getcha home, we’re going to help ya as much as we can, okay?”

“Thank you, Jake.” Jude says to him, offering him only a glimmer of a small, worn out smile. 

“Ya need anything, ya let me know.” Jake opens a file on his desk. 

“A razor would be a great start.” Frankie clarifies.

Jude smiles at him and nods in agreement.

“Y’all will have everything ya need, don’t worry. Alrighty here, let’s start with ya full names, shall we?” Jake picks up a pen. He looks at Frankie and waits for him to answer. 

“Catfish,” Jude replies rather deadpan. 

“Hmm?” Jake asks, eyebrows raising.

She giggles, almost like a snort that hiccups out of her, and Jake looks at her slightly bemused.

She can’t help but laugh out louder until she can’t stop. Real gut rolling belly laughs that erupt out of her mouth and Frankie joins in too, snickering until eventually he can’t contain it and lets out a loud hawhawhaw that continues to roll out from him, until he clutches his stomach like he’s doubled over in that crazed laughing pain.

Jake observes them both bewildered. “Y’all wanna let me in on the joke?”  

They both undergo a medical at the local hospital as soon as they wrap up the formalities with Jake, escorted by a representative from the consulate to translate for them where needed.

A lot of hustle and bustle through their exhausted state, when all they really want to do is to eat, sleep and call their loved ones. 

The delay is starting to get to them as they exchange tired and impatient looks between themselves, gripping each other’s hands and squeezing when it starts to get overwhelming.

They’re separated temporarily as they’re examined; a feeling that neither of them want to get used to.

A palpable sense of unease settles over Frankie like a heavy shroud. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he finds himself separated from the familiar presence of Jude - the one constant in an ever-shifting sea of uncertainty.

Frankie clocks Jude’s furtive, panicked gaze back at him as she’s ushered behind a curtain and feels the pang of anxiety hit her gut too, making her stomach all swirly like the ocean current that has tried - and failed - numerous times to drown them both.

With each passing moment, Frankie finds himself growing increasingly restless, the minutes stretching out into an agonising eternity as he waits anxiously for her return.

The sterile surroundings only serve to amplify his sense of isolation, the stark fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that dance mockingly across the walls.

Frankie sits on the examination table in another bay as the doctor asks him about his general health and prods gently at his stomach and over his ribs. He listens to his heartbeat and takes a swab from his mouth. 

In the other bay, a similar process ensues with a female doctor who takes blood, swabs and asks a barrage of personal questions to Jude. 

“What have you been eating on the island? Have you been ill at all whilst there? When was your last period?”

“Period?”

Jude’s mind cast back to the blood trickling down her legs in the sand and the gut wrenching pull in her stomach reminds her of the unexpected loss all over again, like a wave smashing into her.

“Urm... I can’t really remember, maybe seven months or so, maybe less? I’m sorry, it’s all so…” She searches back in her mind against the blank void of time, unsure exactly when it was that she’d had her last one on the island. 

It’s not really something you consider at first, bleeding monthly on a deserted island with no sanitation products to hand. But when it’d happened a few weeks or so into first being stranded there, the heavy belly cramps registering deep in her uterus, and discreetly keeping it from Frankie’s awareness, she’d used dark strips she’d torn off a t-shirt and rolled it up inside her panties. It felt like she was living in the dark ages before tampons even existed. 

But out in the middle of nowhere Jude had to adapt and she hid the evidence well from him. Or at least if he did know, he was good not to mention it and add to her embarrassment.

But then she realised, that slow unsettling feeling creeping over her shoulders, one day on the shoreline washing out her hair, that she hadn’t had a period for some time after they’d started sleeping together.

Dawning on her then that they’d been pretty reckless, but when you’re in the throes of passion and wrapped up in one another, practicality flies out the window. But the months had worn on and there was no real repercussion from their love making, no signs of a pregnancy. No period, no risk of a baby right? 

Evidently she was wrong. 

“You’ve lost a lot of weight, it will affect your cycle for a while, but as you gain weight again it should return to normal. If it doesn't, your doctor back home can advise you further.” The doctor says. 

“I urm... I-I think I had a miscarriage on the island.” Jude squeaks quietly, unable to look the doctor in the eye like she’s done something shameful.

She lowers her clipboard and touches her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she replies gently. ”If that’s the case, I’ll need to examine you, make sure there’s no lingering infection or anything, will that be okay?”

Jude nods and lays back on the gurney as the doctor pulls on some latex gloves.

In the other bay, the doctor places his cold stethoscope all over Frankie’s bony back, asking him to breathe in and out and hold his breath for as long as he can. He asks him about any injuries sustained, anything that worries him currently and how he’s feeling in his general state of mind. 

Frankie shrugs. “I’ve been stuck on an island for over a year thinking I would die every day. I’m sure there’s a fuckin' adjustment period for that, right?”

The doctor doesn’t appreciate his sarcasm and doesn’t respond, instead writing out a prescription for vitamins and supplements. 

“I had a fever... On the island, not too long ago, and a rash too.” Frankie mutters through a stifled yawn. 

“What kind of fever?”

“I’m not sure. I was out for a few days. Hot, vomiting... Delirious, that kind of thing.”

“And the rash, was it all over your body or just concentrated?”

“All over I think. Red and angry."

“Were you bitten by a mosquito at all?” The doctor probes, regarding him.

Frankie shrugs again. “Not that I specifically remember. I was bitten by a lot of things out there.”

“We’ll take some blood, check it for anything that could be lingering in your bloodstream. You could have possibly had Dengue Fever. It's quite common out here with mosquito bites. But easily treatable if you have access to meds, which I appreciate you didn’t, of course... Couple that with your malnutrition and weak state, you’re lucky you didn’t catch anything worse. I’ll prescribe you some meds, make sure it’s all gone. Have you got any allergies? Any medication that you’re sensitive to?”

As Frankie absorbs the doctor's questions, he finds himself torn between conflicting impulses.

On one hand, there's a voice in the back of his mind urging him to speak up - to lay bare the truth about his past addiction and the struggles he's faced in order to ensure he receives the proper care and support he needs.

But alongside that voice, there's another - an insidious whisper of doubt that sows seeds of fear and uncertainty in his heart. What if they judge him? What if they see him not as a survivor, but as a liability - a broken soul in need of fixing?

The thought of laying bare his vulnerabilities to strangers fills him with a profound sense of unease, a fear of being labelled and stigmatised further for the demons he's battled in the past.

In the end, as the doctor's gaze meets his own, Frankie makes a choice - a leap of faith into the unknown. With a deep breath and a steady resolve, he opens his mouth to speak, ready to face whatever consequences may come with the truth. 

"I... I have a history of addiction. Drugs. Cocaine."

The admission hangs heavy in the air, casting a palpable tension over the bay as the doctor's expression shifts, registering a mixture of surprise and concern.

Frankie can feel the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him, but he refuses to look away, steeling himself against the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

"I've been clean for... for a while now," he continues, the words coming more easily now that he's broken the silence. "But I thought you should know. In case... in case it's relevant to my treatment. I can’t have any meds that have any psychoactive effects.”

There's a beat of silence as the doctor absorbs his words, their gaze searching his face for any sign of deception or evasion. But Frankie meets his searching gaze head-on, his eyes clear and unwavering as he waits for his response.

Finally, the doctor nods, a gesture of acknowledgment tinged with understanding. "Thank you for being honest with me," he says, his voice gentle but firm.

Frankie watches as the doctor strikes through his previous writings on his pad. "Let's take some blood."  

Frankie holds out his arm as the doctor pricks it with a needle.

“What happened to your neck?” The doctor asks, turning Frankie’s head gently so he can examine the scars that run across it.

“I was burned when the plane crashed...” Frankie surmises, his thoughts turning dark as he remembers the smell of his skin sizzling in the water.

“Hmm, looks like they’ve healed pretty well. They look like they were partial-thickness or second degree when it happened. Might be best to apply some topical cream to help with the fading. I’ll add it to your prescription.”

The doctor places the blood vial in a testing bag and gives Frankie a cotton ball to hold against the needle poke hole in his arm.

“Overall, I’d say you’re in pretty good shape, considering. The malnourishment is reversible, you need to simply eat. Foods that are rich in vitamins and high in energy, fortified foods and vegetables, that kind of thing. In moderation of course. I can’t stress this enough, but if you gorge you’ll make yourself really sick. Your stomach has shrunk significantly, so although you may feel famished, you need to fill up really slowly, okay?”

Frankie nods. “Sure.”

“Refeeding syndrome can be fatal, alright?” The doctor warns and Frankie is nodding so much it feels like his head might fall off his shoulders. 

"Eat small and slow. Got it."

“I’d advise you to visit your dentist, your optometrist, and follow up with your own doctor too when back home. Check on your overall health with them regularly until things get back to normal with your body. Keep an eye on any changes to your skin too; you’ve been exposed to the sun for a long time without a barrier, so check on any moles or freckles you have regularly for any changes. They all look okay to me at the moment.”

“No problem.” Frankie replies; his foot tapping on the floor anxiously.

With a heavy sigh, Frankie clenches his fists in frustration, a surge of restless energy coursing through his veins. Every instinct screams at him to find a way back to Jude, to break free from the confines and monotony of the examination bay and seek out the one person who has become his lifeline in this tumultuous world.

In the other bay, Jude winces as the doctor takes an internal swab and bites down on her lip. 

“You can sit up now.” The doctor says with a sincere smile. “On first inspection you look completely fine down there, but I’ll send this to the lab and we’ll know for sure. I can write you a prescription for some contraceptives if you’d like, it might help with regulating your periods during the transition back to your normal cycle. In the meantime, rest. Take it easy. You’ve been through a lot.”

The moment she says it, Jude starts to well up. The natural reaction you have when anyone shows you any kindness or sympathy at your plight. 

The doctor hands her a box of tissues and she takes a few out, wiping her gritty eyes. 

“It might be a good idea to seek some therapy, talk to someone about your ordeal. You’ll find your emotions will be up and down for a long time and that’s perfectly normal.”

Jude nods at the doctor blowing her nose. Emotions being up and down is a fucking understatement. 

“Thank you,” she says to the doctor, and she’s all too eager to get out of the bay and be back with Frankie. 

“How did it go?” Jude asks him through red eyes, and he pulls her in for a long, tight hug.

“Horrible.” Frankie replies stoically.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Absolute agony being away from you.” He says softly. 

“It was.” Jude agrees. 

“You ever heard of refeeding syndrome?”

“No.”

“We gotta eat real slow, even though I wanna devour a fuckin’ whole cow right now.”

Jude snickers.

“Did they take your blood?” Frankie asks.

Jude nods. “Pesky vampires,” she remarks through a smirk up at him. 

"C'mon. Let's get out of here. I fuckin' hate hospitals." He says.

The hotel room isn’t that fancy.

Nothing over the top; conspicuous and modest, but more than anything it’s clean and smells fresh with a lemony scent lingering in the air around their nostrils.

The air conditioner is whirring out from under the window and the net curtains billow softly in the recycled air flow. 

They wander into the small room and look around like they’ve just hit the jackpot.

There’s a double bed with clean, crisp sheets. Actual pillows and a night stand with a gloaming lamp. There’s a small flat screen mounted to the wall on the opposite side; an armchair and a closet with empty hangers.

Large windows offer a glimpse of the city skyline twinkling in the dark, a reminder of the world beyond their temporary sanctuary.

It's a moment they've both been longing for, a brief respite from the chaos and uncertainty that has consumed their lives all day.

For Frankie, the sight of the hotel room is a balm to his weary soul - a tangible reminder that they have finally reached safety after so many harrowing experiences.

He takes a moment to savour the simple pleasures of a comfortable bed and a hot shower, luxuries that he’s sorely missed during their time stuck on the island.

They both simultaneously breathe in and out and turn to smile at one another in that ambient relief. 

Frankie puts down the carrier bag he’s holding, full of clean clothes that the embassy has provided, medicines and some personal items, such as coveted toiletries.

Jude is holding a similar bag for herself and has a key card for the room next door.

Frankie wanders over to the bathroom and there’s a large walk-in shower, sink and toilet with clean towels, mini soaps and a large mirror mounted on the wall above the sink and brightly illuminated. 

He steps inside gingerly and regards himself in the mirror, just looking at the worn face staring back at him that he no longer recognises.

Taking off his trusty cap that reeks of the sea and sweat, his hair is wild and untamed, shaggy below his ears and curling into his shoulders.

His once patchy beard is full and busy with wiry hairs that seem more silver in some places. It's been over a year since he last saw his own reflection, and the sight before him is both jarring and surreal.

His usually plump lips are cracked with dryness and a faded purple rather than the heart coloured cerise they usually are naturally. His dark eyes, that have seen and been through so much, are now dull and faded when they used to be full of vibrant zing.

It’s possible, he thinks, that he’s aged significantly beyond his years. He most definitely has, deep inside of him somewhere. 

Frankie regards his shrunken appearance, his collarbone so prominent as he removes his Naval sweater. His ribcage is explicitly noticeable and he winces at the state of his aching and tired body presented back to him.

“Shit...” Frankie sighs despondently.

Jude appears at the doorway, watching him regard himself as he runs his fingers through his beard and hair, examining every aspect of his gaunt appearance in the ghastly mirror.

She ventures into the bathroom next to him and dares herself to look at her own reflection, keeping her eyes to the floor like she’s avoiding a monster tailing her, until she feels Frankie put his hands on her shoulders behind her, anchoring her.

There’s nothing of her, the once supple curves of her body are now straight, flat lines with no definition or skin that glows with health and vitality.

Despite being tanned from months of relentless sun burn, her skin appears dull and lifeless. Hey eyes are sunken into the sockets of her skull and the bags under them just confirm wholly how tired she absolutely feels.

Her braid is hellishly tangled; her hair lifeless and no longer has the sleek bounce she remembers, filled with split ends.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, utterly aghast at the state of herself. 

“You’re still beautiful to me,” Frankie whispers, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her stomach. “Todavía tan jodidamente hermosa.” (Still so fucking beautiful.)

They look at one another in the mirror, trying to accept the alien looking strangers who are staring back at them with horrified reflections. 

“I’ll let you get washed up,” Jude begins, devastated as she heads towards the door, but he pulls her back by her wrist gently. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, hermosa,” he says softly and pulls her in close to him.

Frankie kisses her, tilting her chin up and she stands on tip toes as he pulls her close. She giggles and wriggles away from his face as his beard tickles her lips.

“Yeah, we really need to cut this,” Jude says, fingering through his crispy beard. 

Frankie steps away out of the bathroom for a few moments and brings the bag back in with him. He empties the contents of the toiletries onto the sink and finds some scissors and a razor, and holds them out to her. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and shave this fuckin’ thing off my face?” He asks her through a wry grin.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she chuckles.

Jude cuts large chunks of hair from his beard carefully, keeping as close to his skin as possible as he perches on the toilet with the seat down.

Opening his legs so she can stand in between, his hands sweep over her backside and squeeze occasionally.

"This is very distracting," she hums as he kneads and squeezes her flesh.

"I know," he surmises with a grin.

Once she’s cut enough off, she wets his face and covers his chin and neck in shaving foam and begins running the razor over his face gently. 

“There you are,” Jude marvels as his taught skin is finally revealed from under the hair.

The same face she remembers from when he first appeared on the island, staggering up the sand bank towards her with wide, panicked eyes. “You want it all gone?”

He nods. “It’ll grow back soon enough.”

Frankie pulls down her sweats as she steps out of them and sits on his knee.

“How you holding up?” He asks as he feels the scrap of the blade over his skin. 

Blinking, Jude nods. “I keep waiting for it to feel real.”

“Yeah.” He nods. 

“This has to be a dream.” She sounds like she’s far away. “But… I’m not waking up.”

Frankie takes her hand and presses it against her chest. She can feel the steady throb of his heart under her finger tips.

“It’s real.” He confirms. "We're here."

Jude smooths away the remaining foam with her fingers when she’s done, revealing a smooth and pallid jaw line against the dark tan of his face, and he lunges forward and kisses her deeply. 

Frankie stands up as she wraps her legs around his waist and he steps into the shower with her, peeling her out of her remaining clothes as they’re saturated under the warming stream. 

The hot water feels incredible and they both gasp out in satisfaction as the jet sprays them down, laughing in relief and wonderment at such a simple thing as hot water after all this time of bathing in the murky sea. 

“Oh my God!” Jude calls out, closing her eyes, feeling the heat on her skin, and Frankie throws his head back, letting the water drown him and soak his shaggy hair.

He shakes it about like a dog and she laughs as he chuckles, kissing her again. 

He reaches for some shower gel and sniffs it in his hands before offering his palms out to her to smell it in return. It smells of herbs and bergamot; woody scents like the forest and the notes dance inside her nostrils long after it’s absorbed into her skin. 

He runs his soapy hands all over her body, taking his time to clean and massage her, working the nodules at the back of her neck, swooping his hands under her arms to run them down her back and grab her ass with them, making her smile and groan out. 

Frankie reaches for the razor and crouches down, tapping his thigh as she puts her foot on it.

Jude watches as he shaves away the hair from her legs gently, looking up at her with a smile pinched between his teeth as the water sprays against his back. He’s tender, running his hand over her freshly smooth skin and admiring her when he's done. 

"So fuckin' beautiful," he says in wonder.

Jude reaches for his hair, scratching around the back of his neck fondly with the shampoo as he kisses just above her wet belly button. 

On his knees, he hooks her leg over his shoulder and instantly licks up the seam of her pussy.

“Frankie!” She cries out, steadying herself against the tiles as her legs buckle unexpectedly. 

“I got you,” he says, smirking up at her, his hands firmly holding her backside and thighs and keeping her upright. 

She watches as his tongue slides against her, slipping into her folds and seeking out her clit. She groans when he latches onto it, sucking it between his lips as his hands slide around the front of her thighs and he pries her open with adept, soapy fingers. 

Jude reaches down, gripping onto his shoulder, cradling his head closer as Frankie laps at her pussy like a man completely starved.

The water trickles down her stomach into his mouth from the stream above them. With each breath, Jude feels the tension building within her, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap.

It's a sensation that courses through her veins, igniting a fire within her core that threatens to consume her. She can feel her heart racing, a steady drumbeat of anticipation that echoes in her ears as Frankie hums out in satisfaction, his skilled tongue rubbing around her clit deliciously.

“Yes, don’t stop…” Jude whines, tugging on his soaked hair, spirals of dark curls knotting around her knuckles.

He growls with the tension on his scalp, his fingers sliding up inside her as he laps at the succulent slit leaking sweetly onto his tongue as she builds. 

And then, suddenly, it happens - a release of pent-up energy that surges through her with breathtaking intensity.

It's as if a dam has burst, flooding her senses with a rush of raw, dizzy emotion that leaves her trembling in its wake.

“Fuck! Frankie!” She cries out, tears welling behind her eyes.

As she closes her eyes and leans back against the cool tiles, she can feel the tension melting away from her body, replaced by a deep and abiding sense of relaxation.

It's as though every muscle in her body has finally surrendered to the gentle rhythm of the moment, a moment where it's her and Frankie and they’re safe and warm and loving on one another, allowing her to sink deeper into the embrace of tranquillity.

He stands up and kisses her with an intensity that makes her unsteady on her feet. She can taste herself on his lips and sucks at them with a feverish want. 

“Jude,” he whines, closing his eyes as he feels her reach for his cock, hard and aching for her.

Frankie bites down on his lip as he watches her massaging it around the suds, squelching it through her fingers. 

He breathes out against her pores as she pumps him slowly. She feels his fingers grip tighter around her ass cheeks.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” Frankie husks. “Ever.”

She smiles and kisses him, working his swelling cock inside of her grip.

“I need you.” Jude moans, pulling him tighter to her.

He picks her up and pushes her against the tiles as she wraps her legs around him, crying out as he sinks his cock inside of her.

He gasps out loudly as he connects with her again, sliding in and out slowly as she kisses his shoulder, his neck over the rippled burn scars, lips searching for his again, finding her home within him. 

Home.

A word that has been tossed around so much today, carelessly that it loses all pronunciation on the tongue. A word that has felt so out of reach for so long.

Home, a place that used to exist in another world but now only exists right here, in this moment. 

Home isn’t a place anymore. They have no homes to go to, not really. It isn’t the safety of bricks and mortar, and sturdy foundations rooted in the ground. It’s not an apartment full of useless bric-or-brac. Four walls and a roof that occasionally leaks.

No, home is Frankie. Here in his arms. Home is Jude. Here in her arms. 

Their fingers intertwine and their gazes lock in a panting exchange. Frankie feels something shift within him.

It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a truth that has always been there, hidden in the depths of his heart. He looks at Jude, really looks at her, and sees not just the person that has been beside him, fighting with him all this time, but the very essence of home itself.

In her eyes, he finds a warmth that seeps into his bones, melting away the coldness that has plagued him for so long. In her smile, he finds a comfort that soothes his weary soul, reassuring him that everything will be okay.

“I love you, Frankie,” she gasps, tears in her eyes. “God, you feel amazing.” Jude whispers as he pants in her face, the hot mists from the shower steaming and swirling around them like gossamer ghosts bearing witness to their devout hunger. 

“I love you… fuck! Jude, oh fuck, Jude!” Frankie grunts, as he fucks harder and deeper against the tiles of the shower before exploding deep inside of her with a loud, breathy groan as he gives her everything he has.

Finally, they’re home. 

To be continued...

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Enhypen…

When they see you after you being apart for a long time

Heeseung

Heeseung would envelope you in the most tightest. Not the kind where you’re gripping each other real tight but the kind of hug where you just feel so secure. Like not even the strongest wind could knock you out of his embrace

He’d kiss your forehead and just hold you for a solid few minutes as you just bathe in each other’s presence mumbling small I missed you’s and I love you’s into your ears as you inhale his scent. It’s such a healing moment and any pain, exhaustion or stress you had weighing on you didn’t seem to matter anymore because all that mattered was that you two were together

Jay

Jay would be counting down the days to being able to see you again. You two probably have one of those countdown’s on your lock screen or something. The moment you open the door for him when he knocks, you nearly tackle him over as he drops everything in his hands to hug you

Once you let go of each other, you walk in your door hand in hand. He sets his stuff down and you both immediately snuggle up on the couch maybe with a cup of wine or some tea. You rest your head on his chest as he tells you all about what him and the members have been up to and some of the exciting things they have coming up. You eventually turn on the TV and pop in some cheesy rom-com that you both love. There hasn’t been a more perfect moment. The two of you cozied up on your couch, he runs his hand through your hair as you listen to his heartbeat. Needless to say your both asleep in each others arms long before the movie ends.

Jake

Jake is all giddy. No one within his close circle doesn’t know you’re coming. He probably sits and tells Layla all about how excited he is to see you and all the things you’ll do when he goes to visit his parents. When you finally do arrive he runs up and bear hugs you with the brightest smile on his face. Like his cheeks are probably aching with how hard he’s smiling. As you walk to the car hand in hand, he drives you back with his hand not leaving yours once on the drive home and he doesn’t waste a single second in pulling you into his room and trapping you in a hug on his bed. He’s waited so long to hold you and now that he has the chance, he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

He’ll tell you about all the stuff he wants to do with you; the cafes he wants to visit, the late night walks with Layla, the places in Seoul he can’t wait to take you to. He’ll promise to take you to the HYBE building and show you around (maybe they’ll let you watch practice ;)). If you show more excitement to see another artist he may teasingly say that you can’t go anymore and he’ll be pouty and never leave your side if you guys actually go. The time you spend with Jake you’ll probably end up sleeping better than you ever have wrapped up in his arms

Sunghoon

Sunghoon may not immediately show it on his face, but he is so excited to see you. When he finally sees your face and sees you running towards him he’ll break out into the prettiest smile and immediately open his arms for you to run into. He’s probably trying to play it cool but in reality he’s trying not to combust from how happy he is. His giddiness immediately gets exposed the second he brings you around the members. ‘Hoon literally won’t shut up about you’ ‘y/n comes in a week, y/n comes in 4 days, y/n comes tomorrow, I see y/n in a coupon hours’ ‘I saw him kicking his feet and giggling when you guys texted last night’. Like they won’t let this poor man live.

When you guys get to be alone there may not be many words exchanged at first but you guys are just going about your business being more than content to be in each other’s presence. Whether he’s playing games, you’re doing your skincare, on your phones, cuddling in bed. Whatever y’all are doing there’s always a permanent smile on your face. But before you fall asleep you probably tease him a bit about how much the boys said he missed you just to seem him get all flustered.

Sunoo

You and Sunoo would FaceTime almost everyday when you were apart. You would be spilling tea, giving eachother updates on whatever has been going on (because he knows alllll of your friends and all of the gossip in your life), doing skincare together, or just exchanging quick words to each other to help cheer the other up.

When you finally are together again you immediately take over the bathroom for the most extensive home spa routine to ever exist. No one is interrupting and by the time you’re done, you’re going through your camera roll looking at all the goofy pics you took with your matching face masks and pajamas on and giggling to each other picking the perfect one that you can post on your story without showing his face. You guys put on the drama you agreed to watch together and spill any recent drama you’ve had yet to tell each other. Needless to say the entire evening is filled with soft giggles and sweet smiles shared between the two of you from the comfort of each others embrace in Sunoo’s room.

Jungwon

You know Jungwon is busy and he knows that you are as well so when you finally have the time to spend an evening at his place you had your bag packed a week in advance and made sure no one would get in the way. He gave you the code so you came to the dorm a bit early to surprise him when he got out of his schedule for that day. The second he walked through the door to see you in the living room his tense shoulders immediately relaxed and before you could even sit up to greet him he was laying on top of you. I’m not talking but ‘tackled into a hug on the couch’ type of thing, I’m talking the ‘there’s his body laying on top of you like a sack of potatos’ and he is not getting up.

When you finally do get him up you head of his room. After you convince him that you will in fact still be there when he’s done showering, he goes to wash up before catapulting himself into bed to lay on top of you again. You spend the next 30 minutes to an hour with his head on your chest combing your fingers through his hair as you exchange words about all the things you’ve been up to as you both slowly fade into unconsciousness holding each other. The next morning he will not let you go and you may have to get 2 of the members to pry him away from you when you have to go back home but it’s ok because you know that it won’t be long until you’ll be in each others arms again.

Ni-ki

Your texts with Riki mostly consist of daily updates and horrible memes exchanged between the two of you with some play fighting added to the mix. Even when you’re ‘arguing’ with each other he knows how to make you laugh and that does not change when you finally get to see him face to face again. He would probably pretend to not see you if you’re a lot smaller than he but when you start to get annoyed he pulls you into a hug and apologizes through his giggles.

The majority of the time you spend with each other consists of you two giggling over things you find on Twitter, taking silly goofy pictures of each other that you beg him to post on Weverse, him teasing you, you punching him for teasing you, him apologizing while laughing and the cycle repeats. By the time it gets to 1am you have settled in his room and he’s telling you goofy stories of things the members have done recently and you’re telling him about the things you’ve been up to recently with your friends (who he totally 100% remembers the names of) until the conversation fades as your breathing steadies and you both fall asleep with smiles on your faces. The rest of the time you’re staying with him consists of similar routines with maybe a late night run to the convenience store or some video games where Riki promises he’ll play fair but we all know he won’t with the biggest smile on his face.

#enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha sunoo #enha scenarios #enha heeseung #enha jungwon #enha jake #enha jay #enha sunghoon #enha niki #enha reactions #enha headcanons #enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki

[shinjisdone]

Could you please make a scenario where the reader is being spied on by the rest of the ban and thorfinn deals with them real well🙏 I can feel his rage through my screen

I take it that the reader in this case is seen as female and the bandmates are reacting to it in a perverted way as they are/were depicted in their peak time as vikings.

TW: bandmates spying on female!reader while she bathes, hints at sexual harrassment and SA, not done at all but Thorfinn thinks about and decides to protect you from it, mentions of pervesity, Thorfinn pondering about killing them/committing violence, fuming Thorfinn

Such men pride themselves in being "warriors" but you and Thorfinn both knew this couldn't be further from the truth. They cackle and sneer at whatever they hold power against in the most vile way. In and out of battle they search for a kick, for something to make them feel powerful. So with grins so big it could crack their face, they shadow after you two as you look deeper within the forest for a lake.

Thorfinn had long sensed the group and would often throw glares over his shoulder as he made sure you walked in front of him.

He had long learned to get keen hearing for both on the battlefield and for situations like this. The both of you tried to make such trips short and discreet but some were insistent to tag along.

The blonde cannot afford to really break their bones and cut off a few fingers as they deserve since they are still Askeladd's manpower. It would be so easy to get rid of them for how predictable they are but Thorfinn has to deal with this in different ways.

You've long adjusted to put your trust in the young man. He has proven himself to be a friend even if it's only to you. So you say nothing and do as you always do as you step into the lake.

The corner is well hidden behind bushes and Thorfinn awaits the men's arrival. You've long undressed and began to clean yourself and as the bandmates eagerly hide, they are just met with Thorfinn's glare and him spreading his body wide, shielding you as best as you could.

The blonde is small but with the bushes and you hunching, not an inch of you could be seen. The men grumble in disappointment again as the blonde protects you, unnecessarily in their opinion, but still wish to not be spotted. You are quick to finish your routine, having thrown your belongings over Thorfinn's shoulder as he kept on guarding you, broad and unmoving like a boulder. The bandmates jokingly call him a scarecrow in these situations.

They also joke how lucky the young man must be to be so close to a woman's beauty. All he'd have to do is just peek over his shoulder to indulge in it while they have to hide over hills to even get a slim chance of finding the both of you.

Killing the men off would end up being a bigger hassle since the leader would have to find replacements. And anyone willing to become a viking is also someone who'd spy on you without a second thought anyway, so what is the point?

What they do not understand is that Thorfinn is anything but delighted. He silently fumes and has to press down his anger again and again only because they are Askeladd's men. How dare they? How can they call themselves warriors? Don't they understand how you feel? This isn't a 'priviledge', it is protecting you. Thorfinn would never think of betraying your trust by even having his sight go anywhere near you, even if he has feelings for you. He stands there not to indulge but his back is your shield, a brief safe space of anything that dares to threaten you. He will stand there until you are done and dressed, and even then will Thorfinn keep an eye on any bandmates. He won't even look at you, hours after your bath, dried and dressed, until you initiate any contact and tell him it's okay.

His priority is keeping you safe and having you feel safe. It doesn't matter if you were not hurt, if you feel violated in any way, then Thorfinn did not protect you. If you feel scared and uncomfortable, then Thorfinn did not an good enough job protecting you. Whatever needs to be done, he will do even if it means shielding you out of sight, including his own.

If, however, they were local perverts, Thorfinn would have no problem striking them down. He does not think of how vile they might be but is making sure any kind of danger for you is eliminated. He can't let that happen. In cases like that he is quick to deal with them but if somehow, harrassment has been going on for long, he wouldn't be able to contain his anger. How dare they talk about you that way? How dare they?

If he feels platonic towards you, he tends to silently fume in general. He doesn't want to cause more trouble than needed and prefers to just take care of the problem. If he can kill them, he will do so to stop whatever was going on and to have it serve as a warning to others in the future. He doesnt care if he has to call you 'his woman', he will make it clear as they that you are not to be messed with.

If he has romantic feelings, Thorfinn tends to freak out verbally. The acts of violence and warnings are the same but he will curse and scream a lot more. Don't they dare go anywhere near you! Or even speak your name! Any look thrown at you will be met with a glare of his!

For the case of the bandmates, he will end up holding a grudge against those who would attempt to spy on you. Doesn't matter how often and how long.

#request #vinland saga #vinland saga Thorfinn #thorfinn imagine #thorfinn x reader #thorfinn karlsefni x reader #thorfinn karlsefni

[silverofthunder]

☆ speranza ☆

Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) x Female Reader

summary: ”I think I can see us being happy. Finding it along the way.”

content: 1.1k words, history au, arranged marriage, tiny bit of angst, hope of romance, SFW

Well, as I'm a bit stuck with my Dracopia series I decided to write something else. I'm not really into history but I love movies like Pride and Prejudice so I had to write this little piece. Hope you like this! 😊

"You look beautiful, my princess," your mother said, smiling warmly at you. You let out a short hum, taking a look at the mirror. You were wearing your finest dress – it was lovely but it felt so tight that you felt you couldn't breathe properly. Or maybe it was due to the fact that soon you would marry a man who you really didn't know, let alone love. It was bound to happen at some point but still there had been a tiny part within you that had hoped you didn't have to go through arranged marriage. It felt suffocating to get bound to someone that was basically a stranger. "My dearest..." your mother's voice shook you out of your thoughts and you looked at her. "You will learn to love him like I did with your father." You tried to smile at your mother but it probably wasn't that convincing as your mother took a hold of your hand and squeezed it. "Prince Terzo is a good man. Kind and well-mannered, highly respected and strong-willed. He will treat you right, we know that." "I hope so," you said and your mother gave you a stern look. She knew you had doubts but didn't appreciate that you voiced them. There was nothing that could be done to change things. You just had to accept your fate. Sighing, you moved your gaze back to the mirror and your reflection. You forced a smile on your lips and years of practice made it look near perfect, almost genuine. "That’s more like it," your mother spoke softly, bringing your hand to her lips and kissing your knuckles.

You and the Prince Terzo, who was your husband now, were taking a brief walk in the palace gardens. The summer day was beautiful, sun shining bright above you, and you had to admire the flower sea around you. Your life had changed due to marriage but it had been smoother transition as you had expected it to be. Fortunately, Terzo understood and even shared your thoughs of arranged marriage – neither of you were happy about it but you had promised to try. It had been a few weeks since you had moved to another kingdom, the one that was ruled by Terzo's older brother, Secondo. Their father had passed away due to severe illness as well as their older brother Primo, so Secondo had had to take the weight of the crown some years prior. "There seems to be a lot of thoughts occupying your mind." There was a hint of amusement in Terzo's voice and you turned your head to look at him with a small smile on your lips. "I do," you stated. Terzo looked at your curious, his mismatched eyes bright. It was a strange thing – the eyes being a different color but you found it to be a lovely detail. "Is there a chance I can hear about some of them?" Terzo's curiosity was welcomed. You had expected him to be uninterested about you, only wanting you to fulfill your duties as a wife but it was far from truth. He seemed genuinely to want to get to know you and it made you feel more appreciated. That you were more than just a woman who had to look pretty beside him and eventually bear his child. "Maybe," you answered, grinning slightly and Terzo shook his head and moved in front of you, stopping both of you in the middle of the path. He took a hold of your hand, leaning down and placing a light kiss on the back of it. Heat rushed to your cheeks even though the gesture wasn't new to you. But it felt somehow sweeter now. "Such a mysterious lady you are, my dear," Terzo said smiling. "I thought this marriage would only make us both miserable, like we would be birds trapped in a cage, but seems like it might not be the case." It was quite an optimistic view, considering you didn't really knew each other well, yet, but so far things had been good. And you wanted to believe that they would stay that way. "I'm also glad we seem to have same kind of view regarding this marriage." Silence fell between you after that and Terzo used it to pull you close to him, the heat now starting to tingle your cheeks. The way he was looking at you, was making your heart hammer in your chest and butterflies flutter in your stomach and the proximity felt nice, comfortable. "You are so beautiful," Terzo said quietly and you couldn't help the light chuckle that escaped from you. "Oh, stop it." Terzo's other brow quirked up. "But I'm only telling the truth. The first time I laid my eyes on you, I swear I forgot to breathe for a moment." "This," you said, motioning to your whole appearance, "will fade and change during the years." "I know. That's why what's in the heart matters the most in the end." You tilted your head, curious. "You really seek that? The deeper connection?" you had to ask. "Sí," Terzo answered, now lifting his hand up to cup your cheek and gently caress it with his thumb. "Always hoped that I could find that. I don't want anything hollow or meaningless, I've seen enough of that." Terzo's words warmed your heart and you couldn’t help but smile. It sounded too good to be true but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. You were now bound to Terzo and you had to do your part, fulfill your duties but if you could trust to Terzo’s words, there could be something else, too. Maybe something more meaningful, true in the future.

”Do you believe that we can find happiness in a situation like this?”

Terzo didn’t answer straight away, he focused on looking at you, probably thinking his next words. Slowly he started to run his fingers along the shape of your face, his touch light. You shivered, your cheeks burning as his fingers swiped over your lips. Terzo breathed in deep and you mimicked that, releasing the air right after.

”Can I kiss you?” Terzo asked, his voice sounding velvety. Your heart jolted and you moved your hand to take a hold of Terzo’s arm.

”Yes,” you whispered and then Terzo was leaning in, pressing his lips softly against yours. It wasn’t your first kiss but it surely felt like one. Sweet and short, leaving this tiny pleasant warmth lingering in your body afterwards. You squeezed Terzo’s arm, smiling at him in awe when your gazes met again.

”I think I can see it,” he said, the look in his eyes catching a certain kind of seriousness. ”Us, being happy. Finding it along the way.”

No matter if it sounded optimistic, you took it. Right now it was just enough.

#terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

[koolades-world]

Hi!! Hope you're having a good day! May I ask for levi with some sort of anime girl type hoodie and reader asking him to get rid of it because their jealous?

hello! of course :)

enjoy!

Me? Jealous?

Levi was looking forward to his gaming session with you that evening. You'd been seemingly very busy the past week, so he hadn't gotten a chance to snag your sole attention at all. He hated having to vie for your affections during the day with his brothers, so instead he sent you a text to ask if you were up to play games. He was overjoyed when you said yes.

Right after dinner, he set off to his room to tidy up. After throwing away the several empty energy drink cans and chip bags, and wiping every controller down, he let you know he was ready when you were. You showed up to his room soon enough with a smile on your face.

"Levi!" You peaked in through the crack in the door he'd made to check who'd knocked. He fully opened the door and promptly shut it behind you.

"Hey Mc." He found himself grow increasingly nervous as you threw your arms around him. You'd known each other for so long now, yet every time he turned to putty under your touch.

"You have any games in mind?" After they backed up, he noticed your expression fall a little, causing him to panic. What had he done? Maybe you'd finally realized you'd rather hang out with Mammon or Asmo. They were much more fun anyways.

"Yes... no! I meant no." He stumbled over his words after remembered he had to speak.

"If you had something in mind, let's do that. You're the expert after all." You grabbed his arm and dragged him towards his gaming setup. Eventually, after some coaxing from you, he showed you what he wanted to do with you, so that's what you spend your evening doing. A few times during the evening, he thought he saw you give him some side glances, but he brushed it off because you seemed happy enough.

Once you’d done what he wanted, and you were both growing tired of that particular activity, Levi suggested rewatching a favorite anime of yours. After he put it on, he only got halfway through the first episode before letting his thoughts run rampant again. He was certain they were giving him side glares now. The anxiety of the situation began to eat away at him, crippling any confidence he had. After he caught you full on staring at him, he knew he had to say something.

“Mc?” He turned his head to meet your gaze.

“Hmm?” You seemed as if you’d just woken up from a stupor of some kind.

“Are you… alright?” He held his breath waiting for your response.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” They shifted their body towards him. Silence filled the room. He has no clue where to go from there. He didn’t think he’d get that far to be honest.

He could only muster up a small “Alright.” Way to go genius! What a smart way to answer a question. But, he just couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again for anything that wasn’t sad, deflated balloon-esque noises. The pair stared at each other now, neither speaking. Eventually, you finally said something.

"I'm sorry. It's just be being dumb." You looked away from him, sneaking glances. He remained silent. You sighed, and continued despite seeming to not want to. "It's just... your hoodie." He looked down suddenly at what he was wearing. It was just some generic anime girl on a hoodie. It had been a gift from Mammon, and when he says he scoured the internet for he, he found nothing. She wasn't a real character and while he didn't actually know where he got it from, he had his guesses.

"What?" Was all he could muster. He felt like he looked incredibly stupid, kind of like a fish with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"She's not a character I've seen in your room before." Levi could sense there was more you wanted to say, but kept dancing around the topic. As he thought more about your words and the expression on your face, the lightbulb above his head finally lit up.

"OH." With that realization, he began to panic and immediately tried to take off the hoodie, only to remember he wasn't actually wearing anything underneath. He quickly pulled it back down and decided to turn his back to you instead.

"Levi! You don't have to take it off, you know." You put your hand on his shoulder.

"If you're jealous, then I need to. I know what that feels like. It's not a good feeling. You shouldn't have to feel that if you don't need to." The words that came out of his mouth were more poetic than usual. For a second, you were unsure on how to respond.

"Thanks. You're really sweet. Now, do you want me to get out while you change?" You began to giggle as his face turned beet red. He quickly ushered you out of the room, causing you to laugh more, but as soon as you were out of the room, you dwelled on the warm, fuzzy feelings Levi gave you. You were so lucky to have him in your life.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me levi #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me levi fluff #levi obey me #levi obey me fluff #obey me levi x reader

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, and Themes of Disability, Mental Illness, and Criminality.

Back Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy on kickstarter before May 10th if you want to help a disabled person with limited ability to work pay his bills.

Verisimilitude, What Would a Person Do?

To understand Eureka’s themes regarding disability, mental illness, and criminality, you first have to understand its verisimilitude.

“Verisimilitude” is defined as “the appearance of being true or real,” and it is a big part of the core design ethos behind Eureka. It is a very realistic game.

We aren’t necessarily of the opinion that “realism” is a better design choice than stylization overall for RPGs, but it is a better design choice for Eureka, because we want the PCs to be very normal, believable people who make believable, organic decisions in extraordinary situations. No matter what anyone says, the mechanics of a TTRPG strongly influence what kind of stories are told with it, and what characters do in those stories. So if we want characters to make realistic decisions, the world they inhabit and interact with must be constructed of realistic rules.

Even though there is a small chance that they may be a supernatural creature, PCs in Eureka are still not fearless action heroes, chosen ones, or anything of the sort. They’re normal people with jobs, friends, and families who get mixed up in mysterious and/or dangerous situations, often against their will. They are fragile, vulnerable, imperfect, and they, largely, know it.

“Composure” is a mechanic that helps you know it too. I’ve given a deeper explanation of the Composure mechanic in the post linked here, but I’ll give a very very very condensed version in this post. Composure can sort of be thought of as “emotional/fatigue HP,” (and no, it is NOT “sanity”) it acts as a guideline for how well your character is handling the situation, and when it gets low enough, it starts to have serious mechanical effects as well, because a character’s stat modifier can never be higher than their current Composure level. Fear, hunger, and fatigue all lower Composure, and eating, sleeping, and bonding with one’s fellow investigators can all restore it, at least for normal people. More on that further down. All you really need to know for now is that when Composure gets below zero it starts eating into HP, so characters can even pass out or die from loss of Composure, and also one single bullet is enough to permanently cripple a character, and the rate of Composure loss during combat reflects how serious that is for the characters.

Grievous Wounds

It isn’t too uncommon for RPGs to have some sort of “flaw” system, whereby in character creation you can give your PC “flaws” or some kind of penalty, and usually get that balanced out by being able to add extra bonuses elsewhere, and these “flaws” may take the form of disabilities.

Critical Role’s Candela Obscura, the whole document of which is one of the most egregious examples of liberalism and toxic positivity I’ve ever seen in the TTRPG space, takes this beyond just character creation, and makes it so that if a PC receives a “scar” in combat that reduces their physical stats, their mental stats automatically go up by an equivalent amount, and proudly asserts that to make any mechanic which functions otherwise is ableist. I think you can probably tell what I think of that from this sentence alone and I don’t need to elaborate. Getting bogged down in all the failures, mechanical and moral, of Candela Obscura would make this post three times as long.

I actually do think that as long as you aren’t moralizing and patting yourself on the back this hard about it, “flaw” systems in character creation are a pretty good idea in most cases, it allows for more varied options during character creation, while preserving game balance between the PCs.

But in real life, people aren’t balanced. The events that left me injured and disabled didn’t make me smarter or better at anything—if anything, they probably made me stupider, considering the severity of the concussion! Some things happened to me, and now I’m worse. There’s no upside, I just have to keep going by trying harder with a less efficient body, and rely more on others in situations where I am no longer capable of perfect self-sufficiency.

Denying that a disabled person is, by definition, less capable of doing important tasks than the average person is to deny that they need help, and to deny that they need help is to enable a refusal to help.

This is the perspective from which Eureka’s Grievous Wounds mechanic was written.

When a character is reduced to 1 HP, which by design can result from a single hit from most weapons, they may become incapacitated, or they may take a Grievous Wound, which is a permanent injury with no stat benefits. Think twice before getting into a shootout.

Grievous Wounds don’t have to result from combat, they can also be given to a character during character creation, but not as a trade-off for an extra bonus.

“But then doesn’t my character just have worse stats than the rest of the party?” Yes, didn’t you read the above section? There is no benefit, except for the opportunity to play a disabled character in an TTRPG, and this character will probably have to be more reliant on the rest of the party to get by in various situations. Is that a bad thing?

Monsters

Just like mundane people in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, monsters are playable, because they are regular people. I’ve gone over this in other posts and also you can just read about it in Chapter 8 of the Eureka rulebook, but the setting of Eureka doesn’t have a conspiracy or “masquerade” hiding or separating supernatural people from normal society. They exist within normal society, and a lot of them eat people.

Most RPGs consider monsters to just be evil, they do evil for evil’s sake. RPGs that seek to subvert this expectation often instead make monsters misunderstood and wrongfully persecuted, but harmless. Eureka takes a wholly different approach.

There are five playable types of monsters in the rulebook right now, and it’ll be seven if we hit all the stretch goals, but for simplicity’s sake this post will just focus on the vampire. Despite them applying in different ways, the same overall themes apply to nearly every monster, so if you get the themes for the vampire, you’ll get the gist of what Eureka is doing with monsters in general.

I mentioned Composure above, and how it can normally be restored by eating food and sleeping. Well, vampires can not restore their Composure this way. They don’t sleep, and normal people food might be tasty as long as it isn’t too heavily seasoned for them, but it doesn’t do anything for them nutritionally. Their main way to restore Composure is fresh living human blood, straight from the source. To do what mundane PCs do normally by just eating and sleeping, vampires have to take from another, whether they’re happy with this arrangement or not. They do not, of course, literally have to, and a player is not forced to make their vampire PC drink blood, just like you don’t literally have to eat food, but they do and you do if you want to live in any degree of comfort or happiness, or else they’d eventually just sit at 0 Composure and not be able to effectively do anything.

There’s a reason that this is a numerical mechanic and not simply a rule that says something like “this character is a vampire and therefore they must drink blood once every session,” and that is to emphasize and demonstrate that the circumstances a person faces drive their behavior. In America, there is a tendency to think of criminality and harmfulness as resulting from something of an intrinsic evil, but in my experience and observation, people do not just wake up at like age 16 and decide “I think I’ll go down the criminal life path.” Through their life circumstances they have been barred from the opportunities that would have given them other options. People need food, food costs money, money requires work, work requires getting hired, but getting hired requires a nearby job opening, an education, an impressive resume, nice clean clothes, a charismatic attitude, consistent transportation, and so on. For people without, criminality is something they are funneled into, which becomes harder to avoid the longer they go without consistent access to their basic needs. The choice will be between taking money from others by force or trickery, or running completely out of money.

As the Composure counter ticks down, a vampire, or other playable monster, is going to encounter much the same dilemma. There is little to no “legal” or “harmless” way for them to get their needs met, even if they do have some money. Society just isn’t set up for that. And no your kink is not the solution to this, trying to suggest every vampire get into sex work is like one step removed from telling every girl she should just get an OnlyFans the minute she turns 18, or that women should just marry a man and be a housewife that gets taken care of if they want their needs met.

Playable monsters in Eureka are dangerous, harmful people. They were set up to be.

“Oh well then the vampire should just eat bad people!” You mean those same bad people i just described above? See this post for answers to all the other arguments people are going to make to try and absolve vampires of causing harm.

Society not being set up for that brings me to next reading/theme: Monstrousness as disability, and monsters as takers.

Mundane human characters restore 2 points of Composure per day just by eating food and sleeping, but vampires do not, they can’t. To restore their Composure they have to take from others a valuable resource that everyone needs to live and the extraction of which is excruciatingly painful and debilitating (blood). No one knows what happens to blood after a vampire drinks it, it’s just gone. Vampires are open wounds through which blood pours out of the universe.

This is a special need, something they have to take but cannot give back. Their special needs make them literally a drain on society and the world.

Even in so-called “progressive” spaces, there is a tendency to consider takers, people who take much more than they give back, such as disabled people, as something that needs to be pruned, with the mask over this being the aforementioned total denial of the fact that disabled people take more than they can give.

In this way, vampires and other playable monsters are, inarguably, “takers,” but in positioning them as protagonists right beside mundane protagonists, Eureka puts you in their shoes, and forces you to at least reckon with the circumstances that make them this way, as well as acknowledge their inner lives. You have to acknowledge two things: That they are dangerous, harmful people who take more than they can give, and that they are people. Because they are people, Eureka asserts that they have inherent value, a right to exist, and a right to do what they need to do to exist.

One final point is that of monstrousness as mental illness. Mental illness is a disability, one pretty comparable to physical disability in a lot of ways, so all of the above about disability can apply to this metaphor as well, but there are a few unique comparisons to make here.

It’s not the most efficient, but there are a couple of loopholes deliberately left in the rules that allow vampires to restore Composure without drinking blood. Eureka! moments can restore Composure, and Comfort checks from fellow investigators can restore Composure.

When I was writing the rules for how monsters regain Composure in accordance to these themes, I came to a dilemma where I wasn’t sure if it was thematically appropriate for them to be able to regain Composure in these ways, but ultimately I decided that yes, they can. It works with themes of mental illness, which is mental disability.

People with mental illnesses may have the potential to be harmful and dangerous, but study after study, including my own observation, has shown that mentally ill people with robust support structures and agency allowed to them to handle tasks are much less likely to enact harm, be that physical violence, relational violence, or violence against the self. So that’s why I kept that rule in for playable monsters. Being able to accomplish goals, and having friends who are there for them, makes the harmful person less likely to cause unnecessary harm.

I couldn’t really figure out where to fit this paragraph in so I’m sticking it here right before the conclusion: Vampires are especially great for this because they’re immortal, and because they always come back when “killed.” They can’t be exterminated, they aren’t going away, there will always be problem people in society, no matter how utopian or “progressive.” They’re a never-ending curse, who will always be a problem. The question is how you will handle them, not how you will get rid of them.

In conclusion,

Eureka is as much a study of the characters themselves as it is the mystery being solved by the characters. It is a harsh, but compassionate game, that argues through its own gameplay that yes, people do have needs which drive their behavior, many people do have special needs that are beyond their ability to reciprocate, and failure to meet the needs of even a small number of people in a society has high potential to harm the entire society, not just those individuals whose needs are unmet.

And Candela Obscura sucks.

Back Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy on kickstarter before May 10th if you want to help a disabled person with limited ability to work pay his bills.

If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

#disability #disability rights #disabled #leftism #critical role #candela obscura #eureka #eureka: investigative urban fantasy #ttrpg #rpg #roleplaying #tabletop #monsters #accesibility #blindness #autism spectrum disorder #autism awareness #autism acceptance #neurodivergent #adhd #ttrpgs #ttrpg community #ttrpg tumblr #indie ttrpg #dnd 5e #d&d 5e #vampirism #vampire #progressivism #lgbt art

[dufferpuffer]

What do you think lupin needs in a romantic partner to have a functioning/healthy relationship (as healthy as this man can manage atleast)? What qualities would this person have to have to be able to deal with all the more challenging aspects of being in a relationship with him? But also what does he want in a partner? And what would he absolutely not want?

Me. I am perfect. Remus Lupin hmu

Remus Romantic Partner pt1: Remus is needy Link to pt2: Remus is good (aint done it yet sorry)

In short: Remus Lupin needs an ANCHOR POINT to harbor his ship. 1. Someone interesting he can pour his attention into. 2. Generally up-beat/optimistic, so he has warmth to lean on. 3. Bold enough to be themselves - even if they're different. 4. Kind and accepting of other people 5. A little 'cute'. 'Quirky'. Small 'issues' support. (just a bonus, really) 6. Independent. Can live without him just fine but still want him. 7. Emotionally strong. Immense maturity and stability. 8. Doesn't have much temper, doesn't start drama or fights. Of course he doesn't need ALL of these boxes ticked - but the highlighted ones are the closest to a MUST for the relationship to even have a chance at being healthy. In long: Explanations (and example characters who I think fit) are below. B^)

Remus is an introverted man. He isn't shy (he can take charge of a room, he can speak publicly, he is good at getting people to like him) but when he isn't the focus he is a wall-flower. He doesn't talk much unless he has something to say. He is deeply, irreparably self-conscious. He has trauma of unintentionally hurting those he loves, so he keeps his distance.

((His parents became sick with the stress of having to move house every few months, find new work every few months, keeping their bank account drained... socially isolated with a son they had to lock away every Full Moon - lest he killed them. They loved him but that was a difficult thing for Remus to grow up witnessing, knowing he was the cause. Knowing him leaving for Hogwarts was the best thing to happen for their health since he was bitten... Of course he pushes people away. He can't help being sick - but he can help them not suffer... if he stays away.))

He is always thinking inwardly. He is always anxious. He wonders how he can make himself smaller, friendlier, less scary… Trying to plan how he wants others to relate to him. He tries to control how others think of him, to steer them away from the bad things... He is a wolf in wizards clothing. If he treats everyone as dolls to manipulate, and if they never know the real him... it will hurt everyone less when he leaves.

1. He needs someone who can bust him out of that toxic mindset. Someone that grabs his attention and pulls it away from himself. Someone interesting, skilled, passionate - living a life he can't achieve. Someone with knowledge or stories he can listen to at length and live a little through them... or they can even include him. More of a talker so he can be a listener, so he can focus on someone else's world - but they're also eager to hear whatever he has to say without prying. They aren't arrogant or loud: they can listen, too. Remus needs good, witty conversation over a cup of tea.

2. They need to be generally up-beat, but not in a way that'll crush his down-beat. They invite him to join in if he wants - or else lean on them like they're a heater for his troubled soul while he feels down. Sometimes he will feel bad, or flat, or tired - and they can't fix it.

I don't think he has any visual preferences. What he notices first about people are their mannerisms. He is always shaping himself to fit the room, so I think he admires people who act authentically: Boldness. Bravery. Honesty. Earnestness. Brashness. So... 3. He would be more attracted to people of subcultures and/or strong interests - or are simply out-of-the-expected-norm. I think he would be fascinated about these little nooks of belonging - alternate 'normal's' when the Wizarding world can be so rigid. (Do I think he has a preference for LGBTQIA+? Yeah. General androgyny too.)

4. Kind. Accepting. They need to be kind to others in general. Because he can't always be kind to others. He puts himself first and sometimes that hurts because he WANTS to be more kind. A partner who can pick up the slack? Who he can trust to always be kind and accepting of him - because they are such a way with everyone...? That's just a requirement, really.

5. A small thing I think he likes in particular: A cute factor. A little clumsy, A little slow, Enthusiastic, Awkward, Weak, A bit short/tall... something that isn't an issue but will pop up every now and then, distract him and make him go '...cute. That was cute.' Something he can effortlessly support. Something he can be thoughtful about, thinking of their needs rather than his own. - They struggle to read quickly? He can read out loud for them. - They tend to act impulsively? He can hold them back just enough to let them to give it a second thought. - They struggle in social situations? So he can talk on their behalf. - They keep fumbling and tripping over? He can keep them steady. It's nice to feel useful and kind in a simple, effortless way. Something so obvious to proves he isn't bad at heart - even when he feels awful.

6. They need to be Independent. What he CAN'T have is someone who NEEDS him. Oh god, the pressure… He cant be trapped. He requires a high level of independence... because he WILL FAIL. He WILL leave and break their heart over nothing. He WILL make promises he doesn't intend to keep - because he intends to run away and never look back. If they NEED him, just to stay afloat…? It will break him. He can't be the bread-winner, even if he could have a stable job. He can't be a long-term emotional support, only short-term. He needs to know that WHEN he breaks down and fucks off not 'if' - even if it's FOREVER… that they will be okay without him. 'Not being ok without him' won't make him stay. He will not 'shape up under a bit of pressure'. It will only injure him.

7. He needs someone strong enough to be forgiving. Not a self-harming, forcing yourself to forgive-and-forget either. That is a very real danger with Remus: If he got with someone who was as much a people-pleasing self-depreciator as him…? He will tear them to shreds. He is a toxic man and he requires tough gloves to handle:- Genuinely emotionally strong. Someone he can lean on, far more than they lean on him. - Wise enough to see through his bullshit manipulations and lies - with enough tact to navigate them, understanding he struggles without judgement but holding him gently accountable. - Empathetic enough to understand him even when he can't explain himself properly. - Mature enough to hold him accountable. Can help him understand how he can do better. He is filled with shame - sometimes for very good reasons that need addressing.

He will go through periods of being unable to be contacted, periods of self-endangerment… He needs somewhere, someone, he can crawl back to in shame. Who WILL talk with him seriously about things… but is willing to just let him sleep quietly for the night in their arms, for now. (Am I saying he needs to date a therapist? Yeah, basically. Dating Remus isn't easy.)

8. Doesn't start fights. Doesn't lash out. Doesn't live off of drama. Remus fits himself into situations passively - he doesn't need someone making situations more difficult to feel comfortable in. If they get angry and yell at him - he will yell one hurtful thing back and leave. He has a very limited ability withstand tension. He tries to keep a level head and a level room - he needs a partner who will support those efforts, or at least not sabotage them.

Partners I think have good chemistry, for examples:

NYMPHADORA TONKS. It is annoying how perfectly she has been made to fit Remus' needs, as she is so underutilized. I wouldn't find her as frustrating if she got more fleshing out in ways that weren't the specific things suited to being with Remus… ugh. - She is a skilled Auror, especially for her age. - She lightens the mood of any room by being playful. - She is unapologetic in being herself, accepting people with ease. - She is a bit clumsy - but capable and hugely independent. - Her ability to roll with the punches is insane: every time Remus is hot-and-cold she has both the ability to hold him responsible for how much it hurts and the strength to still stand there for him. - She is firey and doesn't back down, but she isn't trying to start fights. She's just stubborn and confident in what she has to say. To make claims like 'Remus only likes her because she can shapeshift' or whatever is just... no, its because she is perfect for him.

LUNA LOVEGOOD. Surprising, I know. Perhaps in different circumstances they could have hit it off. - Strong interests, a subculture at the edge of Wizarding society yet she is always 'uniquely' and brazenly herself. - Optimistic and up-beat... a little dreamy, air-headed, focus could use some steering sometimes. - Helpful and kind to all, even those that have been mean to her. - Very used to being alone. Independent in body and soul. Quite comfortable being alone - but friends are nice, too. - Emotional strength is a specialty of hers. Even in the worst situations she keeps her head on her shoulders and, despite how aloof she appears, is intelligent, sharp and serious. - Can make demands when she needs to - not a pushover. Bonus: An interest in magical creatures, too. :)

Close, but I think have a large flaw (that might makes them spicy):

SEVERUS SNAPE - Potions Master. Dark Arts specialist. Veteran teacher. All the steady employment and deep, fascinating interests Remus wishes he could have - along with ALSO having been a Spy... and being misunderstood. They have more in common than they don't. - He isn't optimistic, but he is a problem solver, dedicated to making things better than they are. He faces problems head on while Remus would rather curl away. - He understands feeling quiet and low. He might not be warm, but he is a softer place to rest than you'd expect. - He has never changed himself for anyone. He is stubbornly himself, even when it makes him seem like an outcast weirdo. - He has little patience. He isn't gentle or nice. But he cares enough to be kind, even to those he hates... and he is loyal. It isn't ideal for Remus but it gives him a place to fit himself: If Severus is cold, he is warm. If Severus has the quirk of being a snarky, prickly bastard - Remus is skilled at the opposite. - Independent. Accustomed to being alone. Expects to be alone. Being with someone who understands him... a little daunting, really. The main place I think Severus fails here is emotional strength. He is quick to anger and lashes out. He holds grudges. He starts shit and Remus can't handle shit. Severus needs someone who can temper those anger flares, or at least weather them - and Remus can do neither. But perhaps that is the place they can meet in the middle...?

LILY EVANS - Everyone liked her. Talented, bright and strong-willed, She was a popular girl. I think Remus liked her too, but... James and Severus. - She seems a bit cheeky, quick witted - she brightens a room when she walks in. - She was best friends with Severus for years. Maybe she had other friends in her dorm - but if they were as close to her as Severus was, they would have been HIS friends, too. She was willing to be with the outcast, even when popular. - I know it's a movie quote, but I think it still fits from Remus' POV when he says Lily was an 'uncommonly kind woman' and 'had a way of seeing the beauty in others when that person cannot see it themselves.' I think she accepted him fast and firmly. - She didn't need anyone else. She stood up to James by herself. She knew what she was worth. - She seems to prefer ending fights rather than starting them. She hates a bully. Lily doesn't have the 'grit' (for lack of a better word) to take toxicity. She hated James' bullying. She dropped Severus. She has patience and an 'I can help fix him' desire - but they need to put in the effort, too. James cleaned up his act somewhat and she liked that. Remus isn't going to fully succeed at 'fixing' himself. Not just by 'putting some effort in'. It is going to take so long, and be so slow... Severus would be far easier to 'I can help fix him' - and she couldn't handle him. !!!This isn't saying Lily is weak or something. It is incredibly HEALTHY to not being able to put up with toxic shit, to have the strength to say 'enough is enough'. That is a GOOD thing.!!!

A popular partner I DON'T think works out so easily:

SIRIUS BLACK Sirius Black is a dog. He needs people. He needs constant companionship - especially after Azkaban. He is a mess who needs support, company, loyalty... and Remus can't provide any of that with regularity! Waking up in an empty bed, in a cold room, after Remus timidly promised to 'always be there' for him but was lying... it would shatter Sirius. He doesn't have the strength or stability to lose anyone else. Sirius is honest and sticks to his guns even when times get tough. He would rather DIE than turn his back on a loved one. Remus lies unprovoked and runs away with his tail between his legs at the slightest sign of trouble. Sirius, as a traumatized man, is not going to be able to understand why Remus can just throw away everything he has to run off. How he could just leave him alone again...? Doesn't he love him?! At his worst: he is more likely to try and emotionally trap Remus with him, force him to stay - and that just isn't going to work. Remus is a Wolf. He can't be locked in. I don't even think Sirius at his best, pre-Azkaban, would fit well: - He is upbeat, but in a way that tries to break others out of their funks. It's abrasive for him to hang out with someone sad. ((I'm sure he could learn to do it but his instinct is to help.)) - He is kind - but he has a limit. When that limit is passed, his care is snapped. He holds grudges and he makes judgements. - He is not and has never been independent. He is strong-willed and confident about himself, yes - but he thrives when he is at another's side. He has always been like this Azkaban just made it worse. - He doesn't have what it takes to weather Remus' bullshit. That's not a bad thing either, he know how to cut toxic people from his life when they are too heavy - but post-Azkaban he is even more scared of losing people, which makes him vulnerable. - He starts shit. He jumps into arguments, he escalates, he enjoys the thrill and the drama of it. Remus wouldn't join in, even if he agrees with Sirius, and thus would leave him unsupported. We see this very thing happen in OotP

#love you remus #remus lupin #remus my beloved #hp #severus snape #sirius black #lily evans #headcannons #nymphadora tonks

[telekinetic-electronica]

bendy, "ink demon", and trauma responses

I've recently got back into Bendy. (tbh this shit is never gonna be going away this has been my special interest for 7 years FDKJNDSJKFD) and I did some thinking on him again. It's crazy to me on how... dehumanized Bendy was. While, yes, he's not an actual human, but he's still, y'know a person. He has feelings, he's conscious. He just doesn't have a soul. Which brings me to this post. The Ink Demon has never been called by Bendy. Which, you're all like "well, duh. That's his ink form. His other form is his toon form, just to tell which forms apart." I know that's possible the case. But I do wanna look into this attitude a bit more. When Bendy was first created, Joey literally called Bendy a THING, and for him to lock him away because he wasn't what he wanted. His literal crime was looking scary. So, Thomas Connor and Gent by the request of Joey, locked Bendy away for... God knows how long. Tbh, it's never clear on how Bendy ever acts, but Bendy was probably scared out of his mind. Can you imagine you're finally made and some people are talking. You have no idea what's going on, but this Joey dude says that you're wrong. You came out wrong. You are a mistake. You're suppose to be loveable, silent, and small. But you're not that. You're tall, empowering, posing, and not even a real chance to prove you're not as scary as you look. You aren't even called by your name, nor the title you would gain via your infamy. You are a thing. You are not someone who has emotions or needs, a thing. You are a monster. Now, you're locked away, probably terrified, and calling for help but people around you are too scared of you to help or don't wanna face the wrath of this Joey Drew.

I think Alice said this best back in Chapter 4 of the original game. At the studio, you were in someone's pocket, or someone was in yours. The studio was a disaster pit. Even if not everything happened was "real" or w/e, Joey was still a dickhead to everyone around him. Bendy was no exception. I think Bendy probably learned the best way to survive the studio, and the harsh reality around him was to manipulate. Bendy is a pretty good manipulator, he can get into someone's head, mess with them, and still taunt them. No one is born or created evil. That's a learned method.

In extreme cases of trauma, many people are in survival mode and thinking about themselves to survive, and how they can get by. This is because their safety, wants, and needs weren't being met. Not to mention, Joey and Gent just threw Bendy into the cartoon world, probably to just lock him away forever. Joey locked Bendy up for God knows how long, and now he's in this like- cartoon world version of the studio. He goes from nothing to everything in one fell swoop. This just made Bendy retreat more into himself. It just made his coping mechanism of always having to be on top, always being in control, the one everyone needs to fear. Because, fuck it.

If he's so horrible, if he's so monstrous, if he's so terrible, than he'll just become it. Minus when Bendy meets Audrey in his toon form, Bendy doesn't have anyone. Bendy has never been shown any warmth, kindness, or love in his entire life. The only thing he does know is pain, suffering, coldness, been abandoned, and been made out to be a monster. Which brings me to this - no one has every called the Ink Demon by his real name.

Even when he's technically no longer being locked away, and ruling the cartoon studio, he's still been dehumanized. Or never seen as a fellow victim of the machine and Joey. Everyone has said to BEWARE the Ink Demon, look out for him, and watch your back. The one rule down there was always beware the Ink Demon. Hell, Bendy calls himself the Ink Demon. Bendy has just embraced the title of being seen as this almighty, opposing figure. People either blindly worshipped him or feared him. They never saw him as someone who was unjustly hurt. Unjustly locked away and abandoned. Unjustly painted as a monster because he didn't turn out the way Joey wanted him to be.

You know who has called Bendy by his name? Someone, for the first time, called him by his real name and not some title?

Audrey.

Audrey is the first person to show Bendy any kindness or warmth. While, yes, it was in his toon form. He actually gets treated like a person. Someone who has emotions, and even APOLOGIZED when she, on accident, hurt him. And Hell, dude accepts it! I really hope, going forward, as a way for Bendy to heal when he's in his Ink Demon form, Audrey shows him the same compassion and kindness in that form of his. But she also calls him by his name. Bendy. Not to mention...

The cycles are interesting to me. It could possibly just being a plot thing. But it could be seen as a continuing of generational trauma and toxicity, and Audrey is the one who stops it. Joey clearly has some shit going on. He hates not being in control and wants to be in control of how other people perceive him. So, he turns out destructive towards everyone. Which is... eerily similar to how Bendy treats his own trauma. Bendy and Joey were physically and emotionally destructive to the people around them. It's also kind of sad because Bendy thinks he's in control of the studio. Dude says it's his domain, when Joey was still in control all along.

Bendy is continuing that toxic cycle. Then Wilson comes along and projects his own trauma, and issues. While the cycle stopped, Wilson didn't make it any better, and probably made the cycle for everyone in the studio just worse. By Audrey having the book now, she's putting a stop to the generational trauma via helping out everyone still trapped and helping Bendy out. That's why I've been calling Ink Demon, Bendy.

Because that's his name, after all.

ADD ON-; I just wanna say that Bendy was HARDCORE self projecting on Audrey near the end. I also wanna touch on Bendy and suffering. Bendy was so miserable, and had nobody he just gave into his own suffering, and became the Ink Demon. If he has to suffer, he's going to make everyone else in the studio suffer. He only found any purpose was in harming others. Also, obvious disclaimer this doesn't justify what he does to the people he has hurt. It explains it, doesn't justify it.

It's just downright depressing that he thinks he had no purpose, his existence was a lie, thought of himself as a mistake, and monster. To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised if Joey called Bendy a monster or a mistake. He did call Bendy a THING after all. I really hope Bendy does get to heal and realize his purpose doesn't need to be him suffering and he can have SOME peace.

#i prolly thought too deeply into this but idc #batdr #batim #bendy #bendy audrey drew #bendy ink demon #toon bendy #bendy joey drew #bendy wilson arch #bendy and the dark revival ink demon #bendy and the dark revival joey drew #bendy and the dark revival audrey drew #bendy and the dark revival wilson #bendy analysis #abuse tw #batdr analysis #toon bendy analysis

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 9: Bound in Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: To some, the blood bond is as sacred as marriage.

Word Count: 1,979

Notes: Today (April 29) is Lucy's birthday! This might be the sappiest thing I've ever written. Also, I couldn't find much concrete information on blood bonds, so apologies if I got some of the details wrong or had to fudge any of the real-life aspects of these bonds to accomplish what I intended in this fic. Don't try this at home, kids; blood-born illnesses are a thing. Warnings for depictions of blood, self-inflicted injuries, and smut.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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The knife stung as it bit into the flesh of her left palm. Blood, like red pearls, beaded at the first prick, then rushed from the wound in a small gush as she increased pressure on the blade and it sliced deeper into her flesh. She dragged it across nearly the full length of her palm, leaving a diagonal, bleeding line from the base of her index finger to the heel of her palm opposite the side of her thumb in its wake. 

When Tommy had asked her what she thought about marriage, she had been honest with him. Her feelings were conflicted. All her life, marriage had seemed to be akin to a cage. She’d watched women–not just her mother, though she was certainly the most potent example–have their entire beings almost entirely stripped away, until nothing, not even their name, remained. Nothing but a maid, housekeeper, nanny, and whore all rolled into one.  

Perhaps she was being a bit harsh, but that was the example of marriage she had been exposed to for almost her entire life.

And it did not ultimately matter what Tommy wanted, either. She knew it was never his desire to cage or chain her. But it would not be up to him. Society had a very particular expectation for women who were married. And if he wanted to stand even a miniscule of a chance of being accepted into the circles he longed to be a part of, he could not have an unconventional wife. At least not now. 

Perhaps someday, with the changing times and more modern outlooks…if equal rights for women ever truly properly took off, then maybe. But not right now. 

And she would be a rubbish wife. Bored out of her mind. She detested cleaning, was an absolute disaster when it came to knitting and sewing, and she was certain that sitting at home with the knowledge that her husband and his boys were out enjoying all the action and thrills of the life without her, would eat away at her. 

She never had handled the feeling of being left out very well. 

She’d grow to resent it. Resent her life. Maybe even resent him. And that was not something she was willing to risk. 

He had been startlingly understanding, all things considered, when she explained her feelings to him. He knew her so well, he probably had half been expecting it. He’d just stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“I don’t need a ring and a certificate to know that I’m going to love you forever,” he’d told her. She’d locked her arms around his neck, stretching up on her toes to touch her forehead to his. 

“I plan to love you forever too,” she’d affirmed. And she meant it. Just because she could not say yes to being his wife, did not mean that they didn’t intend to be together for the rest of their lives.  

“But the door is always open. If you ever decide someday that you do want it,” Tommy had promised. Her brows raised, she’d looked at him with eyes that were only half joking. 

“Really? What if you end up marrying someone else?”

He’d scoffed at the mere suggestion, but must have caught the seriousness behind the teasing tone in her voice, because he’d pulled her closer, fondly kissing her nose. “Doesn’t matter. The promise still stands,”  he’d shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You decide you want me to marry you, and I’m already married, I’ll just get divorced.”

Laughing, she’d shook her head. “I don’t think you can ‘just get divorced,’ love. It would fuck your reputation.”

He shrugged again. “Would be worth it,” her laughter faded at the dead seriousness she saw in his eyes as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

There was something about the way he’d said it, the complete and total certainty, that made her nearly want to cry. No one had ever loved her like this before. 

Completely. Passionately. Unconditionally. 

“There’s something else we could do. In the place of an official, legal marriage. If you’re interested,” he’d suggested, voice but a tempting purr in her ear. And when she looked at him, brow raised with intrigue, he smirked devilishly. 

And so here they were, kneeling in front of each other on the rug in the bedroom of her flat, each of them clutching a dagger in one hand, drawing it across their palms. Lucy watched the blood ooze from her cut, slightly flexing her fingers. She set the knife aside, looking from the warm, red gush to see Tommy doing the same, the dark red of his blood striking against the pale white of his skin.

He looked up, sky blue eyes glimmering in the low light of the candles they’d lit. Her eyes traced over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheeks, softened slightly by the freckles dotting his skin. Those eyes that could be as cold as ice or as warm as a sunny sky boring into her. Dark fringe falling over his forehead. When it was less styled, like it was now, he could have almost been described as a little boyish.  

The blood pooling in both of their palms dripped between their fingers. Sticky and warm.

Slowly, being careful so as to not jostle the cuts too much, they pressed their palms flush against each, then, just as slowly, interlaced their fingers.

Lucy gasped quietly at the feeling of his cut kissing hers. Their blood mixing together. Pouring into each other. Running through the other’s veins. 

If they had not already been one being simply split in two before, they certainly were now. Lucy shuddered, Tommy’s free hand going around her waist and pulling her a little closer, keeping their bleeding palms clasped tightly together. She tilted her head up, nose brushing along his neck and jaw as she did. He dipped his head to kiss her, deeply and open mouthed, the slow stroke of his tongue against hers making her moan softly against his plush lips. 

To some, the blood bond was as sacred as marriage. An unbreakable intermixing of the two bloods. The closest thing one could get to entwining their soul with another. Not only was it a symbol of the deepest possible love and trust, but also a silent promise of eternal devotion. A bond that would last as long as the scars remained present on their skin. A permanent mark tying them together for as long as they both lived. 

Of all the scars marking her flesh, faded but never truly to disappear, this was the only one she would ever truly be happy to have.     

His blood ran in her veins, now. He was a part of her. Forever.   

She’d have wanted it no other way.  

She kissed him back hard, the hand not clasped in his landing on his chest, feeling the steady rise of his breathing and the thump of his heart. Their palms squeezed impossibly tighter against each other, the blood coating them slick, smearing all across their palms, impossible to tell which belonged to whom. 

When they finally parted for air, foreheads resting against each other, they looked down together at their still clasped, bloody hands. 

It was done. 

Tommy’s arm around her waist tightened, somehow pulling her even closer to him, his lips on her forehead. Lucy closed her eyes. He was so impossibly warm, body large and strong and safe around her. She could have stayed like that forever. 

“I love you more than anything,” he said, and the words left tears brimming in her eyes. The weight of those words was not lost on her. 

“I love you too,” she said, angling her face up to his. “More than anything.” 

He smiled at her softly, head dipping to kiss her one last time before they parted, and his fingers flexed a little around hers. Their mixed blood was starting to run down both of their wrists. 

“We should get bandaged up. Before we both bleed everywhere,” he mumbled. 

“Mm,” she nuzzled at his chest. “Yeah.”

He reached for the gauze and bandages they’d set to the side in preparation. Some of the blood had congealed, half sticking their palms together, and it took a little bit of gentle fidgeting to pull them apart. Lucy hissed as Tommy poured a helping of alcohol over her cut, leaning into the kiss he brushed against her temple in apology. They cleaned and bandaged each other’s cuts with quick, practiced movements, examining their handiwork critically to ensure it was satisfactory and wouldn’t leave the other open to any complications or difficulty in healing.

Once that was done, Tommy was gathering her back up into his arms again, kissing her everywhere he would possibly reach. She giggled, overjoyed at the blatant display of affection, returning it as eagerly as she knew how. Strong arms scooping her up by the back of her thighs, he lifted her up onto his hips, standing in one fluid motion and carrying her towards the bed.  

Still kissing, they collapsed in an entanglement of limbs onto the mattress. Clothes were shed hastily, and then there was just the sounds of pleasure and utterances of love filling the room. Her fingers clenching in his hair as he kissed his way down her body, lips, tongue, and fingers working together once he’d reached his destination to make her cry out, back arching off the bed. 

And then he was over her again, wiping his mouth and looking far too pleased with himself. He grinned when she needily dragged his mouth back to hers, legs wrapping around his waist, eager. They both cried out when he sank into her in one deep thrust, the penetration serving as the second unioning of their bodies that evening. 

The bedframe creaked with the pace of their love making; thrusts steady, slow, and deep. Lucy clutched to him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. Never wanting to have to spend another moment of her life without him. 

She’d given him her soul. And in exchange he’d gifted her his heart. And now, with their blood running through each other’s veins, it was as if the merging of their beings had finally completed. They were one now. No one and nothing could ever tear them apart. 

She cried out his name when his cock hit the spot inside her that made her see stars, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit. Her head tipped back against the pillows, babbling nonsense about how good he always was to her. How he always took care of her. How he knew her more deeply and intimately than anyone else ever could. 

When her walls squeezed around him, Tommy moaned her name like it was a prayer. Like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And then his lips were at her ear, whispering over and over again how much he loved her. That she felt so good. That he promised to love her for as long as he breathed. Maybe even after that. 

She came with a sob of his name against his lips as he kissed her, felt it as he came with her at the exact same moment, filling her with a groan, hips rolling to a stop to rest inside of her as he emptied while she tightened around him like a vice. For hours, or maybe only minutes, neither of them moved, just laying there, holding each other as tight as they could. 

Later, Tommy laid reclined against the pillows, with Lucy cuddled securely in her spot on his chest. And there, in the dark and quiet of night, they traced each other’s bandaged cuts, and whispered promises of eternal love.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction

[becca4leafclover]

Yknow if we take Tubbo's charity stream today as canon and the theories of the little buddies to be correct-

The little buddies are the guardians of Egg Island and the protectors of the eggs there. They have no problem facing the island's dangers and invoke joy into the people they choose to take care of

In today's stream, SO MANY of the little buddies came to hang out with Tubbo! They protected him and followed him around as he followed the scavenger hunt they made for him. They were doing their job of protecting someone, much more than they've done with any of the other players currently here

And we'll, Chayanne gave Tubbo a certain running joke, right?

All I'm saying is that with the way the little buddies were with Tubbo, the "Tubbo is an egg" theory holds a little more water LMAO

#qsmp tubbo #qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp theory #qsmp little buddies #becca rambles #THE CHANCES OF THIS BEING REAL ARE SO SMALL #BUT I WANT IT TO BE TRUE

[verycoolsnails]

YAYYY MISHA THEME!!!

MISHA 💖💓🩷❤️💕💖💓🩷💖❤️💖💓💓💖🩷💓

#i loevev them so much did you know that #currently saving up for him and it is HELL after spending it all on sparkel .so many quests and not enough timw ......... #and . ouhhh havent had the chance to talk abt . shit what is it called . lemme go see real quick . #A CHILDS DREAM . yknow that one map with the text on the walls and the melted clocks and stuff . #that was done . SO incredibly well it makes me INSANE........... #so like . im 100.1% sure the speaker (who talks abt mikhail a lot) in that room is misha. #like that IS her voice right . im not going insane #its just . auuh... the dreams (or at least golden hour) in peacony are so childlike .... like . some of the puzzles are jigsaw puzzle ; #turn into a small cartoon character ; and help the cartoon character find his cartoon gears . #and then you get to clockie . who can only be seen by someone w a childs innoence (or smth around those lines) #and that misha can see clockie . which like . cool right ? yeab. UNTIL YOU GET TO A CHILDS DREAM .. #where theres something just ... sososo off . #and its ... its just gotta be misha . its gotta be . idk if theres anything outside of main story im missing (there probably is) #BUT . augh . auf even . #childs dream still has these childlike qualities to it (the paper birds; walking on walls) but just ... more warped #(the general atmosphere of the place; the monsters even .) #the music having a music box to make the tone of the song more distressing ... how its so much more smaller than golden hour .. #aughhhhhh ... its just such a good parallel..... i could talk abt it all day really . #anyways . i WAS going to tell u abt my misha theory (which may or may not be confirmed) bu t i got DISTRACTED. #uhh anyways . my theory is that misha is somehow trapped in peacony . #when misha goes onto the parlor car they mention that theyve never been outside of peacony before and that she can t stay for long . #which i imagine is very normal! BUT its this combined w her lock motif (pupils; most of the doors in childs dream) thag make me suspicious #i mentioned before that golden hour has a very childish quality to it. and that misha has that childish quality. #okay well . what if mishas being kept there so that golden hour can keep on being a dream for other people? #and so that would make golden hour mishas dream. (or part of his dream? could be more people the familys keeping) #and that would imply that childs dream is . well . mishas nightmare . #uhm . i think thats it ..? if i come up w anything else ill . ramble abt it somewhere . definitely not the most eloquent but #i hope i got the point across <33 #i think its an understatement to say i love misha . i LOVE MISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[courcgecus]

Some have that aura... to befriend rats, owls... (in rp wise cats, wolves and hounds)

Jonathan was widely known among the forest. Possibly for his knowledge being able to help them a lot with things they couldn't. Same with Mister Ages. They gained intelligence matching of humans. What a respect to have.

While Elizabeth is related, and the connection to the Mouse of NIMH welcomed her to meet the people in his past, I think her super power is also being very brave to try and reason, with whom nature would call natural enemies. I just love how Brisby can look at someone and make them push aside instincts xD

#|| I am not going to ignore in the film her status helped her - but so does connections in real life too ease making new contacts #|| I love roleplaying her now post NIMH / in different AUs as someone who overcame her struggles alone #|| after being so dependent on Jonathan and satisfied with their small life #|| and look now she is out there going and getting things done - trying to help others #|| even opening her heart - she had no tough shell keeping away people - but she chose to hide #|| Over years I have written her I just cherish these roleplays - I may be busy but I think this a lot #|| how long way she has come #|| and always offering everyone a chance to break their hard shell

[afieldinengland]

there’s a lot of things i miss that i’ve never actually had

#small example so we don’t get too maudlin: sometimes i miss being romantically compared to dorian #or— well. being thin and young and beautiful enough to come anywhere near fitting that moniker too #(don’t). but did that really ever happen? in reality have i ever had the chance to do anything like that? #can’t miss what you never had. there’s a hedonist in me and he’s been starving for twenty years #i’m glad that there’s no real risk of me ever getting kissed again i’m far more trouble than it’s worth #the minute i’m taken out of myself through this wire-mother cage i’ve fashioned i’m fucked #but i never have been. not really. i have real trouble identifying the last time i genuinely had fun #i miss being kissed. i miss the bronze age. i miss the grapes i’ve never really crushed against my palate #twenty now and i know it’s absurd to feel old. i haven’t wasted my chance you could argue #but where’s lord henry coming dancing from? <- you see this is absurd. i’m a deep cynic in a coat i pose a foxier threat than dorian ever #did. he likes to think. if nobody minds the sheer inconvenience of leading me on do they mind kissing me. or hitting me hard in the head ti #i bleed. just for the record #and key point— dorian was beautiful. well dorian was a muse #what’s happening here? well i’d like to be loved. sorry. still #maybe i’ve never been a dorian. something wronger #all romance i’ve had in my real life has been terrible and i’ve been hurt. can you forgive me for that #<- this is him at his least maudlin