#maybe there's still layers to the joke i don't understand

[rurninates]

i talked about this a tiny bit on twitter but the mario kart video on smii7y's main channel had a racist joke that has probably burst the bubble for me.

look, i understand that that group has a dark humour type thing. a lot of the bits are dark and i truly don't mind it most of the time! but this time it just wasn't funny.

the joke went like this (from the top of my head i don't want to watch it again):

tokyo blur being chosen as a map for the race. and then soup saying something like tokyo blur insert joke here and other people in the lobby being like say the joke/what's the joke

and soup elaborating and saying soemthing ti the effect of if my eyes were like that everything would be a tokyo blur

and like i didn't get it at first ? people in the lobby laughed but i didn't get it.

until smii7y says oh you know soup pulled his eyes back for that one

and it clicked tht i really just. i don't know. it wasn't funny. it was just racist. that was just a racist comment.

[musaslullaby]

I would marry you

Charles Leclerc x reader x Arthur Leclerc (platonic)

Summary: Yn helps Arthur cook for a dinner with an unexpected guest.

Warning: Just fluff.

Masterlist

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I parked my car in Arthur's driveway, my childhood friend, with a smile on my face. It had almost become a routine for us to spend time together, especially when it involved cooking. Arthur, despite being a disaster in the kitchen, wanted to prove to his friends that he could cook something without burning it all, and I could never say no when he asked for my help.

"Arthur, it’s me!" I called out loudly as I rang the doorbell. I heard his footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing his smiling face.

"Hey, star!" he greeted me affectionately, wrapping me in a warm hug. I felt the heat of his arms around me as I blushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Please, stop with that nickname," I replied, trying to maintain a firm tone, though I knew the blush on my cheeks gave away my discomfort. He’d been calling me that since I was six years old, a nickname I hated, but despite my protests, Arthur continued to use it.

He burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Come on, I know you still have that blue dress with the stars!" he joked, referring to that silly princess dress my dad got me for Christmas. I gave him a playful slap on the chest, trying to pout, but he just smiled at me, and the warmth of his affection reflected in his eyes.

Once inside, we headed straight to the kitchen. Arthur followed me like a puppy, eager to know what we were going to cook. "How about lasagna?" I suggested, starting to lay out the ingredients on the counter.

Arthur’s face lit up. "Can I help? I feel guilty letting you do all the work," he said, using those sweet eyes that I knew he reserved only to convince me. He put on an apron with a panda face drawn on it, and the sight made me burst out in loud laughter.

"Oh my God, where did that come from?" I asked, still laughing as I tried to catch my breath, clutching my stomach that was starting to hurt.

"A relic from my mom," he replied, pretending to pout. "Now stop laughing, seriously, it's not funny," he added, turning around with a mock-offended look. With a smile, without thinking twice, I hugged him from behind.

"Don't be like that," I whispered, trying to hold back tears from laughing. I felt his arms gently tighten around me.

"I’ll forgive you just this once," he said, his tone now lighter and sweeter.

Cooking with Arthur was always a mystical experience, a blend of chaos and affection. Even though he was clumsy, his presence made everything more fun. As we prepared the lasagna, every layer of pasta, sauce, and mozzarella was an opportunity for jokes and laughter. But his clumsiness led him to play a silly prank: he threw a bit of sauce on my nose.

I looked at him in disbelief, my eyes wide open, while he whistled, feigning innocence. "I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes, but the truth was that at that moment, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I wiped my nose on his apron, provoking a disgusted cry from him.

Our bond was so special, full of little complicities and jokes, an affection that went beyond mere friendship. There was an intimacy between us that few could understand, and it was something I cherished dearly in my heart.

Just as we finished preparing the lasagna, someone knocked on the door. Arthur offered to go open it, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the smell of freshly baked food. When he returned, his face was serene, as if nothing had happened.

"So? Who was it?" I asked, curious. But Arthur, with his usual nonchalance, only replied, "Charles."

That name sent a chill down my spine. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body, and my heart began to race. "Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was coming too?" I blurted out, maybe a bit too loudly. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

"Look, I forgot, okay?" he muttered, his tone guilty, but I didn’t have time to respond because just then the door to the house opened with a loud click.

"We’ll deal with this later," I hissed, giving him a look that left no doubt about my displeasure. I saw Arthur’s face pale slightly.

"Hey, guys," Charles greeted, walking in with the usual confidence that characterized him. He hugged Arthur with a smile, then turned to me, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He approached and hugged me, and my heart skipped a beat. That contact, so simple and innocent, ignited a fire of emotions within me that I desperately tried to control.

By now it was known to everyone, even the walls of that house, that I had a massive crush on Charles, my best friend's brother. But he had always been out of my reach, dating girls who seemed to shine much brighter than me.

We sat down at the table, and Arthur brought out the lasagna. The dish was perfect, golden and crispy on the surface, with a soft, gooey inside. The smell filled the room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Charles took a bite and smiled. "Okay, I bet Yn made this," he said, looking at me with approval.

Arthur pulled me closer with a knowing look. "Yeah, you know she’s amazing with Italian dishes."

"How are you, Charles?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I cut a piece of lasagna, avoiding looking into his eyes for too long.

"The races are going as they go," Charles began, choosing his words carefully, "but I have to admit, ever since I broke up, I’ve been feeling a lot better."

Those words took me completely by surprise. "You broke up?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief, my fork stopping halfway.

"Oh, yeah, and for a while now. I thought they had told you," Charles replied, throwing an accusatory glance at Arthur, who nervously scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Why did you break up? You two seemed… madly in love," I asked, trying to shift the focus away from Arthur and his awkwardness.

"Well, you know, she was a bitch who only cared about money and fame," Charles explained with a bluntness that surprised me. "And then… I realized I want a lighter, more playful relationship. With her, everything was too heavy." He paused and added, "She would never have cooked for us. You know, I’d marry you just for that."

In that moment, my world stopped. His words seemed to echo in my head, as his eyes stayed fixed on mine, filled with an intensity I had never noticed

before. My heart was racing, and my breath suddenly became short. I tried to figure out if he was joking or if there was something deeper in those words, but his serious and slightly embarrassed look confused me.

"You’re joking, right?" Arthur intervened, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous smile.

"Of course," Charles replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed. He kept looking at me, and even though he tried to keep the tone light, his cheeks turned a faint pink, as if he were torn between saying something important and wanting to keep our relationship as it was.

The silence that followed was dense with unspoken emotions. Arthur, perhaps realizing the tension, stood up abruptly, breaking the spell. "So, who wants some wine?" he asked, heading to the kitchen with a haste that betrayed his desire to divert attention from the conversation that had just taken place.

I remained still for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that Charles could even vaguely consider the idea of being with me filled me with a pure and innocent hope. But at the same time, I knew how complicated the situation was. He was my best friend’s brother, and our bond, as deep and sincere as it was, had never crossed that fine line that separated brotherly affection from something more.

As Arthur returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses, Charles and I exchanged one last look. He smiled at me, a small smile that seemed to say many things. And for a moment, I let that smile warm my heart, forgetting all the complications for an instant.

Arthur poured the wine, and we sat down again, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter tones. But the atmosphere had changed.

As we sipped the wine and enjoyed the last slice of lasagna, I couldn’t help but think about how strange fate was. Sometimes, it makes us go in circles, it makes us take winding paths, only to bring us back exactly where we were meant to be from the beginning. Maybe that lunch, with its simplicity and surprises, was one of those moments that mark a turning point, a new chapter that opens, even if we didn’t yet know where it would lead us.

And as the evening went on, and the laughter and jokes filled the room, I couldn’t help but glance at Charles from time to time, wondering if he felt that change too, if he was thinking about what could happen between us if only we had the courage to explore that possibility.

Maybe, I thought, while smiling at Arthur’s jokes, that some things just need a little more time to mature. And maybe, in the end, fate would find a way to connect those dots that seemed to have been left hanging for so long.

[yakichoufd]

Is it weird that I don't feel excited for the Deadpool and Wolverine movie?

I feel like X-Men 97 already scratched that X-Men itch and obsession in my head. Plus I feel satisfied with artists like you making Wolverine polycule fanart and fancomics.

Is something wrong with my head???

I think your feelings are valid cause you don't need to watch something else if you already feel satisfied. I am hype for that movie because I enjoyed the first two Deadpool movies. I am not expecting to fall in love of Logan there, or the other x-men we might see. I am expecting to watch a ridiculous movie with silly jokes and funny action scenes. I am hoping Scott will have a cameo but I think it won't happen. I've never been a super fan of Logan movies. He is fun and interesting (plus the actor is very handsome so my eyes are always happy when he is on screen), but his big lone wolf energy was a bit too much for me. Maybe he is too handsome and awesome and in the animated serie, he is a grumpy short king who has a lot to say and his lone wolf personnality seems more understandable to me. I really enjoy how unhinged he is in the 92 show and how he was in 97. It satisfies me a lot. I think you can take whatever please you in any adaptation and play around that. You don't need to enjoy every new adaptation from a franchise you like. There are some X-men comics where I find Scott really boring and not interesting at all. I enjoy very specifics things about him and therefore it makes me very picky about how he is portrayed. I still think I am a fan. I am a picky fan, but a fan regardless. Even if I mostly know the animated shows. I am tired of that childish fight "Oh I am a better fan cause I read the comics!" it is not a competition lmao! Enjoy whatever you want!! I personnaly read the comics cause I want more Scott content. That's my personnal reason. I want to know everything about him haha! I think we are many to be tired of the Jean/Scott/Logan drama ( where they are rivals instead of lovers) cause that rivality, usually, has a layer of misogyny and sexism. Jean is the prize and the 2 males love interests can't think straight and have to claim her. As if Jean has no choice but to accept the one who fight the hardest. I'm sorry but that is really stupid, and not how feelings work imo. That kind of relationship is based on something so weak, it will break at the first issue they would meet . I personnaly find that kind of writting insulting for every character involved, and it breaks the sincerity and depth of the romance. It removes all kind of feelings, character development and personnalities. It makes them so immature too. The polycule road on the other hand shows they could build something different. They could break the rules and be free to make their own. And as mutants, they don't care about humans society stupid rules. The can write what works for them and gain maturity over their relationship and sexuality. I am not saying every couples have to become a polycule to be mature. But for Scott, Jean and Logan it seems like a better fit for them. They can still act silly and fight over randoms things, but removing that very unhealthy incomplete love triangle and make it an actual love triangle, where each individual have romantic feelings for each other is better for them imo.

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[violetarks]

I read your most recent post and am deeply sorry for this ask..

Could you maybe write chishiya x reader fluff? Like it's cuddles and words stuff like that?

"scoot over."

show: alice in borderland

character: chishiya shuntaro

summary: after a hard game, you decide to unwind. the hatter throws another party, but chishiya is only interested in finding out why you weren't attending.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov

a/n: no amount of apologies could atone to your mistake. (im joking, thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy!!)

"well done." you hear your assigned partner for the last game, ann, say to you. she pats your back gently, fixing her sunglasses on her nose. "only a handful of cards left now."

you sigh out, craning your neck to relieve some tension, "thanks, ann. you too, you were great. i just can't wait to leave this place..."

she didn't know whether you speaking about the borderlands or the beach. the place was always loud and cheerful, and while that was a nice change in pace for the world they were in, sometimes somebody just needed some good peace and quiet.

but ann only removes her hand from your back, walking off towards her room. "i understand. get some rest."

a silent 'thank you' is said as you walk pass the atrium, looking down the hallway to see the crowds of people and hatter presenting the card you had just won and returned. everyone cheered, music starting up again as hatter claims another party is to be thrown.

to the beach! grab your towels and find some booze! it's time to celebrate another win!

you see the other executives standing behind him, nodding their heads and following to the party. but instead of joining, you rub your face and stifle a yawn. your room was further from the pools, so you could have some quiet.

sweat dripped down your back and you pull the collar of your summer shirt, trying to blow some cold air down your chest. why did the game have to be held in an open field, with no shade, while it was scorching hot. it's a wonder how ann managed to look so put together in such heat.

reaching your room was a safe haven, and you closed your door to flop onto your bed with ease. the promptly grabbed the remote and turned on the air conditioning, sighing dreamily at how the cold air hit your hot skin. it was almost too good to be true, how the electricity was still on. they hadn't checked on the generator in a while.

it isn't long until you hear the faint laughter and music coming from the party. it was a normal occurrence at this point, and you were glad that not many people partied inside the hotel. it gave you time to close your eyes and get into a comfortable position to sleep in.

there's a whisper of knocks at your door.

"who is it?" you groan, wiping your eyes.

the person replies, "astroboy."

you sit up, running fingers through your hair as you retort, "come in." chishiya marches through the door, closing it behind him. he crosses his arms over his chest as he studies you. "what do you need?"

"i just came by to congratulate the winner of the last game." he states, watching you crawl back under the first thin layer of blanket on your double bed, "the eight of clubs. always knew you were the trusting type."

with your back to him, you talk, "i trust you, don't i? that's risky enough."

"ann told us that you were the leader in that game. i'm impressed." chishiya compliments, coming closer and picking up the small teddy keychain on your beside table. you had found a ball machine and a broken one, so using the coins from that, you won yourself a blue teddy keychain. chishiya told you to just get them all, but you said one was enough. "i thought you would be down there celebrating with everyone else."

you shake your head, yawning, "i'm too tired to go out there. i'm staying in my room for the night to sleep."

"oh, is that so?" he hums, putting the keychain down, "i'm the same. i can't be bothered watching them out there in this weather. it's agonising."

you nod your head in agreement, laying on your back. chishiya was always a nice guy that you were close with. he was sarcastically smart and sometimes got on your nerves. he was lucky you were so fond of him, he would've been kicked out of here if it weren't for that.

"wanna' stay?" you ask, looking to the ceiling.

"with you?" he mumbles.

"no, we'll do a room swap—yes with me, idiot." you grumble out, turning around again.

chishiya grins at your tone before muttering, "scoot over."

you do so. it's silent for two seconds before he does lay beside you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, so close that chishiya could see the hair blowing in your face from the air conditioning.

"what's wrong?" he asks, looking to the back of your head. you reply that 'it's nothing', but chishiya isn't buying it. "you usually at least stop by at every one of these parties. common courtesy for you. are you that tired?"

you don't say anything to him at first, but then, you turn around and lock eyes with the blonde. chishiya is on his back, he sees how you knit your brows in irritation.

"do you miss home?" you question, playing with the blanket, "our real home?"

"of course, who doesn't? these games dwindle our numbers and we don't even know why we're here." chishiya states, looking unbothered by what he said, "it's a fascinating world, though."

"it's a prison." you mumble into the blanket. your knee nudges his thigh, and chishiya lays a hand on the pillow, in between the both of you. staring at his fingers, you reach out and put your palm over his, gently. "i miss home."

"what was your home like?" he questions, eyed tracing your every breath.

"it was quieter than here. i used to cook with the tv going on in the background so it didn't sound like i was alone and that somebody was in the other room watching." you claimed, closing your eyes for a second, "but it was also really nice being by myself. my friends used to take me out all the time because i was a 'homebody'. all i had was work and home."

chishiya chuckles, brushing fingers over your knuckles, "that was just like me. i only had my work. and i worked at the hospital more than i spent time at home. my apartment was a good walk away, so i saw no point, y'know?"

you let out a hum, staring at your hands, "if we lived together, we'd barely see each other."

he smiles softly, nodding once. "i guess you're right."

"but it's still nice living by yourself. cooking for one, cleaning for one." you comment, suddenly missing your bedroom and your living room and kitchen. all that you were surrounded by before. "i've never spent a whole lot on groceries either, only as much as i needed. you don't need to do more than yourself. and there's nobody else to worry about..."

you were so tired. you missed being able to sleep in and not having to go to bed early because you had a death-defying game to play the next day. you missed not having to think about your life to intricately. you missed your actual life.

"you wouldn't have to worry about me." chishiya says, and your eyes open to see the blonde looking back at you with certainty. his hand clutches yours warmly. "i wouldn't make you worry."

"you promise?" you ask quietly, knitting your brows.

"if you want me to." he tells you. your brows upturn. "i promise."

chishiya was the most normal thing about your life right now. someone who just likes to see you around every now and again. more often than he'd like to admit. but he was so warm and considerate.

a swift movement of yours has arms around chishiya's neck, hugging him close to your chest as your bury your face into his hair. he lets out a small huff at the action before hands rest on your hips, snaking to around your waist. the blanket nearly covers all of chishiya, and he feels your hot skin shiver twice before calming down. he rubs your back gently as your shoulders relax.

"when we get back, you'll find me?" you ask, hopeful.

he can hear your heartbeat grow faster. "you will." he responds.

"tell me about your life?" you request.

he hums, leaning back and facing the ceiling again. you scoot closer, keeping an arm stretched across his chest and laying your head on his shoulder. "med student. i work with patients requiring transplants and people on waiting lists, but i'm an all round." he explains, "my apartment is of decent size. i have a spare bedroom that i keep all extra storage in. my study is filled. i have to say, it is nice living alone."

you nod your head, and chishiya goes on, "i usually get breakfast on the way to work; just one sugar and a quarter milk, or sometimes i just get black coffee with two sugars." he can tell you're only half listening, from the way you're playing with the strings of his jacket. but he doesn't mind. "on my breaks, i go to this takeout place across from the hospital. they sell my favourite meat buns, i always buy at least two."

he taps your back, twice you note. and you look up at him. "when we get out of here, remind me to show you." he says, "it can be our spot."

you stare at him for a while before nodding slowly. "yeah... okay."

he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, muttering back with she unknown knowledge, "you'll come find me one way or another."

[newobsessionweekly]

Let me fix this

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Metro!Tim Bradford x Metro!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Two years after Tim broke up with you, you meet again on his first day at Metro.

Warnings: mentions of heartache, breakup, harsh words, swearing? not proofread yet ?

Angst

Requested: Yes, kind of

Words: still counting

Tags: @moneyy-21

GIF not mine, credits to the owner

The room feels suffocating as you dig through the forgotten corners of your closet, searching for something misplaced. Your fingers brush against the cool surface of a small box tucked away amidst a pile of old clothes. Pulling it out, you lift the lid, revealing a treasure trove of memories.

Photos, ticket stubs, and trinkets from days long gone stare back at you, each one a reminder of a chapter in your life that prematurely ended.

Your heart skips a beat as you stumble upon the photo you used to love so much, buried beneath layers of nostalgia. It's a snapshot frozen in time, capturing a moment of pure happiness between you and Tim. Dressed in your LAPD uniforms, you're locked in a tender embrace, lips pressed together in a kiss that speaks volumes of the love you once shared. The wide smiles on your faces are a stark contrast to the pain that now grips your heart.

The photo feels like a cruel joke, taunting you with memories of a love that was supposed to last a lifetime. Tears well up in your eyes as you trace the outline of Tim's face, the warmth of his smile a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

Your heart was racing as you hold his hands tightly, a smile playing on your lips. You've been together for what feels like forever, talking about your future, about marriage, about kids. But suddenly, something feels off.

"Hey, baby. What happened? Are you okay?" you ask as you reach out to touch his cheek gently.

Tim's eyes betray a storm brewing within him as he looks at you, his grip tightening on your hands. "I lied about everything. I just lied to two men I deeply respect, OK? I just betrayed everything I thought was right about myself. So no, I'm not okay."

Confusion washes over you, mingling with a sense of unease. You squeeze his hands gently, hoping to provide some comfort and reassurance. "I would have done the same thing if I was in your place. You were wrong, but you made it right, so it's fine."

But Tim's expression remains grave. "No, it's not. And you wouldn't have been in my place. You never would have put self-interest over your team."

You swallow hard, trying to understand. "Tim..." Your voice trails off.

He shakes his head, his voice strained. "No, no. You got to let me finish, OK? This is very hard for me to say."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you nod, urging him to continue, your other hand reaching out to cup his cheek gently, trying to offer him comfort in any way you can.

"Y/N, I've been lying to myself for a long time. That's clear to me now, and I can't-- I can't just go back to the way things were. Not right now. Maybe never," Tim confesses, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours as he leans in closer.

Your heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces. "Wait. Are you breaking up with me?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, your breath mingling with his as you hold onto him desperately.

Tim's gaze softens, filled with a sorrow you've never seen before. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

"No, no. You don't-- you don't get to do that. You don't get to push me away, not let me be by your side and then use that as an excuse to leave me, OK? That's not OK," you protest, desperation creeping into your voice.

Tim's eyes are filled with regret as he reaches out to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "I know, I know," he whispers, his touch gentle against your skin.

"What you're doing is not okay. Don't do this to me," you plead, your voice trembling as your hands were clinging to him as if he's the only anchor in a stormy sea.

"I'm sorry," Tim repeats, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, his lips brushing against your temple in a silent apology. "You– you are incredible, okay?"

You shake your head, unable to comprehend what's happening, your body shaking with sobs as you bury your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he's slipping away.

"No, Tim... Don't do this. Why are you doing this?" you cry out, feeling like your world is collapsing around you, your fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of his shirt.

"You deserve so much better. That's why I'm walking away," Tim says, his voice barely audible as he stands up, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your shattered heart and a million questions left unanswered, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin.

The past two years had been a whirlwind of heartache and longing since the breakup. Each day felt like a battle against memories that refused to fade and emotions that refused to be tamed. So, when you landed a position at Metro, it felt like a lifeline, a chance to escape the constant reminder of what could have been.

As you prepared for your shift, the Metro division buzzed with activity, a hive of energy and excitement. Your fellow officers bustled around, exchanging greetings and sharing snippets of their lives. You smiled at the familiar faces, grateful for the distraction they provided.

Your superior's voice rang out, breaking through the chatter. "Attention, everyone! We have a new recruit joining us today," she announced, her words drawing curious glances from your colleagues.

You turned your attention back to your preparations, trying to push aside the knot of nerves that had formed in your stomach. But as you glanced up, your heart skipped a beat — you never expected to come face to face with Tim again. But there he was, standing in the same room, his presence hitting you like a ton of bricks.

He catches your eye, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent exchange. His gaze is intense, filled with emotions you can't quite decipher, and for the first time in years, you find yourself unable to look away.

Seeing Tim's face again sent a surge of electricity through you. He looked even better than you remembered – all rugged and hot, with that stubble on his jaw making him look dangerously sexy. And those lips, once the source of endless kisses, now held a serious expression that only fueled the flames of your longing. It was his eyes that captured your attention and held it captive. Deep pools of blue, they seemed to pierce through your soul, stirring emotions you thought long buried.

Tim in that Metro uniform was like a jolt of electricity, sparking a fire of desire within you that you hadn't felt in ages. The fabric clung to his body in all the right places, showing off his muscles and making you feel all warm and tingly inside. His shoulders looked broad and strong, his chest firm and inviting, and every move he made just seemed to make you want him more. He walked with this confidence that was so damn sexy, like he owned the place.

You realized with a pang that you had never truly moved on, that you had been fooling yourself into thinking you could bury your feelings for him. The sight of him brought back a flood of emotions you had tried so hard to suppress, reminding you that some wounds never truly heal.

Tim couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight before him. You looked different, changed somehow, yet still undeniably beautiful.

Your eyes, once filled with laughter, now seemed tired, as if they had seen too much. But they still held that sparkle that had always drawn him in, like they were sharing a secret only he could understand. Your lips, once always curled into a smile, now held a hint of sadness, but they were still as soft and inviting as ever, making him want to reach out and kiss them just like he used to.

And as his gaze trailed down your body, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. The way your uniform hugged your curves, accentuating every contour, sent a pulsing wave of desire through him. He remembered how it felt to hold you close, to run his hands over the curve of your waist, and the memory made his heart ache with longing.

Days passed, and it became painfully clear to Tim that you were avoiding him like the plague ever since he joined Metro. Every encounter felt like stepping on eggshells, your attitude frosty and distant, making his training sessions feel more like a battle of wills than anything else.

"You're late, Bradford," you snapped one morning, your voice cutting through the air like a whip as he entered the training room.

Tim clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. "Sorry ma'am, got held up with paperwork," he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing your features. "Excuses won't cut it here, Bradford. If you can't handle the workload, maybe Metro isn't the place for you," you retorted, your words like daggers aimed straight at his heart.

Tim felt his temper flare, but he bit back the retort that threatened to spill from his lips. He knew it wouldn't do any good to escalate the situation further.

From the moment he stepped into the training room, you were on him like a hawk, scrutinizing his every move with a critical eye. Your instructions were sharp and unforgiving, your expectations sky-high.

You pushed him to his limits and beyond, demanding nothing short of perfection in everything he did.

For Tim it was like diving into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. Each day was a whirlwind of sweat, sore muscles, and frustration, all thanks to you, who seemed determined to push him to his breaking point. But he refused to crack. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, determined to prove himself worthy of being at Metro, no matter how hard you tried. And it was frustrating, for both of you.

The tension between you and Tim was palpable, a thick cloud of grudges that hung in the air whenever you were in the same room. Your fellow officers couldn't help but notice the frosty exchanges and sharp words that passed between you, like sparks flying in a tinderbox.

Despite the urging of your colleagues to bury the hatchet, neither of you were willing to back down. Every interaction was fraught with tension, each word laced with bitterness and resentment.

"You really think you belong here, Bradford?" you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you glared at him.

Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger. "I belong here just as much as you do, Y/L/N," he shot back, his tone defiant.

The cruel words flew back and forth, each one cutting deeper than the last. But beneath the anger and pain, there was a passion between you that refused to be extinguished. It was a fire that burned bright, fueled by years of history and unspoken feelings.

Despite everything, there was a magnetic pull between you that neither of you could deny. It was a connection that had only grown stronger with time, a testament to the depth of your emotions and the intensity of your bond.

When tensions reached a boiling point, one of your closest colleagues, seeing the toll your treatment was taking on Tim, pulled you aside for a private conversation.

"Y/N, can I have a word?" his voice was gentle, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern.

You nodded tersely, already bracing yourself for whatever lecture he had in store.

"I know things between you and Bradford are... complicated," he began carefully, choosing his words with precision. "But you're making his training unnecessarily difficult. He's a good cop, and he deserves a fair chance."

Your jaw clenched at the mention of Tim's name, but you remained silent, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in his words.

"He's struggling, Y/N," he continued, "Maybe it's time to put aside your personal feelings and give him a break."

You scoffed, unable to hide your bitterness. "He doesn't deserve a break," you snapped, "He's not Metro material, and he never will be."

The officer sighed, his expression one of disappointment. "I thought you were better than this, Y/N," he said quietly before walking away, leaving you alone with your stubborn pride and the weight of your own unresolved emotions.

Tim stood tall in front of his team, his posture commanding as he barked orders at the officers under his command. He radiated authority, his voice firm and unwavering as he prepared you for the mission ahead.

"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Tim's voice rang out, commanding the attention of the officers under his command. "We've got a hostage situation at the bank downtown. We move in fast, we move in hard, and we get those hostages out safely. Understood?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his words, your frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was bad enough that you had to endure his presence every day at Metro, but now you had to take orders from him too?

As Tim's gaze landed on you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally speaking. "Y/N, you're with me," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But you weren't about to let him call the shots. Not after everything that had happened between you. "I fly solo," you shot back.

Tim's expression hardened, hurt flashing in his eyes for just a moment before he composed himself. "Suit yourself," he muttered, his jaw clenched with frustration.

As Tim barked out commands over the radio, everyone on the team fell into line, following his lead without question. But you, stubborn as ever, chose to go your own way, defying orders and doing what you knew best.

"Y/N, I need you to fall back and cover our six," Tim's voice crackled over the radio, his tone firm but tinged with frustration.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring his orders as you continued with your part of the mission. The sound of Tim's voice grated on your nerves, fueling the fire of resentment burning within you.

"Y/N, do you copy?" Tim's voice came through again, more insistent this time.

You rolled your eyes, shutting off your radio with a flick of your thumb. You didn't need Tim's constant nagging in your ear; you knew what you were doing.

The mission dragged on, tension thick in the air as the stakes grew higher with each passing moment. Despite your defiance, Metro emerged victorious, completing the mission with flying colors. As the team regrouped, Tim congratulated everyone on a job well done, his voice dripping with pride.

"You all did a phenomenal job out there today," Tim began, "and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of you."

The team exchanged smiles and nods, basking in the glow of Tim's praise. But when his gaze landed on you, the warmth in his eyes was noticeably absent, replaced instead by a simmering tension that seemed to hang in the air like a tornado.

"Except you, Y/N," Tim continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "You acted recklessly out there, disobeying orders and putting the entire team at risk. You're lucky we came out of this in one piece."

You bristled at his words, anger bubbling up inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. "I did what needed to be done," you shot back, "I know what I'm doing, Bradford."

Tim's jaw clenched, his frustration evident in the way his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You think you can just do whatever the hell you want out there?" he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Well, let me tell you something, Y/N. This isn't about you. It's about the team, and you need to start acting like it. You put everyone at risk."

"I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do my job."

The air crackled with tension, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. And as you stood there, locked in a battle of wills with Tim, you couldn't help but feel a surge of something else stirring deep within you.

"Dammit, Y/N, why are you so stubborn?"

"Why am I stubborn?" you shot back, your own anger fueling the fire between you.

Your hand reached up to push him away, palms resting on his chest, but your touch lingered, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of his uniform against your fingertips and you couldn't move them away.

"Maybe because you never listen to me, Tim. Why do you always have to think you know what's best for me?"

Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Because I care about you, damn it!" he retorted, "I never stopped caring for you."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his gaze, the intensity of his stare threatening to consume you whole. "And what if I don't want you to protect me?" you challenged.

Pausing for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desire, you closed the distance between you, your lips hovering just inches apart.

"Stop trying to protect me," you murmured, your breath mingling with his. "I don't need you. I stopped doing that the second you walked away."

Tim's grip tightened on your waist, his eyes searching yours with a fierce intensity. "I never stopped loving you," he confessed, "I was a fool, alright? I know and I regret every single moment for leaving you."

"Lies," you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. But despite your words, you couldn't deny the longing that pulsed through your veins, the ache in your heart that yearned for him.

"Let me fix this," Tim pleaded, his voice desperate as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek.

"Two years, Tim..." you trailed off, "And what's even worse is that I love you even more."

Your words faded into a whisper, lost in the haze of desire that clouded your mind. And before you knew it, Tim was closing the distance between you, his hands reaching out to cup your face as he pressed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The world fell away as the kiss deepened, passion igniting between you like a wildfire. Years of pent-up longing and desire poured into the kiss, each touch, each caress, speaking volumes of the love that had never truly faded.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦 - part four lando norris x  fem! streamer! reader (fluff) “. . . lando finds himself addicted to playing video games with this girl he cant get out of his head.”

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“This is pointless” he thought tiredly as he turned to sleep on his other side, only to feel frustrated anger boil in him soon enough. Lando's been restless for a good few hours now and he feels like he's losing his mind. The Japanese Grand Prix week had ended and he still couldn't shut his eyes for the day.

He felt angry, and agitated. He didn't even know what drove him to pick up his phone and dial your contact. What was that going to solve, bothering you with his problems? Besides, it's a bad idea because it's 1am at yours. He'll just hang up and pray that sleep takes him.

Well, his phone didn't stay on his nightstand for long because as soon as you called back he had practically smashed the green button and pressed the phone to his ear. Lando opened his mouth ready to throw complaints, only to stop short hearing you yawn, which he hated to admit that it helped his heart rate calm down faster than you can blink.

"It's one in the morning, Lan." You yawned, shuffling to find a comfortable position where you didn't have to hold your phone up.

"I know— I'm sorry." The brit sighed, rubbing his eyes, laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry I woke you up." His voice came off as soft, he was clearly sorry. You could hear how tired and exhausted he was too.

"No, it's ok," you shook your head. "Tell me what's wrong." Lando sighed, staying silent for a few minutes, trying to search through his thoughts. Why was he feeling this way?

"I saw the race." You hum after a few moments, snuggling into your bed sheets as your phone rested on the pillow somewhere beside you. "That overtake was amazing." Your little tired giggle made Lando's heart skip a beat as he rested his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

"I was watching you on TV. My roommate thought I was crazy. Maybe I was being a bit too loud. Maybe I wanted my voice to reach you aaaaalll the way in Japan so you could go faster." You joked, chucking softly at the idea. Lando found himself smiling at the thought, imagining you jumping and cheering for him.

"How would I go any faster?" Lando chuckled, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close.

"I don't know? You're Lando Norris. You drive super fast cars." You tease, making Lando laugh at your reference to his twitter bio. How you always make the minutes feel yellow and joyful, he'll never understand. The call has only been on for 13 minutes and you've already made him feel much better and lighter.

"Yeah," he nodded agreeing, feeling his smile widen. “I drive super fast cars.” He agreed with a happy sigh. Yep, he definitely felt much better now that you're here, even if you're not physically present.

It was as if you were mending him with magic. Not with stitches or bandages, or glue. No need for needle and thread, or having to change gauze or having to put layers of glue. You made Lando feel as if he was glowing.

"What's your favourite movie?" He asked out of nowhere. You took a second or two before giving your answer.

"I think I'll pick . . . Corpse bride." you hummed as you shifted to sleep on your other side. Lando's eyebrows furrowed in surprise at your choice. 

"Corpse bride? Why Corpse Bride?" You chuckled and shrugged. 

"It's a good movie. It makes my heart feel . . . I can't explain it. It's just a good movie." Lando thought for a second, scratching under his eye. 

"Well I'll have to come watch it next time because I've never watched the full thing." You gasp at his confession, making him laugh. 

"How dare you?" You pretend to be offended, making Lando and you laugh for a good few moments. "What about you? What's your favourite movie?" You ask. Lando held his breath before pulling it out. 

"I'm not sure. It keeps changing every now and then." He shrugged, finding himself smiling.

"That's a very Lando Norris thing to say." Lando found himself laughing, face heating up. 

"What's yourrrrrr," Lando paused for a second trying to think of something. "Favourite colour."

"Oh! Green for sure." You nodded with a hum. 

"Green? What type of green?" Lando asked further. 

"No, no, it's my turn to ask. What's your favourite colour?"

"Fluorescent yellow." Lando answered without hesitation. "Now. What type of green?" He asked the question again. You hummed for a second. 

"I'd say, like, the green on your helmet. But like, with purple. But not fluorescent purple. A not so dark purple" You nodded. The brit found himself smiling heavily, cheeks burning. He's glad this was a voice call, otherwise he's not sure how he'd hide his face from you. 

“You like my helmet’s colour?” 

“Hey, pretty boy. It’s my turn to ask.”

The questions went on until you decided to invite Lando for a small game after he kept insisting that you should fall asleep. but you kept declining, insisting to give him company so he's not alone, not mentioning the fact that you heavily enjoy his company and voice.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Huge farm." Lando commented as he walked his little avatar around your house and crops. 

"Yeah," you nodded. "been playing this game for a long while now." You hummed smiling as you followed Lando around.

"Oh look! An NPC!" the brunette started running circles around the kid making you chuckle.

"That's my son." You say and immediately get a gasp from the other side of the call.

"You have a son?!" You found yourself laughing. "How'd you make him?" You found yourself laughing even harder at the question.

"What - do - you - mean?" You asked between wheezes, barely being able to breathe. Lando was even angrier when he found out you divorced your husband, insisting you file for child support.

"I'll marry you, Y/n! I'll look after you and your son." Lando said confidently, running in circles around you this time. “I’ll support you financially and be the father figure he needs. Marry me, marry me, marry me!”

"I think-" you tried to catch your breath, wiping tears of laughter. "I think I have a ring." You say and can immediately hear Lando's excited squeal from the call.

"I'm gonna get married before Max! Ha!" You thought you were going to drown in dopamine at this point, hugging your stomach as you offered Lando the ring. "WAIT, I DIDN'T PREPARE A SPEECH." He panicked.

"Most amazing and beautiful lady in all the lando-" The guy was too stressed in his thoughts that he accidentally said his own name instead of land, which was not helping you calm down from your laughing fit. "IN ALL THE LAND! I meant in all the land!" he corrected himself quickly.

"Y/n dev L/n. Will you marry me, lLando, in this RPG pixelated game and take my last name," he said quickly. "Wait! wait." He shouted, cutting himself off. You saw your screen flash with colours, seeing Lando open his camera and lamp. "Will you, Y/n devs L/n marry me." The Brit repeated holding his hands as if he was opening a ring box.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile, turning your own camera and setting it to lean on the heap of texts on your night stand. The PC on your bed illuminated your face just enough. Lando felt his heart hammer in his chest seeing your smile and eyes. So sleepy yet so effortlessly beautiful to the point butterflies swarmed his stomach.

"My, sir Lando. I would love to marry you." You nodded sheepishly, trying to brush your messy hair to look a little more presentable despite you both looking like a stuffed animal that got chewed on by a dog. You had thought Lando was naked at first glance but turns out he was sleeping in his underwear. You were no better,  in a mickey mouse shirt with also no pants.

Lando put his hand over his heart, pretending cupid had shot an arrow through. "Oh, my wife." He sighed happily, making you laugh and blush.

You felt . . . some sort of way after this fake proposal. It was only in Stardew Valley. But you still felt something stir in your heart, seeing Lando's genuine smile. For a moment, you both forgot you weren't actually married, spending the rest of the night doing couple things and having the fake wedding which you recorded for memory.

[draconic-absurdism]

DESPERATE MEASURES

Story below the cut

An image of a doorway flutters in hir mind as ze shimmies upward ever further, nearing the flattening of the smooth linoleum pane, nearly teetering off the edge. And as hir vision blurs again, surely ze will fall. The wall, crisp and cold, audibly clacks, a desperate grasping with useless hooven fingers, tinged with a pulling at hir fuzzy chest as ze slides hirself up. There's no railing, nothing to grip.

Falling wouldn't be so bad, really. It never is, here in this place. Clouds roll on and on. It's comforting, almost, breaking barriers that, in a sense, are physically impossible, over and over again. To rely on something that contradicts nature. Or is it that nature itself is contradictory?

But ze's never made it quite this far before. As hir fingers crest the corner, ze pulls hirself up, slipping a final time before maneuvering one hoof onto flat land. But as ze huffs in relief, the image flickers again, and hir heart recoils into itself in horror as it realizes the door ze pictures has no stairway leading up, no clouds, no bluish tinge left to the sky. This is all wrong. How hadn't I realized?

Maybe this isn't the end of the path. But ze manages to arch hir head back far enough to get a glimpse up at the endless vertical stretch of the architecture, absurd in its scale, vanishing up into a single point in space beyond a layer of clouds so far up that they may as well have been pixels on a screen, and ze sees that this is indeed the wrong place and the wrong time.

I'm going to give up again. I'm going to stop trying again. It wasn't so bad in the water, floating around on the surface but never really breaking through. But even as ze mutters to hirself, the truth of the matter has already been decided, and bile rises in hir throat as ze realizes that an attempt at something so futile as this may not be worthwhile. Or maybe it is. Either way, in the end, you find that despite how gratingly alone you may feel, you aren't in solitude nearly as often as you think you are.

"Come up with me." The voice isn't startling. It's always a new one, but it says the same thing. It's the tone that really gets to hir. Sometimes sincere and sometimes otherwise, not like ze can ever tell the difference regardless.

"No," ze retorts, letting one hoof slip back down the slope.

The creature's slit eyes open up in what appears to be genuine surprise. "Oh."

"You can't help me. I'm in the wrong place."

"I don't think so."

'You don't get to tell me if I am or not."

"That's true...."

It's a nonsense conversation, the dragon lacking the entirety of context surrounding the boar's circumstances. Even if the discussion persisted for quite a while, it wouldn't understand beyond what is mostly universal, would it? But to say anything actually true to hirself would be to risk a level of vulnerability that ze's never quite known how to reign in. If it was called small talk, why did it always feel like hir lungs were set ablaze? A surface tension that can't be broken.

"...I can take you back down, then. So you don't have to fall, at least."

The offer almost makes hir laugh. Almost. "Frankly, I'd rather you just eat me at this point."

"Sure." It opens its maw.

The boar is genuinely surprised to have met someone who picks up on jokes even less often than hirself. Ze goes to scratch hir chin before realizing with a start that ze's still in a rather precarious situation, straightening up hir spine and smooshing her chest back up against the wall.

At some point in the moment of silence that follows, the dragon realizes its mistake and snaps its jaws shut with an audible clack. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

This time, the boar really does laugh. "You're fine."

Though the massive reptile's neck quickly disappears into a thick layer of fluffy white cumulus clouds, most of its body completely out of view, the boar gets the sense that its claws are shuffling uncomfortably in the grass so far below. The silence flows through both of their lungs on the next inhale, and the boar scoots up to stand along the edge of the flat plane, where there's a bit more room to shift around.

"I like the sound your hooves make," the dragon huffs.

"Oh, thanks. I liked the click of your teeth."

"Thanks."

There's another ten seconds or so of silence, and the shifting of the beast's claws grows slightly audible. But at least to the boar, it's not an uncomfortable silence, not really. Something about this thing in all its absurdity, its sheer size, the sharpness of its bladed face juxtaposed with its awkward expression, its fangs that jut out and give it a bit of a lisp, is really likable.

"I'm afraid that I like you." Why did I say that? What a stupid thing to say. You don't just tell people you like them. I wish you could.

"You don't have to be afraid of something like that," the dragon replies. This answer, while comforting, isn't convincing.

"I definitely do."

"You don't scare me."

"I'm not scary. I just like people a lot, but I'm not really good at showing it. I haven't had that many friends before, so I don't know how it works. I don't know how to connect with people, I don't know what I'm meant to say most of the time. Every version of myself that I've been before this very moment has been masked by some sort of complacency, some sort of veil of attempted normalcy that plagued me so deeply that I'd lost myself. And now I'm unpacking all these feelings I'd been trained to veil, and I don't know what to do with them. I'm not trying to complain or sound pathetic, it's not a self-pitying thing. I honestly like myself quite a bit, I just don't think I'm equipped for any of the situations I find myself in. I don't feel like the reality I was born into is one I can navigate so easily."

"Despite that, you've survived," says the dragon. "Though, you're kind of holding yourself back, don't you think?"

"Maybe so." I think of it just then, I think of what I have to do. It's the only way, really. Something I'd often been too stuck in my own head to ever really consider, and even on the rare occasion that I had, it didn't work out right. But the only way to find out if this time would be different is to try, and so I do. "Would you like to go sit on a rock with me somewhere?"

"A rock?"

"Yeah. Like, granite or something."

"I would love to. But um." The dragon shifts once more, this time with a bit more purpose as it leans in toward the boar. "I would still have to carry you. To get anywhere that has rocks, I mean."

"Oh." Ze hadn't really considered that, but the possibility of lounging in a dark enclosed space for a while was indeed enticing. "Yeah, that works."

"Anywhere that has rocks?"

"Anywhere that has rocks, yeah. Like a river or a forest or anything is fine, as long as we can both sit comfortably." The boar steps forward, a little cue that ze hopes might prompt the dragon, once again, to open up. Ze supposes its silly to rely on such things at this point. This, clearly, isn't someone who communicates through that muddling series of subtleties, a song and dance for which ze hadn't ever been quite able to get the footwork down, and yet would still attempt at times for the sake of acting as some sort of social chameleon.

It takes a second for the cue to click, or maybe the dragon is just unsure what to do with the near complete freedom of location. Eventually, it realizes it's time to go and opens its maw back up, and for the first time, the boar is able to see what's inside. To really see what's inside. Teal-green flesh and gums, metallic and slightly glittery in texture, accented pale minty green razor sharp teeth. A few are messy and chipped. And with that, the surface tension is broken, and the fluid of the beasts tongue engulfs hir, the wetness seeping into hir fur fully, not simply bouncing off. At first the sensation, alien and new, is unpleasant, and as ze squishes up against the beasts tongue as it closes its jaws around hir, ze shifts along the muscle and adjusts until a pattern settles. The grumbling of the great beast's throat as it lifts off. The relief of no longer teetering on that ledge as ze had so many times before. The fear that this might not last, that any expression of seeking longevity could come off as a bit too much for someone ze'd just met.

Though they hadn't just met, really, as ze recalled all the times before that the dragon had perched along that very ledge. Had it been the same one? Sometimes, probably. Not every time. This didn't really feel new, but it certainly felt more comfortable than times prior. Perhaps to credit this change to the dragon wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was hir own willingness to be vulnerable and ask the risky questions that rewarded hir with an experience that, while not new, didn't feel so scary this time. It feels stupid to admit that to myself in a way. I'd known all along that this would yield better results, so why, pray tell, was I so terrified? Why am I still so terrified?

Hir stomach drops as the beast's wings flap and it picks up speed, soaring through the endless sky, but its head stays mostly steady. And just as hir eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and the ridges along the roof of its mouth gleam a deep emerald jewel tone through the blackness, a beam of light shoots in with a gush of cold wind. The beast's teeth crack open just a bit, just enough to let the clouds enter its mouth and fill the space with dense fog, drenching hir in mist, the heat of the beast's body and the frost of the outside air swirling as one force of nature. The sensation reels through hir, and ze shudders as the beast's taste buds run along hir forearms. After it begins to run a bit cold, the teeth clack shut once again and dark warmth falls in again, that clicking sound of the sets of bones interlocking tingling in hir ears.

Something profound occurs to hir almost every day, it seems, and yet such things make progress only towards goals intangible to others. Something that lives in hir head and slams on a pane of glass and begs to be heard, but out loud it just sits there staring and waiting for an opportunity, waiting to be served something on a platter that isn't coming.

"I've known you for a long time, I think. I love you," says the boar. "I just want to tell you that, in case things go wrong somewhere down the line. I want you to know that, at least now, in this moment, I love you."

The dragon tries to respond, but finds that moving its tongue jostles the boar far too much, so it resorts simply to hugging the tiny creature with its tongue, curling each side up around hir body as a warm, wet blanket.

The silence is welcome this time.

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

[fuzziemutt]

On the views of Rio in relation to Miguel within fandom

There's something I'm commonly seeing that has been worrying me which is the depictions of Rio "latina mom-ing" Miguel.

This includes Rio:

- slapping him

- coming at him with "the chancla"

- "dressing him down" verbally or yelling

- humiliating him

- straight up just... Beating him up

And I'm bringing this up because guys... This shit be low-key racist. I know racism towards latines has already been a problem (Yes. I am gesturing to the everything that is how Miguel is treated within the fandom), but I personally wanted to bring up this issue as well as I'm unsure if others have talked about it- and we all know how suck ass searching anything on this site is.

Anyways, I won't lie. I don't know how many latines are making these jokes, but it being so prevalent being her "main" interactions makes me feel even if it started as a latine joke, it sure as hell didn't stay that way.

But the depiction of Latina women as fierce, aggressive and (yes it is) straight up physically abusive (in general words) is a major fucking Problem. Latinas are often depicted in media as these "feisty exotic women" who takes no shit. Perpetuating that with Rio does not feel as #girl power as you guys might think. It feels like a step back in treating latinas not as these power houses but as... Y'know... People who aren't depicted as aggressors 24/7....

But also I really hate this cutesy look at what is a serious issue within latine communities. It's always "ha ha funny" seeing a Latina mom beating someone's ass but guys. That is still physical abuse. That is a serious issue and discussion that is held within the latine community. And seeing it so casually assigned to Rio kind of makes me feel sick.

And this isn't even tacking on that you're having a Latina beating/acting aggressive towards a canonical child abuse survivor (yes. Miguel is a child abuse survivor.) Which adds a whole new layer of how shitty this actually is.

Because I hate how people are boiling Rio down to just being an aggressor towards Miguel to "put him in his place". That's discrediting her character so badly.

Yes, latinas can be strong. Yes, latinas can be angry. Yes, latinas can get aggressive.

These are things people are and do because people are complex.

But I really need the fandom to stop for a second and really think about how they saw Rio, witnessed her give her heart on the screen, - a mom who's trying so hard to break these cycles of yelling and humiliation with kindness and understanding (even being a foil to Jeff's strong headed approach on purpose) -

took her and said "she would perpetuate a real cycle of abuse towards a fellow latino because he's the 'bad one'" and laughed.

I know you guys are depicting her like this as a means to defend Miles, but maybe not like this. Her character doesn't deserve being so bastardized like this for your stolen joke.

(which this whole "need" to defend him in the first place points right back to the racism towards Miguel if we're honest. I have complex thoughts on Miguel's interactions with Miles especially involving the end train scene but boiling a traumatized Latino man down to just being an "aggressive threat" that needs to be "put in place" as I've mentioned above is racist as hell too.)

You guys can reblog this, but don't fucking guilt trip people into reblogging this okay? I'm not giving you brownie points for that shit.

[justheretoposttrash]

day 12 of the final endhawks: endhawkspocalypse:

the adhd side of my brain has taken over and decided that consistency can No Longer Happen, so i've decided to make this my last day of posting, at least when it comes to sequential daily posts. i'm still unhinged-ly working on endhawks-related things for the foreseeable future though, and always happy to talk about the ship!

here's a final hodgepodge of thoughts!

part 1 - more ch430 positives

the continued use of a ranked *number system* in particular is silly imo (ig the masses do love a catchy numbered list). but at the very least, i gotta appreciate that the main characters didn't get top rankings straight outta school--when i think about how old they are post-timeskip compared to hawks, especially! bbygirl got #2 at 22 but was child-soldiered into it and was absolutely breaking his proverbial back. it's really not an aspirational thing to beat, and it's not something the main characters have to achieve to be "cool" or fulfilled narratively. they focused on their happiness, instead--shoto on finding his own identity and balancing his life thanks to his support system, bakugo on getting his boyfriend/whatever/queerplatonic-died-in-each-others'-arms-on-a-battlefield-in-a-past-life-and-now-they-keep-reincarnating-together soul-partners/rival back at his side so they can keep pushing each other, etc.! mirio's ascent notwithstanding, it's a healthy nugget from the final chap.

another cute thing from 430 is when hawks jokes that nagant is a villain. this joke has layers to it, considering both had to take on the villain label because of the commission, also contributing to their respective traumas under the commission. (they both even had someone cradle them in their arms shouting that they were still a hero despite them being at their low points--and physically very crispy. one of those someones being hawks himself, ofc.)

next, i gotta appreciate how unfettered hawks's facial expressions have become (also, his under-eyes are already thicker and darker, bro needs to sleep 😭) compared to how subdued they were in the twice fight (and to be clear, his expressions still screamed volumes then. i love how they're drawn to convey so much nuance in his emotions). once he was cut free from the commission, he stopped putting on a smile while doing hero work (there wasn't much to smile about post-raid, but pre-raid i'd argue things were bleak for him already, so at least he doesn't feel the need to put on as many airs). he also started actively sweating and showing fear, but without losing more genuine displays of confidence and happiness. (all this makes me very curious if his speech patterns have also changed in the original japanese to any extent compared to how they were at his introduction)

part 2 - dabi=endhawks truther?!?! *not clickbait*

i remember it being kinda hilarious that dabi tossed out hawks's history as an extra "fuck you" to endeavor, but i forgot how direct he is about his intentions.

he's just like, "yeah, i specifically wanted to drag hawks (and reveal his betrayal and hopefully shake your faith in him) to hurt you, dad. even though you two have hung out, like, maybe twice (may he rest in peace) in your whole lives. trust me, i knew this would be devastating for you. don't ask me how i know." like. touya my man. what are you doing. also thank you. almost makes the angst-lover in me wish he'd added a "don't worry about hawks, dad. you'll be joining him soon" right before attacking him with prominence burn to twist the knife, though understandably that would've convoluted the spotlight when the focus was meant to be on family and the touya reveal. but goddamn, just imagine.

he basically did the exact same thing to hawks by telling him his identity. in revealing a name that could only hold any significance to hawks through its relation to endeavor and what touya's existence implies about him, touya wielded a secret from endeavor's past to psychologically hurt hawks and shake his faith. it's just wild that he did it to both of them, pulled off flawlessly and with maximum drama, in rapid succession. legendary.

anyway, ppl tend to portray dabi as an endhawks anti, when funnily he's kinda more on the side of enjoying the fact they have a connection--granted, mainly as a thing to leverage to hurt them, bc he fuckin despises them (and granted, hatred in dabi's eyes is a complicated thing)--but still! he ain't in denial about endeavor's and hawks's relationship, he's an og! he's first in line! this makes his daddy issue allegations so much worse, but he doesn't care! and honestly i owe my life to him for his service in unearthing the truth; he's doing canon, in-text work to forcefeed the public endhawks crumbs that they didn't even want, and he deserves our utmost respect 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

part 3 - our hero academia ft. protective enji

my mind was too wrapped up in The Plot to notice the subtleties of when Press Conference Lady yells at endeavor post-raid--for one thing, i realize on a second read that she's actually kinda yelling at hawks. so much of the emphasis is on endeavor's past actions that i didn't pick up on a few key details. for one, when hawks discusses his murder of jin, the visual centers endeavor's reaction, solemn but accepting/calm.

secondly, Press Con Lady speaks up right after hawks is done talking. thirdly, what she describes--not looking sorry, empty-seeming apologies, incompetence in the face of villains--apply as criticisms equally to hawks as they do to endeavor (notably not to jeanist, as he doesn't have a past or scandalous behavior to answer for).

it's also at this time that endeavor looks more angry (just look at his frown in the panel above!) and actually gives some pricklier-sounding pushback, when before he was mainly resolved and remorseful.

notably, he's translated as saying "we" and "our". ofc he's paying respect to his colleagues at large as well, but considering Press Con's criticisms are pointed most specifically and apply most to hawks and himself, he's strongly implying and acknowledging the pain that hawks has been through.

as he goes on to speak, the word choice shifts away from "us" and "we" to "me" as he claims responsibility for what happens next and urges peoples' slings and arrows to aim at him alone--again, for the sake of his colleagues and family at large, but particularly for hawks in this moment.

the undercurrents are so understated in this scene, but the degree to which endeavor shifts the language and focus away from hawks and onto himself is profound. throughout mha, we've got plenty of thought bubbles showing how hawks feels about endeavor in outright terms, but not as many from endeavor about hawks, especially after all their dirty laundry gets aired out. but even without thought bubbles, how he feels about hawks even at the worst of times becomes perfectly clear.

(god they drive me insane lmao)

[starmocha]

Hi there. I'm back with theory #3 for Sylus' myth. Which....might be less evidence-heavy than the first two and really just me talking out of my ass. I started writing at midnight because that's just on brand clown behavior of me 🙃 ANYWAY...

People who haven't read Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne's myths, please tread carefully, because I will touch upon them briefly and allude to events in their myths.

Quick recap from first post:

Theory 1: Sylus and MC must have been destined lovers in a past life, but due to whatever conflict, Sylus decided to break his bond with her for her protection and accept any punishment that comes with it, which could mean to be ruler of a place he has no desire for, an imprisonment of sort.

Theory 2: Destined lovers, but perhaps a third party interfered out of jealousy or spite. Could Sylus have been caught and framed of a crime and been literally imprisoned, thus forcing him and MC to separate?

So...I half-joked in a post that my new theory is that Sylus sold his soul to the devil. Or, you know, maybe he is the devil himself. This is partly stemmed from the Long-Awaited Revelry trailer, which has the word "demon" over a shot of him and later in the same trailer, one of Sylus' companion forms is aptly titled "Otherworldly Visitor". Make of that as you will.

And with the new trailer for No Defense Zone, we see that Sylus' right eye glows in a demonic way, similar to his in the LAR trailer. Even the atmosphere in both scenes seem a bit supernatural. Now....I didn't want to go there, but, um................do you suppose he is an incubus? 😭😭😭 The shot after "demon" has the word "desire," which can have a sexual connotation.

For those who don't know, an incubus is a male demon who preys on women sexually.......it would explain his kinky behavior in NDZ 💀 but I digress.......

Some of the first lines we hear from Sylus:

"Even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone who can pay the price."

"Want some help? Yes? No? Maybe so?"

These lines reinforce the idea of "deal with the devil". In the new theme song, Visions opposées, the singer also sings this line: "Mais c'est le prix à payer" (But that's the price to pay). It could just be figurative, or it could hold some literal truth, because I found it interesting how that verse overlaps with Sylus' scenes. I doubt it's a coincidence since the devs are so good at planting seeds.

From the chorus, in order, we hear:

[MINOR RAFAYEL, XAVIER, & ZAYNE SPOILERS]

"But that's the price to pay / o'love" - Rafayel, God of the Sea, is separated by MC. His price? His civilization.

"Stars will always shine / But with pain" - Xavier and MC are separated (side note: I don't have the second half of Xavier's first myth yet, so I can't elaborate too much. But I've seen enough references to understand the scene depicted in the MV)

"Though separated / Hearts cling on" - Zayne (The Foreseer) is separated from MC in many lifetimes. The memories of their love are tied to the jasmine flowers even if they forget.

[END SPOILERS]

"That's the price to pay / Yet lovers endure forevermore"

This is the verse that plays over Sylus' scene. What is his price? Does the following verse mean that he and MC must always endure something? Hardship? Misfortune?

When the chorus repeats a second time near the end, all of the above verses coincide with the intended love interest. It absolutely can be argued that all four love interests paid a price for their love, and not just Sylus. This whole tangent was brought up to follow with the whole "deal with the devil" aspect. As stated previously, I wouldn't be surprised if the devs and songwriters intended for the lyrics to have layers upon layers of meaning in relation to the stories.

Also take into consideration the lyrics from the song in Sylus' first official trailer, Tangible Shackles:

The outlaw again celebrates this encounter in fate It's time to break the seal they set in mind It's time they will have to pay the price

To me, though, in this song, the verse sounds very vengeful. It sounds almost vindictive, as if someone must be punished for whatever wrongdoing done against Sylus.

Watching the interview for Visions opposées, it seems the LADS team has shared enough of the intended stories for the songwriters to understand and pen the songs we hear. I trust that there will be complete clarity to the lyrics once we're able to understand Sylus' myth.

Love is the privilege of mortals

A gift the gods covet in vain

Astra, you ass, is that you

Now remember the first official trailer for Sylus? Yeah. Long-Awaited Revelry. Do you know what "revelry" mean? 'Cause I sure as heck didn't and kept wanting to read it as rivalry

revelry. noun. a situation in which people are drinking, dancing, singing, etc. at a party or in public, especially in a noisy way. — Cambridge Dictionary

To put it simply, "long-awaited party," which with the new knowledge of the timeline of scenes shown, we can clearly see a scene of MC entering a ballroom where Sylus is at in the trailer.

What type of party is this? Long-awaited? Maybe an engagement? In the MV, you can catch a brief glimpse of guests in the background watching MC enter. It seems almost like Sylus is waiting to show her off. The dance they share also seem intimate, and Sylus' expression is very soft and tender.

Previously, I alluded that it looks like MC and Sylus' wrist are bounded by a thread, similar to the Red Thread of Fate, but afterwards, I had my doubts, and if in keeping with the theme of being trapped, perhaps they were actually cuffed? I have previously mentioned that handcuffs have shown up often in the trailers.

To be cuffed together makes it seem like it wasn't a choice for one or both people. Kind of pondering if maybe MC might have sold her soul to Sylus, thus becoming bounded to him?

I have also made a lot of references to the myth of Hades and Persephone previously (still holding onto it with every fiber of my being tbqh), BUT for the sake of this third theory, let's revise the above scene to mean...

Sylus, a demonic creature, is trapped on the dark side while MC is a mortal on the light side (mortal realm). He knows their love can never be, so he forces whatever bond they made together to break, setting her free to remain in the mortal realm while he remains trapped in the Underworld.

Interestingly, Sylus conjures up a gun, pressing it to his chest where his heart would be. And he makes MC shoot him. ....thus breaking their bond? Or killing him idk man

This appears to be the following appearance of him after he is shot in his chair:

I'm sorry if this seems out of left field and my mind works in a weird way, but.....the scene above kind of made me think of the Roman/Greek myth for Cupid/Eros and Psyche. Rather, I was thinking of the scene where after her jealous sisters manipulated her and planted seeds of doubts, Psyche betrays her husband's trust and broke her promise to not view his face and learn of his identity. She carries a dagger with the intention of killing him.

In the aforementioned myth, Psyche does journey into the Underworld during a final trial set forth by Cupid/Eros' mother, Venus/Aphrodite. Other than that, there might not be many other correlations I can make in regard to the scene depicted in Visions opposées.

Speaking of Cupid (Roman name, but aka Eros in Greek mythology), however, it's also worth noting that Cupid was described as a "demon of fornication" by some mythographers. Take this part with a grain of salt since this was due to adapting the Roman myth for Christian usage. I do, however, vaguely recalled in some Greek/Roman myths, Eros/Cupid was viewed as devious by the other gods due to him being able to make both mortals and the gods fall in love depending on his whims, be it out of mischievousness or malice.

So....Cupid....God of desire....erotic love.............that earlier incubus comment I made?? 😭 This part I am definitely pulling out of my ass. 💀 Let's just wrap this post up. 🫠

If we look at the myth from the angle that Sylus is a demon, then....

Theory 3: Sylus is a demon who has come across MC, and for whatever reason, she is desperate to make a deal with a demon, thus bounding herself to him. Perhaps over time, Sylus grows to adore her, but maybe MC betrays his trust, whether it be intentional or at the manipulation of others? Could he have tested her when he made her shoot him? Was he willing to die for her, even if it's at her hands?

Uhhhh.....yeah. This theory seems more far-fetched. 🫠 Well, thanks for your time! If any of the crumbs I've presented stirred any theories from you all, I'd love to hear it! Bye. 💕

[average-hyperfixator]

Ted rant bc I haven't done one in a moment and I have to uphold my status as #1 Ted enjoyer and enthusiast

I still claw at the walls and floor every time I see Ted's character dumbed down or simplified (IT'S FINE IF IT'S FOR JOKES BUT LIKE... I'm worried some of you are serious when you start saying all he did was use women..... did we read the same backstory.........)

I feel like a lot of his backstory and how he GOT to the point of essentially being a full-time playboy just gets. overlooked. Like he didn't just wake up one day and decide to scam women NO!! It was a "choice" made after an awful childhood!!! And after pretty much getting groomed!!! I put choice in quotation marks because he literally didn't have even a high school education so he could either slave away on his family farm until he died (he already spent his ENTIRE childhood working for his family!!) OR he could use the skills he was taught over the 5 years he spent with that now dead rich woman!!! Like what would you choose if we're being honest???

To be clear, it doesn't excuse or defend his actions but like I am BEGGING for ya'll to just. at least make an effort to put yourself in his shoes. yeah idk maybe the guy who's been using his body as a sex object for rich older women since he was 19 might have a warped view on sex!!!! Maybe that explains why he's confused and upset when he doesn't get any "return" because it's always been transactional for him!!!! Crazy thought ik!!!!

again it does not excuse or defend anything but looking into his backstory can at least help you understand what his likely mental reasoning for everything is rather than just dumbing him down to a misogynistic asshole. Ted has LAYERS and you WILL look at them! GRR!!! Ted doodles to accompany this (my mildly altered design for him)

I haven't drawn him and Aubrey together in a hot second so have them actually liking each other hehe I love Ted you guys don't get it YOU DON'T GET HIM LIKE I DO!! RARGH!!

anyway it's 11:25 PM uhhhh hit post

[thelostgirl21]

Alright, so this is a reply to @my-jokes-are-my-armour brilliant additions to my post, because the original one was getting insanely long, and apparently I had lots of feels about this, but asfoljasdfklsf;asldkfas;flkjasdlkjffslksjdf;s...

That "maybe"...

There are so many possible "layers" to that "maybe"!

And that's definitely one the places where Jaskier and Radovid's respective situations massively differ in that scene, too, IMHO.

Like you've said, Jaskier has a found family that he's spent about 20+ years investing in.

So, obviously, it would make absolutely no sense for him to sacrifice the ties he's already built with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri, for a relationship that does have great potential, but is still in its infancy; whereas Radovid has made no such personal commitments in his life.

I don't know if you're familiar with the YouTube channel "Cinema Therapy" (basically, a psychologist and filmmaker analysing various movie relationships, characters psychology, etc. I highly recommend it!), but they've occasionally spoken about the notion of "shelving your agenda".

Essentially, "shelving your agenda" relates to a person's ability to "temporarily delay one's own needs to meet those of another".

And, in this particular situation, the only one of them that can afford to shelve his own agenda for the other is Radovid.

Because, at that moment, Jaskier is facing the possibility of devastating potential losses within his family system that greatly threaten his emotional and psychological well-being.

Radovid can (or at least could, while Vizimir was the one still wearing that crown) afford to be the one providing him with emotional, physical and financial support to give Jaskier his best chance at being reunited with those he loves.

But Jaskier can't really promise or offer Radovid anything in return for the time being.

And sadly, he doesn't know how bad things are for Radovid at court, either.

He doesn't know that Philippa and Dijkstra orchestrated Queen Hedwig's murder, right under King Vizimir's nose, with such confidence in their ability to get away with it that they openly told the Crown Prince of Redania about it!

He doesn't know about Radovid's relationship dynamic with his brother, and the fact that being the King's little brother is no longer enough to keep Radovid safe in that castle.

And I don't think Jaskier fully grasps just how much being in his presence is already offering Radovid something that's rather essential for his own emotional and psychological well-being, too, that he has never been able to find anywhere else.

Jaskier: "You don't understand. [This is not me trying to walk away from a relationship with you.] The war brewing outside is nothing compared to what Geralt will unleash on this Continent to find his daughter. [I'm pretty much planning to go throw myself headfirst into some desperate suicide mission with a stubborn, insanely protective Witcher dad!] I don't know what happens next. [I've no idea what will happen to me. Out there, none of us will be safe!]"

Radovid: [Oh boy! Where do I even start?] "Just let me be there with you." [Trust me, as terrible as you are trying to make it sound, joining you on a suicide mission following an angry overprotective Witcher around is actually my safest, least bad option.] "Prove that I'm more than a mask." [I belong with you and your family out there, not stuck at court playing games!]

Basically, I've a feeling that Jaskier might be operating under the belief that the safest place for the Crown Prince of Redania to be, in times of war with Nilfgaard, is behind the well guarded walls of a castle; not running around the Continent helping him and Geralt go rescue a Princess!

If he returns to Tretogor and stay there, Radovid will have an entire army standing between him and Nilfgaard!

Which, you know, is pretty much the reason that had convinced him that Ciri might be better off in Redania rather than anywhere else...

If he comes with him, well, Radovid is probably one of the last people you'd want anyone loyal to Nilfgaard to get their hands on.

The King's brother - and sole current living heir to the throne (at the time) - is very much someone that Redania's enemies would want to capture so they can use as leverage against the King.

And Jaskier's pretty much planning on being Geralt's ride or die companion on his quest to find Ciri.

So, I'm not sure how comfortable Jaskier is with the possibility of Radovid getting himself captured by enemies or killed trying to help them out there; or, even worse, winding up sacrificing his life to save Jaskier's.

Because Radovid has already proven that he values Jaskier's safety and freedom above his own, when he ditched his whole (now very dead) royal security detail to go see him and Ciri at the cabin.

Radovid is willing to make Jaskier his #1 priority, in a situation where Jaskier needs to make Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri his own #1 priority.

Jaskier is planning to "shelve his agenda" for his family, to the point of being willing to risk sacrificing his life for them…

…while Radovid is talking about "shelving his agenda" for Jaskier, while being willing to risk sacrificing his life for him, and - by extension - Jaskier's family, too.

It's likely a lot for Jaskier to take in.

And, perhaps, knowing that Radovid - at least - would be safe back in his castle, would give Jaskier some peace of mind, and even something for him to fight to come back to, should he somehow succeed in helping Geralt get Ciri back without managing to get himself killed in the process!

So, Jaskier's "maybe" is likely the most sincere answer Jaskier can give him at the moment, since Jaskier genuinely doesn't know what happens next, and he probably doesn't want Radovid to make the decision to take such a huge risk for himself and his family based on the promise of things that he might never be given the chance to offer him.

Had Jaskier known that the greatest threat Radovid was facing could be found within his castle's well guarded walls, his response to Radovid's desire to be there with him might have been different.

Perhaps he might have said something along the lines of "Forget about the money, and if you really want to come with me, come with me now! We'll think of a way to let your brother know you're relatively safe, and haven't been killed or kidnapped while we're on the road!", or something.

And then, hope his own family would understand why he chose to take Radovid with him, and for them hopefully to not be upset that he's just managed to make their whole situation even more complicated than it already was.

[Poor Geralt though…

Geralt: Let me get this straight… Of all the people on the Continent you could have romantically fallen for, you somehow managed to pick the Crown Prince of Redania? And now, the prince - who comes from a bad home that has been mistreating him - has been following you outside his castle, and you're asking if we can adopt and keep him?

Jaskier: *Smiles sheepishly and attempts to look adorable.* Yes?

Geralt: *Mumbling to himself.* Why does Destiny fucking hate me so much? How many princes and princesses am I supposed to be looking after? I'm a Witcher, for fuck's sake! I'm supposed to be killing monsters! Not opening a royal rescue shelter…

Radovid: *Concerned.* Ah, is your Witcher okay?

Jaskier: Just give him a moment to have a mental breakdown, and he'll be fine!]

But Jaskier doesn't know how bad things are for Radovid back at Tretogor.

Actually, even Radovid himself doesn't fully know!

As far as Radovid is concerned, Dijkstra briefly perceived him as a threat - or at least a nuisance - with regards to the complete and absolute influence he has on King Vizimir, and threatened to have him killed if he gets in their way.

So, by leaving, he'd technically be doing him a favor! No more "baby prince brother" royalsitting for Dijkstra and Philippa! They can go back to the way they've always preferred doing things, without having Radovid to deal with!

But Radovid doesn't know his brother has decided to let Philippa take the fall for Thanedd, and that the best solution the sorceress came up with, to deal with the issue, is "Yup! Imma get rid of Vizimir and put that spare on the throne!"

On a scale of 0 to "the spymasters are so confident they can get away with regicide that they feel totally comfortable making the guy they gleefully confessed Queen Hedwig's murder to King", just how fucking screwed are you?

I don't think Radovid had fully realised he'd reached that very last stage yet.

But yeah, Jaskier answering "maybe" made much more sense, to me, than him going "yes please, come with me, where I'll almost certainly manage to get you and/or myself killed in a desperate attempt to keep my family safe!"

And I love how long he hesitates before giving that answer, and the way his thoughts really appear to be racing, even after he says "maybe", because it is an incredibly complex and multi-factorial situation for him to deal with.

Whereas Radovid has essentially two choices:

Return to a loveless, toxic, dangerous place where he's totally disconnected from himself, and isolated from healthy human interactions.

Be out there in the world, risking his life for something - someone - that's worth taking those risks for, thus acting in accordance with who he is, and what matters to him the most.

So, Radovid basically saying "I'm all in! Let's go!", while Jaskier is saying "maybe", to me, might have more to do with how well they are both ready to handle and accept the potential consequences of Radovid choosing to go with Jaskier at that moment; than it has to do with how much they both desire to have the chance to potentially be together, or even Jaskier struggling with forgiving him.

Of course, there's also Jaskier's own personal fears (of abandonment, of falling back into unhealthy codependent patterns, etc.) that may play a role in him hesitating to treat his feelings for Radovid as a full-fledged partnership right away, and being comfortable with the idea of trusting Radovid enough to rely on him for support, too (trust and forgiveness are not quite the same thing).

That "maybe" is filled with so much potential delicious meanings, I'm telling you!

And, given that being told "maybe" didn't deter Radovid from wanting to go to Jaskier, I've a feeling that Radovid knew that Jaskier's "maybe" was also filled with a lot of hope and yearning, and as close to a "yes" as Jaskier could afford to offer him.

After all, he'd already told Radovid that his plans [of breaking things off between them] had changed.

When Radovid said "I don't get it", Jaskier could have answered him with: "it's the right thing to do", or "I may no longer want to see you, that doesn't mean I wish you to get hurt, Radovid", or "I owe you for having ditched - and now lost - your guards when you came to see me. This is me doing what I can do to pay back the favor."

But Jaskier said "plans change", with some of the most cautiously hopeful and vulnerable puppy dog eyes I've ever seen him throw at anyone.

To me, there was a sense of forgiveness and a bit of an apology, even, in Jaskier's expression at that moment…

Because the fact remains that Jaskier didn't offer Radovid his help, the night before, when he told him he was scared; resulting in Jaskier having allowed Radovid to back himself into that corner where people might say and do stupid things.

It would be a bit unfair for Jaskier to be upset with Radovid for not having trusted him with everything he knew when he came to see him and Ciri, when Jaskier himself was so scared to trust Radovid that he didn't call him out for having avoided to directly answer his question, and instead chose to test what he'd do with the information that the forcefield only lasted 'til dawn.

He's accusing Radovid of not fully trusting him and having kept his full intentions from him, when Jaskier himself literally set up a trap for him, because he was too scared to trust him…

And Radovid had the honesty of saying "I'm scared, Jaskier", at the very least. Whereas Jaskier kept his own fears to himself, and chose to play games and test him.

Granted, Radovid could have pretended to be scared to get Jaskier to lower his defenses, and manipulate him. I'm not saying that Jaskier didn't have very valid reasons for choosing to test him, rather than opting for a direct confrontation.

Trust eventually does become essential in a relationship, but it would be unrealistic to expect it to "magically be there" until both sides have experienced how the other responds in a variety of situations - including their ability to make each other still feel safe while they handle conflicts and mistakes.

So, I'm not pointing out Jaskier's own contribution to this whole mess while trying to determine who is to blame, who was wrong, or who hurt the other the most.

Just hoping that, maybe, Jaskier is allowing himself to recognize that they are both very flawed, complex and human individuals that never meant to hurt each other at that moment.

That part of the reasons why he sits down and looks at Radovid with such a sad, defeated expression, is that he's realizing that they were simply dealing and coping with their own respective fears and doubts as best they could back at the cabin, and got both a good, strong bite in the arse as a result!

When Radovid ran away from the cabin earlier, Jaskier made a little move as if instinctively wanting to run after him.

I think that, maybe, in all of the ways Jaskier might have expected their confrontation to go when "catching Radovid in the act" that morning, he might have imagined facing more outrage from Radovid, more fight…

He might have expected for him to start blaming him in return, etc.

Because, had Radovid indeed been a "knife" and wearing a mask with Jaskier, he might have played "meek" and attempted to "reason with" Jaskier in the beginning in a desperate last ditch attempt to hold onto his mask, sure!

But, when he'd realised it didn't work - and Jaskier would not be so easily fooled - the mask would eventually have had to come off!

Radovid could easily have pretended that he had only wanted to test if Jaskier was being sincere with him.

He could have claimed that he'd realised, the night before, that Jaskier had only let him know about when the forcefield would come down, because he'd never truly cared about him, nor trusted him!

And low and behold! He was right!

Radovid could have accused Jaskier of having been dishonest and manipulative with him, of only having ever pretended to care for him, so he could use him because of his wealth and position at court.

He could have mocked Jaskier for having claimed that "he had no desire" to be playing games with him through his song, only to then go on scheming against him, and setting up traps for him at the first opportunity he got!

A skilled "knife", caught in a lie, will not admit to any wrongdoing, and will make it sound like you're the villain, they're the victim, and the problem lies with you, not them.

But Radovid's response was being truthful in his answers, internalize Jaskier's blame, look like he'd just been kicked, utter a pitiful "I'm so sorry," and run away!

Unless you are someone that enjoy dominating other people and bringing them down (something I do not believe Jaskier does), there's no sense of triumph, or even validation to be derived from Radovid's response!

There's no sense of relief from "having escaped being fooled by such a manipulative and dangerous individual" to be found!

Radovid just took all the blame on himself, brokenly apologized for having managed to hurt and disappoint Jaskier, and ran away thinking he'd forever lost him.

Had Jaskier's priority not been to ensure Ciri's safety, I think he might have followed his impulse and gone after Radovid to attempt to get to the bottom of what was actually happening.

And, even should he have suspected that Radovid's behavior was yet another manipulation attempt - that Radovid would be patient enough to hold onto his mask a while longer while faking taking responsibility for his mistakes and hurting Jaskier…

There's absolutely no way Radovid could have predicted that Jaskier was going to come investigate the room he'd huddled himself into a dark corner to cry.

So, I like to think that Jaskier did regret his harsh words, the way he'd jumped to conclusions back at the cabin, and how he'd cut short Radovid's attempt to explain, as soon as he'd mentioned that he'd be out from under Dijkstra's thumb.

I like to think that Jaskier was sorry for the way he'd hurt Radovid, too, and that he realised that he'd let his own fears and issues get the best of him.

Now, it's up to them to decide if they'll allow their respective fears and issues to win; or instead let that deep, beautiful and delicate connection that they've been experiencing together come out on top.

So, since "the plan" was for Radovid to have seen the last of Jaskier…

I tend to interpret Jaskier saying "plans change" as a way of telling Radovid "I don't want this to be the last you see of me. If you'll still have me, when this is over, I'd like to come back to you."

With Radovid's immediate response being "Come with me, then."

Because Radovid does very much still want Jaskier.

Except Jaskier has a family he needs to go help first, before he can be free to go back to Radovid and continue to explore and deepen that relationship.

And OMFG, yes! Found families are a theme that I absolutely adore in virtually any form of media (perhaps because I had to leave my own family of origin behind to go find "my own tribe")…

By the way, do you have that season 3 review link nearby? I'm not sure if I had the chance to read it yet, or if it somehow managed to pass me by… But I'd be interested to have a first or second read at it!

Otherwise, I pretty much found myself just nodding along while reading your comments.

I definitely think that, the first time Radovid meets Jaskier, he's deeply intrigued by him and how he personally connects with his songs, but still a bit in a "playing games" mindframe, because that's just the way his world is, and has always been, and how people communicate.

And now, I'm amazed, because you've just made me realise that, when Jaskier came to see Radovid wanting to share intel with him, it could very much have made it look like he only cared about Radovid's position, wealth, and resources; rather than about Radovid himself!

In many ways, Jaskier is 100% aware that the Crown Prince of Redania "fancies him", and I think that, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be above taking advantage of that attraction to help protect his family.

To be clear, I don't think Jaskier would ever look to manipulate the emotions of anyone that would be having sincere, non-entitled, and reciprocal feelings for him.

But a royal that would be looking to own, use, or control him? I think he'd be feeling perfectly justified using his own charms to get what he wants from them.

He tells Vespula "you can't play a player", therefore very much perceiving himself as "a player", in a sense.

And, given that nobles often have an inflated ego and sense of self-importance, "playing them" is typically not that hard to do.

But Radovid does not.

He is far from immune to Jaskier's charms, but he does not perceive him as a some type of potential "trophy lover" or conquest. He's genuinely curious about him, and wishes to better get to know and understand him.

In such a context, trust should normally go both ways.

Jaskier tells Philippa and Radovid that, if they get rid of Rience, they will have earned Ciri's, Geralt's, and his own trust (and he talks about winning his own trust while pointedly looking at Radovid)…

But what is Jaskier willing to do to earn Radovid's trust in return?

You've just made me realise that, while I often tend to remind myself that there is lot that the audience knows about Radovid that Jaskier himself doesn't…

Well, there is also a lot that the audience knows about Jaskier that Radovid himself simply doesn't, too.

Sure, Jaskier's initial response towards learning that Radovid was the Crown Prince of Redania was rather flattering and amusing, especially since it brought a certain balance to the way Radovid himself was slightly starstruck by Jaskier.

Rockstar meets royalty, basically… and forgets to let his hand go, much to royalty's delight!

But, once that initial moment has passed, does Jaskier still only sees Radovid as a prince - with all the privileges tied to his position that he could use for his own gain - or a person that's worth knowing, too?

We all assume that Jaskier's motives are honorable, because we know him, but Radovid only knows about Jaskier's songs and what little he's been able to pick up from him during two rather short encounters.

In that context, Jaskier showing up all "So, I hear you've got money! Maybe you could use it to get the two detectives to talk, and help Geralt and I find out who Rience is working for?" could actually be… borderline insulting?

Technically, it wouldn't, if Radovid was into such things as power and influence, wanted to find Ciri for himself rather than to please his brother, and Jaskier's suggestion was helping him get closer to something he really wished to get closer to besides the man standing right before him.

Again, Jaskier doesn't know that; so, there's a bit of an ongoing comedy of errors happening between these two this season.

And he doesn't know that Radovid doesn't actually have that much money "ready to be handed out" like that, either.

That Radovid would have to first sell some of his own belongings to pay for that intel.

Jaskier's basically prancing right into the palace while making a bunch of (albeit flirtatious) assumptions about Radovid - most of them kinda wrong / only half right - and it's really no wonder Radovid himself would be unwilling to "collaborate" with him so easily, admit to what he knows, and instead choose to initially continue to play dumb/drunk!

To be fair, most nobles would likely love to be reminded of their wealth, status and power, and go "Oh yeah, I've got money and I'm so important, uwu!"

They would likely welcome any opportunity to put it on display and use it to further seduce Jaskier! Normally, a prince should have favorably responded to Jaskier's innuendos...

Whereas Radovid's pretty much "Yes, yes, very interesting… Now, enough about me, let's talk about you! Here's your lute, may I humbly ask you to sing about what you prefer singing the most? Please?Maybe your white-haired Witcher? I really want to get to know you…"

And look, the fact that Jaskier got his crush to agree to help him because he was moved by his singing, cares about him, and has made it his personal mission in life to learn to better understand what makes him so special, must be so much more satisfying to Jaskier’s than it being because Radovid likes to display his wealth and feel influential and important!

I mean, look at that face...

He's just so pleased with the unexpected way things turned out...

[auschizm]

Just wanted to share a reflection on a nice little area of autism+schizo-overlap

I’m autistic and my best friend is auschitzic and I’ve found that I understand so called “word salad” better than others. (Not just in my friend but also in people I met in the soup kitchen and others who have it)

My pet theory is that perhaps with autism, there are less perceived notions about what someone should say.

I feel others get distracted by the projection that the person “isn’t making sense” rather than just listen.

I think it’s a nice moment of solidarity. We have so much more in common than apart. Especially in the struggles with communication. In many ways we have very similar needs too

Sensory needs, needs for predictability, need for routines, need for very clear instructions, cognitive support.

I see it as auschizm mirrors my experience a LOT and at the same time that the overlap adds an extra layer of marginalization which makes it so that when fighting for freedom, against the coercion and other flaws in healthcare, I see it as us who are autistic or otherwise disabled needing to listen to auschizic and schizospectrum people first.

Oftentimes auschizic people experience everything I do (miscommunication with doctors, coercion while outpatient, financial punishments for cognitive deficits, dehumanization, etc) but a hundred fold.

Similar; same type of things. But at the same time completely different; we who are autistic and only experience minor symptoms of other things from time to time, we have to understand that there are levels of incarceration and violence that we dont have to deal with due to not being schizospec

The way I see it this gives us a moral obligation. To fight in our day to day lives for the dignity of our schizospectrum siblings.

We have to speak up when people stereotype and fearmonger. We have to be vocal in our critiques against psychiatry. We have to fight to make the world accessible for all of us.

Rather than mask because we understood that what was said was meant as a joke, if it was cruel or “unreality” we should still demand it be explained.

Be outspoken about all of the cultural discrimination and misconceptions with our friends who might be even further removed from psychiatry than we are.

It’s like a set of circles where my auschizic friend can tell me about the experiences they heard from others even more marginalized who were in the ward. They are in the middle of the circle. Then is my friend who is mostly outpatient. Who can talk to me. Next circle is people who are neurodivergent but “functioning”; maybe they have jobs and stuff. So I can talk to them. Then those people can talk to people at their jobs etc who are even further removed

We can each do our work in fighting to create spaces. When we are in social spaces, that in and out of itself, is a privilege. We can fight to try to fit others in these social spaces

Sorry about the very long and rambly ask. There are many thoughts on this subject that I have yet to articulate

I guess what I wanted to say was thank you for making this blog. Thank you for creating this space.

It is so important that this gets talked about

Im extremely grateful to get the opportunity to read about even more auschizic experiences and learn more about the perspective

Thank you so much

Solidarity

🤝🤝🤝

This ask is making my morning. I really appreciate your compassion and solidarity! Although I gotta note that I don't believe in simple hierarchies of oppression and discrimination. Like I wouldn't say that a low support needs auschiztic person who is stable and functional enough to live alone and work is inherently more oppressed than a nonverbal high support needs autistic person who needs extensive support and supervision simply because the person in the first scenario has two diagnoses instead of one.

[happyely2]

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ | The rating will be red this time, so if you are a minor skip this reading or highlight your age in your bio.| sex scenes, cuddles, and much more very explicit.

Summary: 31 prompts for 31 days of October. Life on Moby Dick is always hectic and has become more so since Ace boarded this ship and became part of the family.

✒️Prompts taken from the contest (even if I don't participate) organized by the Italian Fanwriter page. I only translated the prompts into English, I hope you like it.✒️

🌊Writober PumpSea🌊 #day 4 - Still

There are times when Ace clings to you so hard that it hurts your heart. Because your love has every now and then moments not as big as the whole ship and you don’t know what to do, Ace does not talk to you but sinks even more his fingers inside your hips to leave the mark of his presence and gives you no respite until you scratch him to blood on his back to bring him back to reality.

And that’s when you see his eyes veiled with a thick layer of poorly concealed melancholy.

The thrusts of Ace do not slow down, indeed increasing even more and kisses you as if that were your last day together and it hurts, so bad that you can not hold it to you to seek id make him understand the opposite.

"Did something happen between you?" Izo noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the last nights were quite turbulent, nightmares, reassurances, anxiety and so much fear that led you to make love in a violent and painful way.

Ace was very different, there was something that worried him and that he didn’t want to talk about and the night before when you cried out in pain everything was cracked even more.

"We didn’t fight, don’t worry, Izo… Ace has something he won’t tell me." You said looking back on the night before, Ace apologized to you, his voice was tense and he was panicked, he held you to apologize, and you tried to reassure him, but in vain.

"Go ahead and tell your big brother everything." The man told you by sitting next to you and checking that there was nobody around, for those discussions it was better not to have the presence of Satch or that of Marco, Izo was the best to talk about couple problems and was much quieter than the other two.

You took a deep breath and leaned on him: "Well, for now… let’s say in bed it’s a disaster. Ace seems to be absent when we do it or has the look so sad that I don’t recognize him or worse sometimes it’s so… so violent, but not in a bad way, that hurts me and then he feels guilty and I try to reassure him but… but he runs away and won’t tell me anything else." You said by carrying your arms around to tighten your belly, your throat felt swollen, full of bile and stress accumulated in those days.

Izo stroked your hair to calm you down a bit and then said, "Does it keep you away? Does it avoid you?"

"No, Izo we’re together all the time, laughing, joking, kissing, but at night… I don’t know what’s wrong with him." You whispered by biting the inside of your cheek.

"The only thing I can think of that Ace is afraid to share in his pain." The man replied by stroking your back and you looked at him with a look that said to explain himself better: "Didn’t Ace tell you about his past?" He asked Izo, looking at you perplexed.

"In general, it’s not a topic he likes and the few times he tells me something are just the beautiful things he shared with Luffy." Did you respond by feeling a knot in your stomach, maybe you weren’t open enough? Maybe you should have investigated more.

"I think I know what he’s thinking." Izo said, smiling at you, "Ace’s just afraid that what’s happening to him with you is something he doesn’t deserve. Unfortunately this is a doubt that has plagued him for a long time and even Dad tried to make him understand that he is wrong to deprive himself of happiness, but you have come as a ray of sunshine in his life and he is afraid." He told you as he took you by the arm and led you to a more secluded place, the other commanders were approaching and it was better not to take such speeches with the older ones.

"Is he afraid of me?" You asked, feeling an emptiness in his stomach. Ace never told you all this.

"Not like that, sis, but he’s afraid you might slip out of his arms when he holds you, that you might leave him alone. Ace is afraid of loneliness." Izo said extending his arms and smiling bitterly, as if that speech touched him very closely.

"But he’s stupid or what!? How can he think I can let him go? I love him Izo, I love him so much that I’d be willing to drown with him at sea if I couldn’t save him." You said with tears in your eyes and your chest that it hurt.

You just imagined the pain that Ace was carrying inside, but you didn’t think it was as much pain as she could handle.

Izo smiled at you again: "We men are very stupid sometimes, we do not understand that when we have someone who loves us we can share everything with that person, but little sister the ghosts of Ace’s past are very very dark." She told you by wiping your tears with her kimono sleeve.

"Why won’t you tell me…" You asked and Izo shrunk his heart seeing you so sad, he hugged you to calm you down and whispered words of comfort.

"Little sister, listen carefully, Ace just wants to protect you from this darkness that follows him everywhere." He said pinching your cheeks and smiling at you.

"But he’s still a fool! My fool, be clear." You said assuming an expression of love and disapproval at the same time, ready to go straight to your boyfriend to confront him. How he had held such a heavy burden in his head all those months was something you could not understand, how it had not broken out was still a mystery to you.

"Can I afford some advice? Let’s go shopping together." Izo said taking you under his arm to get off the ship.

"Wait, Izo, what do you mean?" You wondered as you followed him intrigued, you still had a lump at the throat but it was more bearable after talking to your big brother, but you did not want to waste time to go and talk to Ace as soon as possible.

"We men don’t think when we have a woman in a nice suit." He winked at you. And then you realized the kind of shopping you were gonna do together: "And Ace went on a mission with Satch to confront some pirates. They will come back after dinner." He added as you went down the bridge and headed for the nearest town.

The afternoon had passed very quickly between underwear and suit shops, at the end you returned to the Moby Dick for dinner time, attracting a little' the attention of all with the packages you carried in hand and quickly disappeared in the cabin of Ace, It was also your cabin for how many times you slept there and for all the clothes you left us.

"Are you ready to decorate everything?"

You nodded and started coming out candles and petals and new sheets - the last ones had burned a little too much.

An hour later the whole room, the bathroom and every single piece of furniture had been placed and you were left alone to be prepared.

"I’m going to block Ace and Satch, they’ll be back soon." Izo said winking at you: "Don’t force him too much, if Ace wants he’ll talk. Then I want all the details anyway." He said Izo coming out the door and you thanked him with a mold kiss before he was completely out.

Now you had to settle down.

You wasted no time, you took off the clothes and underwear you were wearing and you rinsed quickly and then you started to get settled. Izo had good taste in the new burgundy red suit you were wearing.

A lace thong for the bottom and a lace bodice with hooks and bows that you have fastened one by one. Oh by that night, Ace would have freaked out and taken them off. You let your hair down and put on a pair of lake bracelets and a chain around your pelvis and then you looked in the mirror.

Settling in here and hanging out. You set the tub with the hot water and candles, and you placed the light in Ace’s room so that it would resemble the atmosphere of the sunset.

And while you were looking at all of your work, you heard the door open, a familiar voice, and then the door slams shut very fast.

"Welcome back Love!" You said turning to Ace and going to meet him to embrace and kiss him.

His gaze was lost on your body, it took a while for him to recover, but then he hugged you hard and held you by the hips, lifting you and making a turn on himself and then kissing you.

"All this for what…" You interrupted Ace before he could finish him by silencing him with a kiss on the nose.

"There’s no specific thing, it’s just for the two of us." You said flaunting your sweetest smile, you felt a tremor in his arms and you caressed his face, for a moment in his eyes appeared that spark of melancholy, but it was taken away immediately after.

Ace kissed you again, first his nose, then his cheeks, eyes and finally his lips as he carried you to the bed.

"Wait, I made you a hot bath, I want to tell you all about today." You said pointing at the door and the steaming steam coming out. You literally dragged him into the bathroom, stripped him of his clothes and put them in the laundry basket.

You sat on the edge of the tub inviting him to come in and use your legs as a pillow, and you started massaging his shoulders to take away the tension, and saying he was tense was too little.

"Ace… honey, you know you can talk to me about anything." You said while using shampoo in her hair and your boyfriend sighed at that touch and kissed your inner thigh.

You sighed at that kiss, but before you dealt with the subject before you could solve it.

"Honey, something’s bothering you right now…" You said by massaging her skin even more gently and Ace sighed and looked up at you.

"You don’t have to worry Honey, it’ll pass eventually…" He responded by kissing your inner thigh again and putting some foam on your leg.

"Ace…" You called his name and he looked at you with those onyx eyes and he smiled bitterly, leaned on you and sighed.

"I’ve only talked to Dad and Marco about it for now, but I think I owe you an explanation." He started saying and you invited him to continue: "Would you still love me if I was the son of a monster?" And that question threw you for a second.

"Ace what questions I am! Of course I would love you anyway, the sins of parents do not fall on the children." You said take him by the cheeks and stare him right in the eye.

"I am the son of Gol D Roger, I took my mother’s name, but his blood flows in my veins." He said getting out of the bathtub to get out and dry.

Gol D Roger, the king of pirates, the man most feared by the government, the man whom White Beard valued more than anyone else.

"Ace, whatever they told you about him is not true. Dad met the king of pirates in the past, they always clashed, I have a head full of tales of their adventures! Roger was not a monster. You’re not a monster." You said running to hug him from behind.

He was tense, so tense, and you held him tighter.

What they told him to make him hate himself so much.

"Even Dad told me, but I’m still the son of a monster for everyone who didn’t even deserve to be born." He said, turning to you, tears in your eyes and a heart full of pain, "How can you be with someone like me? With a person who has the blood of the devil himself." And those words have hurt you, so much.

And you did the one thing that felt right at the time.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him slowly, no running, no caring, no imposition, just a kiss full of everything you felt for him.

You felt his hands hesitate before you tightened your hips and held onto him.

"You more than anyone else deserve to live Ace." You said with a firm voice and pointing your gaze at your boyfriend’s: "I don’t care, whatever the evil voices say, I love you. I met a boy, an earthquake of emotions with a power so strong that it made the world tremble, but he never used it to hurt anyone and slowly opened up to me. You fought Dad, but it never occurred to you to take me hostage or hurt me when we knew each other, only the real devil would. Ace you are not your father, you also have your mother’s blood, you live for her, you live for the woman who gave you life with so much difficulty. Live for your brother Luffy and for all of us." You said hugging him tightly to you.

"Live for me and all the adventures that await us." You said kissing him again, and this time the kiss between you two was filled with so much emotion. Ace allowed you to touch the darkness that was smothering him, and you were determined to take it from him with all your might.

"I think I don’t deserve you…" Ace said, and you pinched him.

"Ace listen to me, I love you." You said pushing him to bed and straddling him: "I love you. Nothing will change my mind, may the sky fall, the sea become dry and all the catastrophes of this world come to pass, I will always love you." You said with tears in your eyes and clutching at him.

Ace had suddenly come into your life and you wouldn’t let him go without a fight.

He held you tight to himself and leave you a kiss on your forehead.

"I’m sorry about this period." Ace said, lifting your chin to look at you better and wiping your tears with your thumb, "I’m sorry that I worried you and hurt you, but I… I… you are my perfect love and I was so afraid that you would go away that…" The words had died in his throat as tears fell from his eyes.

"Ace, I’ll tell you forever. I love you, and nothing and no one will take me away from you."

And he smiled at you, one of those smiles that taste of melancholy and hope at the same time.

You kissed again and said nothing else to each other. You just needed to love each other in silence.

Ace took all the time in the world to undress you, he started from the bodice by pulling out one thread at a time and placing warm kisses on every inch of skin that was exposed to the light of candles.

"This will become my favorite from now on." He whispered to you in a voice that shriveled from tears and you smiled at him.

He kissed you until you get to your center asking permission to enter because the impatience to satiate your bodies was so much that he just wanted to join and you.

You have consented and Ace has entered slowly inside you, kissing your breasts and pelvis to distract you from the pain and whispering sweet words in your ear when your basins have merged as to become one.

There was pain, you could feel it, but there was more.

Much more.

And the thrusts that followed were slow and gentle. You clung to his shoulders to find a foothold to all the sensations that were flowing inside you, you scratched him and kissed him to keep him connected with you and the moans coming out of your mouths were loaded with the tension accumulated at that time.

"With me you can vent everything…" You whispered in his ear starting to meet his movements with your pelvis. Ace kissed you choking on your moans when he started going at a faster pace.

You bit his neck with a groan hard enough to leave chills down his spine.

The thrusts have become stronger and his hands have harpooned at your hips. You shored your feet on the mattress and you anchored yourself behind Ace scratching him harder, maybe you even hurt him, but he had hit the same spot the previous nights and for a moment your vision was clouded.

"I’m sorry Love…" He tried to say but you silenced him with a kiss. If he needed to hold you so much you were fine. You would have done anything to make him understand that you would never leave him.

You arched your back and curled your toes when her fingers sank into your flesh for the second time, and you were sure they would leave a mark.

But you didn’t back down, the pain was replaced by pleasure.

Push and counter push. Muffled sounds and groans smothered by your lips colliding, you were so close that you hurt, almost as if to melt forever.

Oh what Ace did to make you fall in love to that extent. He came by chance wounded and beaten, but he became the sun that brightened your days.

Your heart leaped forward, and so did Ace’s.

Some more push and you have come together, choking your pleasure in a needy and wet kiss, remaining united among you.

You wouldn’t be off all night.

Ace used his power to extinguish the candle flames, the light had gone out and you were in the dark. Two naked, entangled bodies that no one could share.

Two hearts that had become one.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Ace told you by leaving a kiss on your forehead and squeezing you.

"I love you, too, Ace." You said hiding in his arms, in what was a safe haven for you and what you took to call home.

You fell asleep tight to each other, contented, happy, with less weight on your souls and full of love.

"Satch forbid you to go and wake them." Izo had taken Satch for his yellow scarf and carried him away from Ace’s cabin.

"But what! Next Izo you know the rules everyone…" But the murderous look of his brother made the cook shut up in less than two seconds.

"They need to be with each other. It’s not just fistfights or talks with Dad. They need each other and no one should dare disturb them." He said the raven also looking badly at Mark and marching to the dining room for breakfast without admitting replicas.

Neither of them dared to respond.