#no need to say his was so little or the same level. abusers usually have a focus and hit the rest as treats

[zappedbyzabka]

Kreese definitely was abusive to all the Cobras and left a mark on them back then but Johnny was always a focus for him from the very start.

[theshinazugawaslut]

Which girl is suitable for Sanemi, in your opinion? And what kind of character or goals in life?

a/n: my genuine apologies for not being able to finish this sooner!

disclaimer: I will be mentioning things that Sanemi wouldn't be looking for in a partner but this is not to be taken personally.

To start off, I interpret Sanemi as a family-oriented man who would not be interesting in things like partying or hooking-up; he'd date to marry, and would only have sex if he loved you very dearly and trusted you with his life. I say this because Sanemi is a man who isolates himself from everyone he loves but also has a deep respect for women, he wouldn't wish to be like his father (and even without the idea of his abusive father, Sanemi would disagree with ideas like being a fuckboy or making bad decisions). This is not to hate on anyone who does do these sort of things, this is just how I imagine Sanemi to be and what makes most sense regarding his character.

I'm going to split this into little mini-sections with little examples and explanations as well: What Sanemi wouldn't like and what Sanemi would like.

What Sanemi Would Like/Need:

Someone of unshakeable character and a strong moral compass; meaning that the person should be resilient and strong-minded, not easily swayed by others.

Someone family-oriented; this would be incredibly important to Sanemi. He is someone who places great importance on his own mother and siblings hence he'd wish for someone who holds the same importance on their own family as well. This would also play into the fact that Sanemi would want children, so he'd unconsciously want someone who is good with kids and would also want children.

Someone humble, down-to-earth, and simple. Spoiled brats and stuck-up people would make Sanemi strangle someone.

Someone kind-hearted and patient; the most ideal sort of kindness would be someone who is Tanjiro-level. Someone who could calm him down, help him rationalise himself, or help him figure out his emotions during tough times. He'd like someone who is selfless and tender.

Emotionally intelligent. He'd unconsciously need this in a partner due to the fact he is usually unable to express and verbalise his feels so having someone understand him would mean the whole world to him.

Due to his pessimistic nature/thoughts, he'd need someone who can see good in people/things. He's not looking for an overly optimistic, happy person who believes all is good in the world but instead he's looking for someone who can separate right from wrong, acknowledge the darkness of the world and still choose to make and see the best.

Goals-wise — someone ambitious or determined. He doesn't care if your goal is to crochet the world's best handbag or have three kids or open a florist shop, as long as you love it! Someone who rambles a lot would be endearing to him since he likes to just listen.

Feminine. By this, I don't mean someone who looks feminine but someone who acts feminine, someone overall gentle and nurturing, someone he could trust to slice his heart open gently and kiss him so fucking sweet after.

What Sanemi Wouldn't Like/Want:

Somebody who is too social. This isn't to say he wants you cooped up inside the house all the time with no one around you but Sanemi wouldn't be very big on placing a lot of emphasis on friends; he'd rather you and him hang out together all the time so if you dislike clinginess in the sense he will go with you to the gym, shops, salon, your family, then you and Sanemi are definitely not made for each other. So if you're someone who constantly wants to have friends over and go out with friends, he'd most likely find himself bored and slightly irritated even if he won't say anything. He doesn't understand why some people care about their friends so much; if you were hanging out with siblings or parents, he's totally up for it, but he's more iffy about friends. To add to this, Sanemi would really appreciate someone who gets along with family and he'll definitely get along for yours.

People who go partying/clubbing. Sanemi would dislike this because he thinks there are much better ways to spend his time and he overall dislikes the idea of drinking. He probably thinks bars and clubs are immature and a waste of time. He thinks if you can't have fun sober, then you're no fun at all. Overall, he doesn't like the things associated with partying/clubbing culture, and he feels like it's not an overall good place to be. He won't judge people who do it but he definitely wouldn't like it in his own partner.

Hook-up/one-night-stands; Sanemi would never partake in this sort of culture in the first place and I don't think he'd ever go with someone who does. He has different values and beliefs that don't really align with that sort of culture, so I think it'd be very unlike he date/marry someone who partook in it. This isn't for people to get offended but he'd rather someone chaste like himself.

Someone who is always angry. I see this trope in fanfictions a lot but I don't think Sanemi would pair very well with someone who is snappish/brutish like him; he doesn't want you to be a whimpering, pathetic mess, but I don't think he's ever going to fall for someone like himself, he prefers serenity in his partners.

Argumentative. You'll both just end up heartbroken and in a very badly chaotic relationship. It would never work out.

If you don't want kids. He wants kids, he loves them and really wants his own, and you'd probably find a problem later in your life with him if you really don't want kids. He'd never force you or try to push it on to you but he'd feel really sad on the inside.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: It's friday again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once Leslie leaves, you lock yourself away again. Your father's taken to the cold shoulder over his previous aggression. You don't mind, it assures you of a tenuous peace. So long as you don't draw his attention, you're okay.

Your anxiety remains piqued. Not only by your father's stewing ire but the thought of what looms both behind and ahead of you. With all that happened at work, you have little hope of tomorrow being better. There is also the question of Mr. Laufeyson's surprise... you can't even begin to guess what he has in mind.

Another test, no doubt. Like today. You're certain you failed that one too. You took his kindness and showed yourself to be ungrateful. You questioned him when you should have just accepted it with a smile on your face.

It is not your place to worry about his intentions, as he has made it clear, you are not on the same level. He is your boss and you do what he says. So you will do that and nothing more.

Is that his voice in your head?

You sneak out for a shower but it doesn't do much to calms your nerves. You spend another night tossing and turn, kept awake by the television set a top volume and the dissonance of your anxiety. Even with the extra hours granted, you find yourself painfully awake at the same splitting hour.

You get up to make your tea. Your father's snoring on the couch at the TV continues to blare. You don't disturb either as you put on the kettle and ready a mug. You rub your eyes and yawn. Leslie will be here soon. You should wake him and get breakfast going. It will lighten her load.

When you have your cup steaming, you stay at the counter and sip tentatively, weighing your next steps. You leave your father as he is and return to your room, dressing and cleaning up before you descend again. You have your phone in hand, almost hoping a notification will pop up. Maybe Mr. Laufeyson will change his mind and you can be off before you have to face your dad. The phone remains lifeless. 

You sigh and shut off the television, hoping the sudden silence might rouse him. He continues to snort loudly. You bite down on your cheeks as your skin buzzes and itches. He's not a morning person. 

The memories of him exploding to consciousness in a furor of hollers and kicks keep you from shaking him. You back away as the doorbell rings and does the job for you, your father grumbling as you go to answer it.

Leslie enters with her usual blustering brightness. She greets your father and stops short, hands on her hips as she tuts.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" She huffs, "Charles, you can't sleep down here."

"I'm not," he sits up and hacks into his hand before sliding the oxygen tube back into place. "You woke me up."

"What's gotten into you?" She accuses, "I told you yesterday I'm not here for your attitude. You're not some teenager, you're a grown man."

"Bah, I need coffee," he snarls.

"You need a cold shower," she retorts as she goes around the couch and snatches up the pack of smoke on the cushion beside him, "and a swat on the snout. What're you doing with these things?" She pauses and looks at you, "he can't be having these in the house."

"I don't... know where they came from," your murmur.

"Don't matter, if you see them, you toss them," she reproaches, "this is a team effort, alright? Now yesterday, this place was a right mess. I'm here to help, not play maid."

"I'm sorry, I..." you snap your mouth shut. You did clean up, as best you could before work, but you'll have to do better.

"Not her fault she's useless," your father quips.

"Charles," Leslie warns as she points at him.

"Sorry, hon," he puts his hands up, "was only a joke."

"Not a very nice one," he rebukes.

"I know, I know," he chortles.

"So don't apologise to me," she flicks her finger towards you.

Your father stops his laughing and quiets. He crosses his arms and slumps his shoulders as you stare at the back of his head. You wait as Leslie tilts her head dangerous and cross her arms.

"Charles," she girds.

"Don't worry about it," you croak, "it's fine. I'll... I'm going in late so I'll get breakfast started."

"Oh yeah, she don't gotta go polish that man's silver early," your dad growls.

"Charles," Leslie snips again, "I mean it, be nice."

"I am nice, hon, I'm being funny."

"You are not," she insists.

"Come on, Les," he lowers his voice as you pad towards the kitchen, "I'll be good, alright? Don't give me that look."

She sighs but you don't look back, "alright, no more smokes."

"I'm tellin' ya, honey," he speaks so softly you barely recognise his voice, "I didn't touch 'em. Found them in the couch but I didn't smoke any. Don't be mad at me."

You shake your head and try to roll the tension out of your shoulders. She's been here just over a week and he talks like he's known her forever. He's actually nice to her. He cares about what she thinks, what she feels. But you, his own daughter, you get the blame for it all. You're the reason he hates himself and his life. Maybe if you'd never come along, he'd still have the woman he loved. 

🧹

You set off just after eleven, the bus due not long after. As you come down the overgrown walk with its cracked pavement and uneven tilt, your eyes are drawn up by the snap of a car door. Footfalls scuff on the pavement as you look over the curb to the shiny car parked there. It's an unusual sight in the rundown neighbourhood.

Mr. Laufeyson proudly steps up as the window on the passenger's side rolls down. A pair of similarly green eyes peer out as she takes in the sight of the yellow duplex. You want to run and hide. You can't imagine either of them ever had to dirty themselves in a place like this.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you rush towards him, "I--- you said noon."

You pull the phone out and check the time. He puts his hand on the roof of the car calmly as you stop a few feet away. He chuckles, amused by your panic.

"It's so quaint," Frigga remarks as she remains firmly in the front seat, "dear, how are you?"

"Um, I'm well, Frigga," you answer with a tight gulp.

"Good, good, you look well," she praises, "a bit tired. Tell me he's not overworking you."

"Mother," Laufeyson shoots a glance in her direction.

"Er, it's fine," you clutch the strap of your bag, "I... did I do something?"

"No, no," Frigga waves off your suspicion, "I simply insisted my son bring me to see you while I'm in town."

"Oh, I was just on my way..." you look at Laufeyson confused as he gives an expression you can't quite read. He's expecting something but you're not sure what.

"We have lots to do so no sense in waiting around," she trills.

"Oh?" Your lips part. "Did something-- is the house okay?"

"The house is just fine. That old place only needs a little light, but see if my own son hears me," he rambles, "Loki, don't be rude, get the door."

He flinches and drags his hand away from the top of the car, "yes, mother."

He moves to open the back door, gallantly opening it for you. You feel like you've been dropped into an alternate universe. This can't be happening.

"Get in," he says. 

You blink at him and he tilts his head, gesturing to the back seat. You obey with some reluctance and sit the large leather bag beside you. You slowly pull the seat belt down and click it into place. Laufeyson strides around the bumper as you peek in the mirror at Frigga's silvering curls.

"Right, then," Laufeyson opens the driver's door and lowers himself into the seat, "there we are."

"How are you feeling, darling?" Frigga's eyes meet yours in the rearview before you quickly look away, "are you very hungry or can you wait a bit longer for lunch?"

"I... Lunch? I'm okay," you assure. You can't figure this out. "Thank you."

The car whirs and rolls into motion. You're uneasy as you watch the street pass by. If he takes a left, he can get back to the main roads and-- no, he's going right?

"Mm, alright, the boutique first then," she orders her son, "I'm wondering if perhaps they could squeeze us in at the spa. It has been a while since I had some clay done. Oh, and my nails are ragged."

You try to connect the dots as your brows stitch together. Is this his surprise? His mother? Why are you there? You should be figuring out what's going on with the squeaky hinge on the closet. 

"I can't wait to see the new season's colours," Frigga carries on as you tune her out, lost in the riddle of her presence and your own.

Surely, you're being brought along as some sort of valet. Of course, Laufeyson would offer you to carry her bags as she splurges on her pretty dresses. And she is always dressed so nicely whenever you see her. And make up, her lips are a pleasant shade of rose. She would likely spend even more on shoes, don't forget the silver sparkling at her throat and the gemstone dangling there... 

Right, you see. Another lesson. He wants you to remember what you don't have. After your slip-up yesterday, he has to remind you of where you belong; squashed under his sole.

"Oh, is Eliana still at the salon, I should stop in and say hello," Frigga's voice once more punctures your distraction. "She was always so sweet."

"Mother, I... don't know about that. Maybe a different salon."

"You are such a pessimist, what are the odds we run into her?" 

"Don't even tempt fate," he warns.

"No one said you were invited, hm? You said you had business down at Heimdall's."

"You are stubborn, mother," Laufeyson tisks.

"It's where you got it from, dear," she taunts, "so, darling," she peeks in the mirror again and you shy away, "how about it, you and I? It will be so nice. I haven't gotten a day out in so long."

"Oh, you haven't? Should I ask father about that?"

"Let's not mention your father," she rebuffs him smoothly and his shoulders slump.

"Um, well, that's nice, but..." you protest meekly

"It's my treat," she insists, "please. You're doing me a favour."

"I really don't know--"

"I don't mind," Laufeyson interjects, "and it won't affect your hours."

"I did soften him up a bit," she purrs.

"Mother," he hisses again.

"Oh you are so serious," she chides, "she needs this more than I do, I'm sure, with a stickler like you."

He twitches but says nothing. You sense he wants to say it again, 'mother', in the tone of please be quiet. It would be laughable if you weren't so perplexed by it all. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you didn't wake up and you're oversleeping your alarm, having stress dreams about what will happen when you wake to reality.

"He's a good little chauffeur," she pats his arm playfully, "so he will drop us at the salon, won't you, dearest son?"

He grips the wheel tight and you see his knuckles turn almost translucent, "yes, mother, whatever you wish."

🧹

Mr, Laufeyson drives through the downtown area. You don't come there much, or at all. You passed through on your way to the hospital and on occasion to sort out a billing issue with the bank, but there wasn't much for you there. Along the west side, the nicer shops reside and several buildings with businesses you could never figure out.

Laufeyson pulls up into a marked spot beside a meter. As you stare out, still puzzled by it all. Everything's going so fast and you just want it to slow down. You look at your boss and feel a pang in your chest; how many times had he mentioned your clothes? This isn't a favour, this is him saying you're not good enough.

"Come, come," Frigga gets out and opens your door for you, "let's not drag our feet."

You undo the seat belt and go to grab your large leather bag. As you get out, Frigga catches you by the shoulders. "You won't need this," she takes the bag and reaches past you to put it back in the car, "only your pretty self."

"Oh, uh, sure, okay," you look again at Laufeyson but you're not sure why. He isn't going to help you. He's plunged you into this situation. He only arches a brow in response.

"Just going to give you a nice refresh," Frigga pulls on your elbow and shuts the door, tugging you onto the pavement. "You would do wonderful with some highlights."

You stumble along beside her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She directs you to the shining transparent windows of a salon, a sign overhead with a curled iron bar across the top. You peek over your shoulder again as Mr. Laufeyson lingers another moment before steering out into traffic.

The door chirps as it opens and you're ushered inside to the sound of jazzy pop covers. You can't choose where to focus as the sleek shelves of colourful bottle behind the pure white counter refracts the lights of a spindly chandelier. Velvet chairs are arranged around a table in the little waiting area as stylists gab with clients in chairs.

"Frigga," a woman with platinum locks flutters over with the clacking of heels, "oh, it's been so long."

"Eliana! It has, look at you," they embrace and part, Frigga playing with the tall woman's pin-straight tresses, "what happened to the black?"

"Got a few grays and a divorce," the woman, Eliana you presume, cackles, "and who's this?"

They look at you as you're ready to fade into the black and white stripes on the wall.

"Oh, a friend, she's lovely," Frigga comes back and takes your hand, drawing you forward, "she just needs a little touch-up."

"Oh, she's a natural, she won't need much at all," the stylist approaches you, "I know just the woman; Luciana," she claps and looks back, "I have someone to fill in that cancellation.”

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader 18+ MDNI PART 5

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :6524 

Warnings below the cut

WARNINGS: Abuse (Not aemond commiting it, Aemond is nice in the fic) brother of OC/Reader is a asshole, mention of pregnancy related deaths (oc's mother) and mentions of Oral sex (f recieving) fingering, and a looooot of angst.

Fight and die 5

Your husband stays by your side during the evening, when the sun begins to settle and when the moon and stars once again entertain and light up the night skies. The two of you nestle in the warm embrace of his bed, with sheets and blankets covering your still naked body, that Aemond caresses and kisses as if he is your devoted servant and you his Goddess. Kisses that tingle and make your belly ache, and kisses you want to last forever and forever more after that. “I've never seen such a beautiful creature.” Aemond breathes against the shell of your ear. ‘’Marrying you was the best choice I ever made.’’ He adds, burying his silver haired head between your legs. You are reminded of how this evening started, with him, wishing to taste you. You were a bit nervous, of course. But he took care of you. As he always has.

You brace yourself by allowing him to kiss the same parts of your body that he took. That he touched before and where he pushed himself inside of you. 

The pain always frightened you. But aside from the very first time, your body took it well. Aemond told you early on in your marriage that he would not force you. 

Sharing his bed, doing your duties as his wife is fun, enjoyable and a blessing. You feel him draw circles with his fingers on your legs, making eye contact all the while when softly wettening his fingers by sucking on them. You let out a soft pitched appreciative cry.

He smiles, bending a bit further and soon you feel his warm, soft tongue lick over your smooth and wet entrance. Aemond moans against your skin, taking a deeper lick, his tongue tasting and taking away all the wetness you have. You clench yourself, your needs increasing as Aemond keeps licking.

‘’Such a delicate, delicious delicacy you guard between your legs.’’ He mutters, between your soft gasps and moans. ‘’I can do this all day long.’’ He promises, darkly and levels his tongue back at your entrance, proving his words with a possessive soft lick.

‘’I’m not sure I can.’’ You breathe out, shakingly. Your pleasure is building fast and you can barely handle it. Whenever you are near, you become a bit shy and embarrassed, as you are not so sure yet how to properly do this. 

When Aemond took you, you were a maiden. Pure and uneducated in the way of pleasures. Now you know a bit more, but you and Aemond take it slow.

Your fingers dig in the sheets of his bed as the licks become soft kisses and eventually he is sucking your needy skin as you twist on his bed, your emotions and desire running higher and higher. 

‘’Hmm,’’ Aemond murmurs after watching your flustered face with a dark appreciative smirk. ‘’My wife and my lady is just  so delicious. I can’t help it.’’ He says, as if he excuses himself.

You know he is teasing.

‘’You are …delicious too.’’ You say, wishing to compliment him back. 

Your free hands find his arms, gently touching him. You kissed Aemond before but never bothered to actually take notice of what his lips taste like. ‘’Hmm, I’m not so sure.’’ Aemond says, honest. ‘’Men taste different than women.’’ You want to ask him more about that. You avoided the subject with your brother. Sex was not for pleasure. It was to make heirs and to gain territorial ground. 

But with Aemond, your husband…you are curious. How does a man taste? How does a woman please him, properly? Do you do it well as you do, or does Aemond want more excitement and fun? 

‘’How does a man taste?’’ You whisper softly. You get no response. You curse yourself. You likely were too soft and he didn't even hear your question. And you don't want to know how a man tastes. You want to know how he tastes. 

You lift his chin gently, interrupting his sucking. ‘’How do you taste?’’ You ask him, without missing a beat. Aemond's lips glinster with your wetness and juice as he licks them clean, watching your face speechlessly at your question.

‘’You wish to know that?’’ He asks, his voice a few octaves lower than usual, anticipation and pure lust creeping in.

Despite that he saw you naked and touched you where no one ever did, and despite you calling him your husband, the act still makes you a bit shy. ‘’Perhaps.’’ You calmly reply.

Aemond rubs your legs.

‘’You think you are ready for such things?’’ He wonders out loud. You wonder the same thing. These things take time to learn, time and trust. You are taking things slow with your husband. You two regularly lay together but trust, it is another thing entirely. 

You hope to slowly build it with Aemond, stone for stone and wall for Wall until a strong foundation lays at your feet. But your mind, however…

It is curious. Aemond fed it with delicious forbidden things. He teaches you that having sex is a pleasure, not a duty and a burden. He made you appreciate it in ways you never thought possible and that makes you curious for what awaits you both. ‘’What sort of things?’’ 

Prince Aemond takes a good look at your shimmering wetness, perhaps avoiding eye contact that way as the words that leave his lips are soft and gently spoken as a secret he is hiding. ‘’Pleasuring me.’’

At first you are intrigued. Until you hear your self esteem tell you that you apparently don't do a good job at pleasuring him at all, or else he wouldn't have asked for more. And that makes you a horrible nervous wreck for when your brother comes, as pleasuring the prince was your only task. ‘’Don’t I already bring you pleasure?’’ You quickly mutter.

‘’Yes, more than you know.’’ That brings you relief. He is pleased. You do well. He continues however. ‘’But, you made it sound as if you were curious about more ways to bring me pleasure. Perhaps more ways…’’

His thumb and finger rub your nipples, as his other hand smoothly disappears between your legs, to where you need his fingers. He starts to level them inside of you, grabbing hold of you as you allow his fingers to take you. ‘’For yourself to reach more pleasure.’’ You gasp.

‘’I’m not sure I can handle such ways.’’ You confess. “I'm already at my limit with what I can handle.” He chuckles, adoring you clearly, perhaps you, perhaps the thought he brought you to your limits.

Yet he is gentle with his words, sweet even and considerate. Unlike most men. Unlike most husbands for sure. “You just started this journey. You have much to learn, but I will educate you when you are both mentally and psychically ready for it.” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss on your neck. You shiver against him and allow his hands to keep touching you where you desperately need it.

He thinks you can take more. He knows you can handle more. He sees you as a strong thing. ‘’I’ll admit, when I first met you, I thought you were a porcelain doll. One push and you’d shatter.’’ You wait for the compliment. ‘’But, I have gotten to know you and, well… You are not porcelain. You are Valyrian steel.’’ You know of that material. It is said to be strong as nails and nearly unbreakable. It is also lighter yet, making it a perfect weapon. The steel was forged in your ancestral land, where the Targaryens and your family both hailed from.

You feel flattered and beautiful all due to his kind words. But these are more than kind words. When he looks at you, you can see he is sincere in his praise. You wait for his fingers to finish touching you before you top him in an impulse, rolling on top of him and pinning him under you to give him a sloppy messy and needy kiss.

Aemond appreciates it, moving his hands over your back, caressing you as you lay there, feeling his heartbeat close and safe within your grasp.

He pins his hands into your own. You realize you are mirroring the position where you two start when you perform your duties as his wife. He is under for once and you, you are on top. 

You feel more heat rise to your cheeks as you try to get off your husband, as this is likely far from what he wants. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to-” You stutter, getting off him as fast as you can.

Prince Aemond is confused, his brows narrowed and his good eye glances up and down your body, clearly worried.

“What is it?’’

You gesture with your hands to his bed and laugh, a bit silly that you acted on such foolish impulses. “A wife is supposed to lay under her husband. Not on top of him.” You say, as your brother has told you many times. ‘’It is known.’’

Aemond remains on the bed, putting his hands behind his head and sighs, deeply. You watch his chest rise and fall, fascinated by the prince’s beauty. Not just his muscles, but his grace. His good eye twitches and sparkles with mischief as he softly smirks, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “What does my wife think of that statement?” You aren’t sure. That is the way things were explained to you. That is the way the world works, in your opinion. 

But the way Aemond said it, it changes everything you had known.  “It's the truth, isn't it? A man can't…put his…inside her if he's.. not…” Your lips begin to part as Aemond burst into laughter at your statement.

He touches your face, lovingly before he kisses your lips and forehead, caressing it. “I assure you, I'm very flexible. But if you are uncomfortable in this position, or any position, you will tell me and we won't do it anymore. How does that sound?” You are very well aware Aemond could have chosen something else. A wife is a wife and has to obey her husband. Yet Aemond listens to your every wish, every step down the road he has been nothing but kind and gentle.

It makes you worry, because what if Aemond is just acting around you? What if he pretends to be fine, making all these sacrifices and sees women behind your back? What if this is all temporary and a beast is hiding beneath the man? “It's just…I am curious. Do I do well? As a wife?” You ask, sincer.

“As a wife?” He repeats after you.

You force yourself to laugh, trying to appear charming and beautiful.

“Do I bring you pleasure?” You ask, clarifying what you want to know, no must know so badly.

Aemond briefly looks at what is down between his legs, before chuckling softly. ‘’Revaera. You are a Valyrian born, enchanting, stunning, funny and smart woman. And I have only known you for almost a week. I can’t wait to see all the hidden sides that there are to you, I can’t wait to face both joy and doom with you. You make me not only happy, you make me proud to call you my wife.’’

You never have know to take a compliment well, as often, you weren’t complimented at all. You change the subject quickly. “Do you think we'll be in trouble?” You ask, out of the blue. You both denied the royals of this castle by not attending supper. You broke tradition and you insulted the King and Queen. You are sure they have killed for less.

Aemond switches the position of himself, planting himself slightly on top of you, intertwining your fingers lovingly with his own, making eye contact when kissing your lips. “Unlikely. They'll be offended for a few days or weeks at most. They'll get over it.” You hope he is right. 

You hear his chuckle. “I'm sure my father didn't even notice I did not attend. So no trouble at all.” He assures you, lowering himself and laying back next to you. You feel him wrap his arms around your body and pull you closer. 

You understand he is planning to sleep.

You know you should make use of this moment and seek out your brother to talk with him about the conflicts and the supper you missed. And how and why he is freed from the cage. Someone did that. Someone in this castle, someone with power, freed him. But who? And most importantly: Why?

But the impulse to stay safely within your husband's reach and to keep warm under the sheets of his bed, that impulse is too big for you to fight.

If you are so duty bound to your house, why do you feel as a whole other person when Aemond is near? He makes you want to take risks you never thought of taking. You never would have defied or rejected supper with the King and Queen before.

Next to you your husband snores gently and it is a comforting noise to you. You settle down next to him, and let sleep take you as well.

☆☆☆

“Revaera. Wake up, my love.” You hear your husband's voice gently as you open your eyes. A new day has arrived and a sunny one at that. Aemond sits on the bed near you, already dressed in his usual leather coat and pants.

You size him up, your smile fading as you understand he is heading out. “Are you going somewhere?” He likely is. And that terrifies you. You'll be alone and powerless without him by your side.

He nods, confirming your worst fears. He gently pats the sword he carries around.

“Practicing my swordfighting. I didn't want to leave you without telling you, however. That seemed…” He trials off. “A bit ill suited.” He did so before, and hearing his voice you know he is ashamed and apologizes for that mistake. 

When you two first slept together, when he won you and when you two consummated the marriage. Yet you never once regretted sleeping with him. He was kind, gentle and respectful. It was unlike anything you'd imagine it would be. It was pleasant.

“I know you have your duties, but thank you for thinking about me.” But that horrible feeling of helplessness grows and grows, eating away at your confidence.

The prince chuckles. “I'll think of you, whether I want that or not. You're on my mind quite often.” You hope he means that as a compliment. Aemond seems to see your worried face so he quickly adds with a blink or a wink (it is Aemond after all): “In a pleasant manner.”

You can't fight the smile that his words bring you. That he thinks of you so often is a good sign. Your relationship is improving, you hope. 

Finally, Aemond speaks.

“Revaera.’’

“Yes?”

He opens his mouth and closes it, as if unsure how to start this conversation.

“What are your plans?” you freeze. Plans. He knows. He heard of Fyrand’s plans, whatever it is they are. 

You try to ease your panicked voice and your fingers that itch away at your skin.

“My plans? I don't have any plans?” You nervously blurt out.

Aemond smiles, chuckling softly.  “No, I meant…for today. When I'm absent. What will you do? How will you entertain yourself?”

You ease your nerves, telling yourself he has not have one clue what you and your brother are planning. You have the feeling that Aemond is smarter than he appears, and likely sooner or later will find out.

But for now, you do have a good question to answer. How will you entertain yourself? Aemond is your husband, and besides him, you haven’t made any friends or allies at the castle. You could always swarm around, but you doubt it would end in someone befriending you. 

In truth: Being outside this room terrifies you. You are worried about running into the King, the Queen and having to face them after you and your husband missed dinner. There’s also the chance that more servants have heard how you are responsible for the death of two servants. And they already didn’t like you. 

You want to stay in Aemond’s room, waiting patiently by his bed until he returns and you can warmly nestle back in his arms again, where he will protect you from the cruelty and cold of this world.

“I-”

You think. “I might help Dyana with folding the laundry.” You think it is a good, productive and kind way to help your maid out and to help your husband as well.

But all Aemond does is shake his head the moment you have spoken out your thoughts. He does not approve of your plans. “I don't want that for you. You are my Lady, my princess. My wife…’ He caresses your face. “You are not my slave or my whore. You are not forced to remain within these four walls when I am gone.” He ends his sentence with a disbelieving chuckle. 

He continues, grabbing hold of your hands so he may caress your wrists. You understand he does so to feel your heartbeat. Proof that you are alive and real. “You should find something fun, something that excites you and something that brings you joy. A hobby, perhaps.” He suggests, kindly but it terrifies you regardless. A hobby. He wants to distract you.

Is it because he cares so much, or is it because he is worried you might be plotting something after all? Is he aware?

You never had time for hobbies or entertainment. Fyrand made sure of that. And starting one now, outside of these rooms, in halls filled with people who hate you, without Aemond, it sounds…

Terrifying.

“I never had much of a hobby. There wasn't time for that in Pentos.” You say, dismissevely. 

Aemond murmurs something, but grabs your hands tighter. “You are not in Pentos now, love. You are here. With me. We have a big library, a kennel filled with dogs and even a garden with herbs. Painting, writing, singing. It's all yours, darling.” He really wants you to find a hobby. 

You are a bit afraid of dogs, so you won’t be doing that, ever. And singing, you aren’t sure Aemond knows, but you can’t sing at all. And painting, you paint your own fingers more than you paint any canvas.  “That sounds..expensive. What if I drop the paint, what if the dog runs away or if the glass shatters when I start singing?” You blurt out, your thoughts leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

He laughs, amused thinking you are jesting. “The dogs are very loyal and very used to this lifestyle. It is unlikely they will even entertain that thought. Paint I can easily replace that myself for you, and I'm not sure I ever heard of a glass breaking due to poor singing.’’

He simply smiles and you know he won’t give up this matter any time soon and won’t leave this room until you have given him a proper answer. “I know what you say, Aemond. I do. It's just…For years I've been alone in a cold castle and …you are my light in the darkness. My safety net. Without you, I feel like I'm drowning.” You whisper. 

His smile softens and he kisses you once more. ‘’I am not sure what this is between us. There's something there, a seed that needs to be protected. I want to watch it grow; if you do as well.” He studies your face, so you give a nod. You do.

He continues, however and gently gives you a slight push in the direction he wants your relationship to go. “But I know, it is your best interest to start learning how to stand on your own two feet.”

“How do I get the servants to obey me? They all hate me for what that blasted ancestor of mine did.” You scowl, anger getting the better of you. 

Yet he seems confident that in time, all will be alright. “You'll learn in time. You already made a friend here. The servant girl will be at your disposal today. The one you convinced me to save.”

You know he made it clear why he wanted them hanged. They dared to question your virtue, therefor any children you and Aemond will have in the future. It is high treason, and Targaryens have one answer to high treason: Death.

But you feel, deep inside, that you must give it one last chance to change his mind for the better. To try to save two necks from a rope. “Did you by any chance perhaps change your mind on the others?” You ask, sweetly and unintentionally you notice you rub his hands.

His lips slowly rise, as he kisses your hands. “You are too good for this world. Too pure and too kind.” He gets up from the bed, pushing you softly aside. Rejected, you watch him.

He walks a few steps in his rooms, thinking. He continues, folding his hands on his back whenever he makes a tough choice and you know he did not change his mind at all. “But no. I did not.”

There is something final in his voice, and you understand you mustn't bring up the matter again, as it will likely cause an argument between the two of you. “I, I wish it was different but..if it's truly so dangerous for our lives and our future…” You trial off, scratching your itching skin. “Our future heir, then I accept your choice, Aemond. I trust you with this.”

Your husband sighs deeply, clearly relieved. ‘’Thank you for seeing it from my point of view. I don't enjoy spilling blood or killing. But this is an insult we must and cannot let stand.” He continues. “I wish to kiss you. Do you want me to do that?”

You laugh, finding it a little silly that he asks. He is your husband, he fucked you, he owns you, in a way. “I'm your wife.”

He does not react to that, remaining resilient. “Yes or no. Are you in the mood for a kiss? Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod, but he is not moving so you give him a verbal proper answer.

“Yes.”  Aemond rejoins you on his bed, giving you a soft but loving kiss that makes your stomach flutter.

You grin, brightly and whisper in his ear. “I like our kisses.”

He kisses you again, grinning just as madly as you do. “Our. I like the sound of that.”

You notice he is eying his sword again, and understand he is soon leaving your side. Aemond leaves the bed, but you yank him back by his leg, begging him with your eyes. “Please be careful.”

He nods, smiling gently at you. “I always am. Ser Criston is a respected and skilled swordsman. He would never let any harm come to me or to Aegon.” You haven’t heard much about either Ser Criston Cole or Aegon but you hope Aemond knows what he is doing. He won the duel for your hand. That has got to mean something.

You are glad he dropped the hobby matter. “I'm glad you say that. That eases my worries.” You say.

Aemond puts his sword back on and studies himself one last time in the reflection of a mirror. “Remember what I said, Revaera. You are not my slave nor my whore. Your life is your own now. I wish you to start living it. Not just endure it. Enjoy, not just survive it. Breathe out not to hold your breath.” You sigh, softly.

“I shall do my best.” You manage to say.

He gives you a final kiss before leaving.

“That's all I can ask, see you tonight, my love.’’

You mutter back that you’ll see him tonight.

—

Not so late after Aemond left, a young, blonde woman rejoins your side. She is the woman who spoke up about the bullying of your other ladiesmaids. She also was ready to defend you against Prince Aemond. That was not needed, but still, incredibly brave and kind of her.

You gesture for her to take a seat in your husband’s chair by the fireplace. A little confused and big-eyed, she does as she is commanded. ‘’Good morrow, Princess Revaera.’’ She says. 

You smile. ‘’Good morrow. I don’t believe you mentioned your name. If you did, you must forgive me, but memory isn’t my strong suit.’’ It seems to put her at ease.

‘’Dyana.’’ She says. ‘’And, uhm, yes Princess. I had already told you that. But that is fine! You can’t remember every servant’s name-’’ She rambles, a little nervous.  “I am forever in your debt and at your service, Princess. You saved my life from the gallows.”

You nod, sitting down. ‘’I just pity I couldn’t talk my husband into sparing the others as well.’’ You murmur. ‘’He seemed so sure that this is the right path to take, but what if we can find another way?’’

Dyana lifts her blonde haired head. ‘’Those ladies called you a whore. They dug their own graves. Your husband is in his right.’’ That is two voices against your own judgment and your own reasons.

You look at Dyana.

“Why did you come in during our talk?”

At first Dyana shrugs, but then she looks at her hands, pulling her nails like you often do. “My mind wandered. Usually when a husband dismisses his wife's ladies she's…” she gulps. “It is not pretty. I could not live with myself thinking he would harm you for things you did not do.” She regains a certain fire in her eyes, when she speaks. 

You understand she has a horrible image of how Prince Aemond truly is. A truly horrible image. “Prince Aemond was just worried about me, but I'm thankful for your kindness and your protection, Dyana. It means a lot that you would risk offending the prince, for me. A strange girl you never even met.’’

Dyana nods, eagerly and clearly proud of herself. She has every reason to. “Of course, Princess. My mother always told me I should treat everyone with kindness. Princess or peasant.” She adds. ‘’Oh, I almost forgot Princess. We must also prepare you for a banquet tonight. The King wishes to dine with his entire family, now that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon and their children have come home from Dragonstone.’’ 

Dyana helps you find a suitable dress. The last time you were here, the lady's maid's you had forced you to wear Green. It would send a message to the Princess and her family. A message you don’t want to send. You want to play both sides for now, and try to find out what side your loyalty should lie, for the sake of yourself but also for you and Aemond.

So, you pick out a purple with silver gown with golden stitches and a open back. Dyana helps you lace your dress, smiling at you through the big mirror. ‘’You look stunning, Princess.’’

A voice creeps up from behind you, startling you both. “I dare say so.” You turn around, your heart in your throat and your hands sweaty.

“Fyrand.” You say.

The illustrious heir of house Marthyralys, your brother, Fyrand stands behind you and Dyana, eying your silver and purple dress with great admiration. 

Your brother smiles, but you can see he is furious. ‘’I came here to see my little sister. You look ravishing for the banquette. Job well done, I’d say. You’ll have Aemond fucking you again soon.’’ That makes you uncomfortable. You didn’t dress for Aemond at all. 

You are glad Dyana is still with you, pretending to be busy with small things and matters, but her watchful eyes never truly leave Fyrand.

She pretends to be busy with folding blankets to avoid the eye of your brother. “Fyrand, I don't think Aemond wants you here.” You tell him, truthfully. “He is currently with Ser Criston and Prince Aegon in the gardens, practicing his sword fighting.”

He laughs, as if he remembers something funny. Something ironic you don’t know yet. “O, I don't doubt that they are for a moment. There is much to prepare for.” He grins as if he is experiencing some irony or knows something you do not. You don't like it. “I'm your brother. You can trust me.” He adds once he sees your frown.

He seems to notice Dyana finally.  “You. Girl. Go bother someone else.” Dyana does not react nor move at his command. 

“Girl. Are you deaf?” He barks, becoming annoyed and approaching her too. You are too familiar with Fyrand’s cruel hand, and you don’t wish to see Dyana suffer.

“Dyana, it is fine.” You tell her, gently.

For the first time since your brother ended, she looks up. Her eyes are full of worry and fear. “Are you certain, Princess?”

“Yes.” 

Dyana stops folding the laundry, and leaves you and Fyrand alone in Aemond’s rooms. The moment the door is shut, he turns on his heel, facing you. “Aemond got you a nanny, then. Does he not trust you? Does he not like you anymore? Is that why he is fighting?” You are confused. You and Aemond are doing fine. Aemond is not fighting persé, not in an emotional way. He is practicing. 

“Calm down.” You manage to say when he is done firing questions at you. Aemond does seem to trust you, which is why he approved of you having a maid to attend to your womanly needs as he called it. Dyana helps you with dressing, corsets and bathing. Tasks that are a bit difficult for you as you never really had to wear such fancy gowns or look that good.

You always looked decent but never this stunning. You dress for your influence and house now, and also because you know that Aemond will like it if you put effort into it. But most of all, you dress yourself now how you want to dress. You adore the different clothing and the fabrics and how endless the possibilities seem when it comes to design of fashion. 

And it's not just the fashion that has changed. Your eyes sparkle with something that you can only describe as a harvest. Seeds have been planted and withered away, yet all thanks to your own strength and endurance, you forced the seeds back into the ground to give it another go. And the result is everything you hoped it would be.

Fyrand grabs your throat, bringing you back to so many horrors. Despite having only one hand, he makes up for the loss of that by dragging his nails into your neck. “I am not calming down! I lost my left hand to get us on that ship. I lost everything to save you. The least you can do is repay me back for what you owe me.” You try to get his hands off your neck, and once you start choking, he does so.

You wait for him to explain the plan.

“What is my mission exactly?”

He scoffs at your stupidity. ‘’Gain the trust of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. Aemond likes you and tolerates you. That is clear to see. The King however, does not. I think that will change the moment you give birth to a beautiful silver haired child.” His last remaining hand pets your belly.

You think back of your mother.

“You know why birthing is a difficult topic for me.” You whisper, soft.

Fyrand burst into laughter. “For you? As if you even knew our mother who died when you came out of her, as some monster crawling out of a corpse.” He laughs, oblivious to your own pain.

You don’t understand how this will make the King happy. He has plenty of silver haired grandchildren. “Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena have already gifted him grandchildren. Even Princess Rhaenyra has her own babies who qualify-”

Fyrand groans, warning you of his temper. “Prince Aemond would like to have an heir. And you will like having a son. As all women do. You will like nurturing it and taking care of it.”

You aren’t sure. For you never had a mother to begin with. Who would teach you how to be a mother?  “What if I don't? What If I'm a terrible mother?” Fyrand laughs, before hitting you across your face. “Don't test my patience again.” He adds. ‘’Focus on getting pregnant. You and Aemond fuck enough for that happen, I’ve heard.’’

You are seething he dared to hit you. Again. Any other time, you would’ve let him. But not this time. You grit your teeth.

‘’Who freed you?’’

Fyrand smirks, but does not tell you.

‘’We have a foot in the door, dear sister. Your husband isn’t the only one who has taken a liking to you.’’

And with that he leaves you with more questions than answers.

—

Prince Aemond asked you to find a hobby, so you will at least make an effort for it. For your love. For this seed, you both want to see it grow. So, you leave his chambers in your new evening gown and make your way down to the big stairs. 

You don’t know where you are going, but somehow, your feet take you to the courtyard. You notice a dark haired male fighting with someone with familiar long, gorgeous and lucious silver hair. Your husband. You smile, approaching the two from a distant, careful to not interrupt their practice. Aemond dodges and drops his shattered shield, before avoiding the morningstar of the man. That must be Ser Criston.

You watch your husband and Cole both give it their all, and you don’t know you are holding your breath until it is all finished and Aemond holds his sword at Cole’s throat. Cole yields, and soon the gathered crowd applauds at the Prince’s skills. Yourself included.

You feel the urge to approach him, so you do, step for step and gently but by doing so, you are listening in to a conversation between Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon.

Prince Aegon is shorter, as is his hair.

‘’Your wife. How is she settling in?’’ You freeze. They are talking about you. You don’t know why, but you quickly hide between two tall men.

Aemond cleans his sword, sharpening it as well, shrugging and clearly trying to hide his smile. ‘’Revaera is doing well, all things considered.’’ You are glad he says so.

His brother grins.

‘’She eyes me as very eager to please. You should exploit that. Perhaps invite a lady into your bed. Revy will do as you command her. Perhaps she'll learn to like it as well.’’ Disgusted, you growl.

Aemond steps closer to Aegon, his sword still in his hand. ‘’Her name is Revaera. She has endured enough torture for a lifetime, I don't intent for it to continue when I vowed to protect and honour her.’’ He lashes out, groaning.

The other Prince scoffs. ‘’Such a protective little husband you have become. And so quickly. Whatever Revaera keeps between her legs must be absolutely divine. Do not forget who your loyalty should be to.’’ Aemond sighs, embarrassed his brother had to remind him of duty for once.

‘’My wife has proven no threat, Aegon. You know them. They were traitors once.’’ Aemond suddenly stops talking, and smiles when he notices you. Instead of berating you, he rushes to your side, sweeping you off your feet for a kiss. 

‘’There you are.’’ He declares, as if you went for centuries without one another’s touch. Aegon rolls his eyes and throws his sword on the ground, not even bothering to put it away. 

‘’I was uhm...How did the training go?’’ You ask, your cheeks still warmed because of all the eyes aimed at you and your husband.

Aemond frowns as you two make your way inside the castle. ‘’As well as to be expected. I worry for Aegon. He is getting better but I see so much wasted potential and its driving me insane.’’ He confesses, confiding in you. You feel proud he wants to share such things with you. You don’t know what to say that will make it better, so you instead rub his hands.

He smiles, accepting your love.

‘’New gown?’’ He asks, studying your stunning purple gown. He has a good eye. You assumed most men wouldn’t even notice that.

You smile, breaking free from his grasp and make a twirl and a spin for him, so he may see the whole thing. ‘’Yes. Do you like it?’’ You ask, smiling still.

He breaks into a grin. ‘’Very much so, but do you?’’

You think. Yes, you do. ‘’I like how soft the fur coat is. I like the pretty sparkles. Thank you for clothing me. Thank you for spending coins on me. It's the prettiest dress I ever laid eyes upon. ‘’You get a bit emotional too, realizing that this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you.

Aemond shrugs, humble and modest and gives you a kiss on your cheeks. ‘’A dress is like a blank canvas. It becomes art when the artist brings it to life. The dress itself is pretty, but you make it eternal.’’ ‘’And, no worries about my coin and funds, love. I would not have taken a wife if I could not provide for her. And don't feel guilty too, as you can hardly walk around naked.’’ He jests, but he grins, whispering. ‘’Not that I would complain…’’

You chuckle.

You giggle, and your lips share a embrace as if you are two smitten teens. That is when you notice that the Prince has been injured. His hand has a cut, a small bleeding wound.

‘’O,’’ You mutter, looking closer at the wound. ‘’You are hurt.’’

‘’It's just a scratch.’’ Prince Aemond says, dismissively. ‘’It happens when you are fighting.’’

You grab his hands, forcing him to stand still. ‘’No, it's not.’’ It is not just a scratch. 

Aemond blushes, smiling at you.

‘’I mean…’’ You stutter, aware you gave your husband an order and defied him.

But he does not seem to care.

‘’Yes?’’ Is all he asks with a kind gentle and hopeful smile.

You take him by his arm.

‘’Come. We shall find a maester for you.’’

‘’That is really not needed, my dear.’’

Yet you can't help but notice the smile on his lips and the gentle shimmer of hope in his eye. 

‘’Why are you smiling?’’ You ask, shaking your head at your silly husband. Aemond shrugs, pretending to be fine, but you notice his voice has become emotional.

‘’Perhaps I’ve always wanted someone to worry for me. Anyone who wasn’t forced by blood to do so.’’

----

Yeah let me know what you think of this chapter! Next chapter we have the big dinner and also aemond will be undergoing surgery for his wounds /joke.

[brujahinaskirt]

Just some lil' thangs you might not notice about the level of detail RDR2 puts into Arthur's interactions with horses if you aren't personally experienced with horses:

[Sorry if this has been done! I couldn't find a post like it in recent tumblr history, and hope I can at least add some thoughts that haven't been analyzed to death already!]

(First, a note about me: I was raised on a quarter horse ranch and trained by a cadre of old-school cowboys in the Western tradition. Some of them were excellent teachers and some of them were crabby-faced bastards who thought "horsemanship" = engaging in a constant war with your horse... which gives me a little insight into positive and negative horsemanship styles on display in RDR2.)

(Second, thanks to fellow horsegirl @mangocats for helping me compile this list!)

(Third, a simple note to say that although I playfully use the term "horsegirl" in this post, the notes here apply to any gender. Same goes for the use of terms like "horsemen," which is not commonly used in the Western equestrian world to indicate a rider's real gender.)

Now, without further ado:

Press X to Calm. Arthur uses a tried-and-true low-stress, gradual escalation method of approaching and calming a spooked horse that begins with establishing physical contact with one hand and slowly increasing contact until the horse is fully calm and is once more amenable to human direction & commands. This is usually a preferable method to getting a frightened horse under control imo, but it's a "soft hand" method, and not something you always see in machismo-loaded equestrian circles. I've written about this a little in another meta post, so I won't get too deeply into it here.

Overall Horsemanship Style. You'll notice that while he does occasionally drive them hard in emergencies such as escaping the law or chasing a train, Arthur never "forces" his horses to comply with commands; in other words, he doesn't use his strength to try and bully a horse into doing something, like crossing a river, or physically punish a horse to "desensitize" it. "Forcing" horses to do things using tack designed to create discomfort or using raw bodily intimidation + fear & pain-motivated negative reinforcement is a tragically common tradition in old-school Western riding (and still advocated by some popular TV equestrians whom I think are straight-up animal abusers... if you know you know). It's dismal, but for a lot of the cowboys I know/knew, when a horse isn't obeying, you need to "show it who's boss." Arthur never approaches animals this way. By contrast, especially for the time period, he is exceedingly patient with horses and animals in general. We can even see this in his dialogue to wild horses; when they gradually calm down after the initial "breaking in" process, Arthur usually says something companionable like, "See, we're friends now."

And a sub-point on that: Horsemanship Temperament. Arthur never gets mad at or yells at his horse. Even when he gets chucked to the ground, he'll yell DAMN, THAT HURT, and then it's back to trying to calm the spooked horse. Which is exactly the right attitude to have. (Though if you've never been hurled face-first into a pile of sun-baked manure because your horse saw, idk, a twig on the road, you might not appreciate how even-tempered a character Arthur is for never succumbing to the temptation to yell, "COME ONNNN GIVE ME A BREAK IT'S A STICK YOU SILLY BITCH!")

Horse responsiveness. The horse emotional cues in this game are incredible, from their reactions to other animals and weather events to their reactions to Arthur. You can see the horse's neck muscles tense and relax when being calmed, their eyes changing in size, their head drop and raise in response to the reins, and their annoyance seeping through with stomps and pinned ears well before they start to spook. When Arthur speaks to his horses, you can even see a subtle ear flick backwards as they listen to him. When he gives certain commands (such as a mild squeeze of the knees to speed up a bit), a calm and attentive horse will often issue an affirmative snort; this is incredibly lifelike and essentially a "roger roger" between horse and rider. I was also impressed that Arthur uses his thighs and his knees to cue his horse more than his heels. Usually you just see the dramatic heel cues in in video games, but in real life, a rider gently but firmly squeezes their knees/thighs far more often than laying into their horse with boot heels, which is a fabulous way to get sent to the moon. One thing I would have liked to see is more riderless idle horse animations. Lazy or bored horses do a very classic pose where they rest their weight on one side, cock a hip out, and jauntily kick a back hoof up. It would have been right at home at the hitching posts in RDR2, and the horses are otherwise so lifelike, I find myself missing this little pose.

Historical bits. As players, we don't have much choice with this, since Rockstar matched bits to saddles rather than letting us customize them. With that disclaimer out of the way: Arthur uses a wide range of bits, some of them much harsher than others, designed to offer more control over a difficult horse's head through pressure points within the mouth. This is historically sound and far from obsolete in modern horsemanship, though I would certainly avoid using some of the harsher bits in RDR2 on my horses to avoid hurting them accidentally. That said, it's important to note that "harsh" control bits (like those wickedly straight-shanked bits you see with some of the cooler saddle styles) aren't instantly or automatically painful. While many of us modern horsegirls may frown upon the just-for-the-hell-of-it use of many styles of old-school, Wild West bit, in the hands of an experienced horseman with a good sense of appropriate rein pressure (which we can assume Arthur is), even a curb bit should not be a tool of pain. In the hands of a novice, however, some of those bits would absolutely hurt a poor horse's mouth and are typically reserved for troublesome (potentially dangerous) animals who may need to be curtailed quickly. I'm assuming Rockstar chose them for style more than characterization... but I do wince when I see those hard stops with the straight shanks, every time.

Horsetalk. We all know Arthur baby talks horses, and that his babble to his horse increases in affection with bonding level and varies a little depending on the horse's sex. But he also does something peculiar and frankly delightful with his vocal modulation on certain horse chatter lines. In those moments where he seems to go a little vibrato, warbling his voice as he talks ("waiaiaiaiaiaiaiat! come bahahahahack!" he calls after a fleeing mustang), Arthur is actually mimicking calming/positive horse sounds (usually a friendly nicker or a greeting whinny) in an attempt to communicate in horse language. While I think a TON of horsegirls have secretly nickered at our horses when no one else is around the stable, making horse noises at your horse is not a "traditional" training technique, and imo is something other gang members would definitely make fun of him for. It is also very adorable. I wanted to add that while horses are excellent at noise commands (like whistles, clucks, kisses, etc.), they usually aren't very good at identifying spoken word commands, including their own names. Therefore, the majority of the talking Arthur does to his horse is just free companionable chatter, much like we babble to our house pets. The command is in the cluck, the leg pressure, the yah, the rein slap; it's not the spoken, "Come on, girl, here we go!" That's just Arthur being a horsegirl.

Saddle checks. If you pay close attention, in cutscenes and in the map, Arthur will occasionally reach down and test various pieces of his saddle. This is particularly true with checking the cinches (those big straps that loop behind the front legs and under the belly), which good riders often do, as saddles can adjust during a ride. Straps that are too tight or too loose will cause a horse discomfort, since they change the way the saddle rests upon them and distributes the rider's weight. You can even watch the saddle shift when Arthur mounts and dismounts, reflecting the changed distribution in weight! This honestly floored me the first time I saw it. Rockstar really consulted people who know their stuff.

Bad Habits. IMO, Arthur's a little slouch-backed in the saddle. This is noticeably worse if he's hungry or sleepy, but even well-fed and rested, his shoulders drop and curve out his spine more than is ideal. This won't hurt his horse, but it will come back to bite him directly in the lower back as he ages, and I argue it's probably biting him in the ass a little now. (More on that below.) Arthur's "behind the horse" etiquette isn't particularly lifelike. In RDR2 (as in life), sometimes idling or benignly messing around behind a horse will cause them to randomly kick, and any equestrian knows not to hang out aimlessly in the kick zone. IRL, if you're about to walk close behind a horse, it's good etiquette to reach out and gently lay a hand on a horse's hip to let them know you're going to pass behind them before you step into the kick zone. I would have liked to see an animation for this, but I'd guess this would have been a real pain to animate without "locking" Arthur in place (as with the petting and brushing animations), so I can't really count this against him in good conscience. He also holds his reins in a full fist rather than between the appropriate fingers. This is a novice mistake, but I'm guessing this is an animation choice more than a characterization one, because I can't imagine getting those wobbly rein physics to rest perfectly between a model's wee little fingers. Which brings us to...

Reins. Arthur keeps a pretty tight (though not oppressive) grip on the reins when he has a horse in motion, facilitating quick communication from rider to horse and increased emotional response from the horse, and he tends to use both reins when he isn't holding something else. This increases control and often allows for clearer communication between horse and rider in comparison to the laxer "rein knot" one-handed Western style. More on that point: Arthur sometimes holds the reins in one hand. This is not lazy horsemanship, but rather a mainstay of the Western riding tradition; holding the reins in one hand allows for a rider to keep one hand free for whatever they might need... usually rope/weapons. Using two hands, one rein in each, does deliver much more refined control (especially with a nervous or inexperienced horse), which is why you often see Arthur switch between one- and two-handed riding. Rockstar also makes the clever choice to make reins “stretchy” so they move with the neck and simulate rider give and restraint, rather than having them just flop around at a static length. This makes reining feel a lot more dynamic and responsive, in my opinion.

Bareback vs. Saddle: To Rockstar's credit, riders' carriage when bareback is entirely different from the saddle carriage animations, and displays a lower center of gravity.

This note is a bummer, but it is, I feel, an important one to know. Arthur is WAY TOO BIG to ride a significant number of horses in the game. Horses are not bikes or cars. In real life, it's extremely important to consider a rider's weight and height and general carriage when matching them with a horse, especially for long-distance rides... and unfortunately, Arthur is prohibitively huge. If I saw a man Arthur's size astride that teeny little Morgan, boots tips damn near dragging, I'd give him a piece of my damn mind. That said, it's just a video game, so if you love that white Arabian or that sweet little Morgan, ride without shame; you are not hurting a pixel horse! But if you're into max realism or a horse an experienced rider like Arthur might conceivably choose for himself, go for something larger, leggier, and stronger. Though Rockstar fictionalized their breeds a little bit, I think one of their taller well-balanced styles like the Dutch warmblood, standardbred, Hungarian, Andalusian, or even one of those svelte Americanized Belgians suits Arthur much more comfortably. Online's Kladruber would also be an excellent choice for Arthur. (Ain't nobody saying SHIT to Arthur Morgan on a heavy breed like a Shire, though they aren't well suited for everyday long-distance all-terrain riding, and I feel sympathy pains about that leg spread just thinking about it. Speaking of...)

Real talk about Arthur's "swagger": Though I'm 100% sure it's a dominance thing for some crusty ol' cowboys, most equestrians don't saunter around Like That TM because they are listening to Rod Stewart croon If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy at all times. That "swagger" is just... well... to be blunt, it's sort of what happens to your gait after you spend all day with your legs straddling a big animal moving on rough terrain. Hang out with some adults who have ridden horses daily since they were wee beans and they'll tell you allllll about what it can do to your posture. Contrary to cowboy jokes, it's not so much about being bowlegged (which is massively exaggerated as it pertains to horseback riding) as it is about lowering one's center of gravity to compensate for things like muscle strain, spinal compression, and lower back pain. Due to the high impact nature of riding, many career horsepeople develop chronic back problems and "swaggers," and for some it's eventually more comfortable to ride than to walk. Not saying you can't hc an Arthur who struts his stuff, of course! Just saying that, for those of you who might struggle to reconcile Arthur's blisteringly low self-esteem in his physical appearance with his "swagger," here's a horse world answer.

Knights Templar'ing it. This is another bummer for a ton of cute fanfic scenes, but riding two-to-a saddle is really not good for a horse. It's not just about raw weight, but about the distribution of that weight and where the pressure rests on a horse's back/organs. A bean like Little Jack sitting right in Arthur's lap isn't going to add too much stress to a horse big enough to carry a tanky dude like Arthur comfortably, but a whole second adult sitting behind a saddle is a very different story. Imagine the difference between carrying someone piggyback versus having someone stand on your spine! It's all about the position. Larger breeds can tolerate riding double for a while, but it should not be done for long distances, and it definitely should not be done if a rider expects to need heavy exertion from the horse. Adults riding double doesn't happen too often in RDR2 (usually just during an emergency), so this isn't a critique of Rockstar or Arthur; it's more so a helpful realism note for fanworks. An experienced horsegirl like Arthur is sure not to ride double casually. Pro-tip: If you want someone to teach your (non-bean-sized) OC how to ride a horse, consider having the teacher controlling the horse from the ground via a lead/lunge line while your OC sits in the saddle.

Oof, that smarts... When Arthur picks up hay bales with short sleeves on/bare hands, he makes a soundless "OOF OOOH EEEE OUCH" face. The first time I saw this, I absolutely lost it with glee. Anyone who has moved hay (or straw; they're different!) with bare arms knows how prickly and scratchy and itchy it is, and it's loving little touches like this that make RDR2's horses feel so darn real.

That's all I can think of for now! I hope this list was at least somewhat helpful, even if it's far from an all-encompassing resource on horsey stuff in RDR2. Happy riding, meatverse horsegirls & virtual horsegirls, and remember to always thank your horse :)

[dotthings]

Dead Boy Detectives notes for ep 7

* Esther vs Cat King make really fun antagonists.

* Richard Speight Jr directing

* Night Nurse ranting about how difficult it is to get someone back from Hell, the permits and the approvals! and no one wants to go there!! is sending me

* Charles making a deal so he can go into Hell himself and raise Edwin from Perdition this is fine

* Crystal insisting she go with Edwin to Hell, Edwin refusing, Crystal deciding to get there herself by making a deal with her horrible ex who is a demon, and Jenny racing after Crystal because she shouldn’t be doing that alone. This friends circle all looks after each other.

* And Niko is being the only sane sensible one in the joint, making constructive suggestions

* Edwin’s spirit found Charles when he was shivering and alone and confused about what was happening and he brought Charles a lantern and he made him laugh and offered him guidance and was there for him to escort his spirit from the living to the dead. He acted as Charles’s psychopomp. (Oh hi there Carver and Yockey. I’m appreciating this in its own right but having all kinds of Thoughts here)

* “You really gave up a potentially tranquil eternity for your friend?”

Because that’s what restless spirits with big hearts do. Sometimes they refuse to cross over. Sometimes even if they’ve crossed over they take a drive and go on an adventure breaking the rules. Because they’re still looking for something. (Again with the Thoughts. The parallels here are driving me insane).

* Really loving the design and gestalt of this sequence of Charles’s journey through the various levels of Hell

* Charles carrying that same lantern!! *heartclutch*

* Master stroke payoff on a little “throwaway” moment earlier in the season of Edwin’s aversion to a creepy broken doll. Throaway moments are usually…not. It all means something.

* Edwin’s rejection of Despair, of vengeance. Now I’m thinking of Charles who said he wanted to be good, who thinks he’s only his anger. And now Edwin’s fear of being taken over, being defined, by his darker emotions too. Neither want to be defined by that. Darker emotions are part of who people are but don’t have to define them. Integration with and acceptance the whole self is the main idea.

* Simon not wanting to leave Hell because he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything else. Someone who isn’t evil. He didn’t know, he made a terrible mistake. Sometimes people get eaten by their own fears and self blame and the weight of their mistakes and can’t see another way

* Jenny admitting she cares!!

* Crystal and her ancestors burying her abusive ex a demon who is only about cruelty in the ground. Not vengeance or despair. Justice.

* “What are you doing here” “I’m here to rescue you” THIS IS FINE I’M FINE1!!!

* ROMANTIC LOVE CONFESSION. IN HELL.

* “I just need you to know” (It’s not in the having it’s in just being)

* Getting love and acceptance back. No matter what. And they’ll figure out what it all means—they have an eternity to figure it out.

* Jenny, reclined with a wet washcloth over her forehead: “Niko, did you just say someone is back from Hell?” Jenny is having A Day (I know that feeling, Jenny. It’ll be okay)

* Subverting the system from within. Using the cosmic red tape against the system.

* “I know I’m not the bravest but I have excellent reading comprehension skills” Niko <333

* Using “Burning” as the music cue (this song is fire, it was used for the Echo opening credits, great song). “Lay your red hand on me baby as I go” WAIT A MINUTE—

Speight’s directing in this ep was phenomenal and that Speight OF ALL PEOPLE DIRECTED THIS EP WITH THIS PARTICULAR PLOT, I—

CARVER AND YOCKEY I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE AND AM LOSING MY DAMN MIND THANK YOU SO MUCH

[kindheart525]

unpopular opinions on the fim show?

I’m not entirely sure how many of these opinions are unpopular in the fandom as a whole, but they seem kind of uncommon compared to what shows up in my feed so here goes

Pinkie’s family is not abusive or toxic. I know they are portrayed as extremely old-fashioned and strict in their lifestyle, based on what is probably a surface-level understanding of Amish communities. This makes it easy to compare them to similar communities irl who engage in practices like shunning. But the Pies’ behavior in the show and especially Pinkie’s attitude towards them seems to make clear that they have not shunned or abused her despite her “leaving the community.” In other words, I think there are key differences between the Pies and some of the real-life people they were meant to emulate, so it’s inaccurate to say that abusive Pie headcanons have any real basis in the show. I wrote more on this opinion here.

Zephyr Breeze is not nearly as likely to be a deadbeat dad as some might think. He was shown to be on the road to being more responsible by the end of his own debut episode, so I highly doubt he’d be the same pony he was at the beginning of the episode by the time he would become a father. Not that I don’t think he could be at least a little bit irresponsible as a dad; I just don’t think he’d leave his child or not love them. I wrote more on this opinion here.

Amending Fences was a missed opportunity for a very important friendship lesson, one that the show never dared to touch. Which is that sometimes people are incompatible and sometimes your old friends won’t forgive you. Instead, Moondancer was written in an extremely exaggerated way (her whole life was ruined by one rejection??) yet this wasn’t regarded as an overreaction at all. It was weirdly handled at best. I wrote more on this opinion here.

Rarity gets a bad rap from the fandom. I don’t know if it’s her mediocre taste in stallions or if there’s something about her ultra-feminine nature that some people don’t care for, but I think her maturity and intelligence are severely underrated. Of course she can be a drama queen, but so can Twilight and Pinkie and pretty much every other member of the main cast. Rarity had a breakdown over getting a fashion piece critiqued, but Twilight blew up at her friends over having a late paper; the two scenarios really aren’t that different.

Just because Rarity has multiple crushes on mediocre stallions (Blueblood, Trenderhoof) doesn’t mean that she would sleep around or have a tumultuous love life. Haven’t most people had celebrity crushes? Multiple celebrity crushes, in fact, and also multiple crushes and relationships involving people they actually know before finding “the one”? I’m sure a lot of people have also been disappointed to find out the celebrity they fancied is actually a terrible person, like Rarity has. It’s part of the human experience for many, and Rarity’s TWO moments of poor judgment are not a reflection of her whole character or even her full palate of romantic taste.

Along with being a drama queen, Rarity can have moments where she’s materialistic and selfish, like the time she convinced Spike to give her his fire ruby. That was not a good moment for her. But on a bigger picture, materialistic and selfish is not her usual state. She is literally the element of generosity!!! She made Gala dresses for all of her friends FOR FREE! She has also shown herself to be a leader among her friends, at times taking charge and coming up with plans in Twilight’s absence much like Applejack does sometimes. One example is Castle Sweet Castle; the whole premise of the episode was Rarity’s idea! To help Twilight feel more at home! It’s clear that her generous spirit informs her actions through most of the show, unlike Rainbow Dash who’s only truly loyal when the plot needs her to be.

Yes Rarity is flawed, but all her friends are too. Her flaws are not objectively worse than the others. In fact, Rarity was literally under mind control once and still regarded Spike as a genuine friend, while Rainbow Dash sold one of her best friends into indentured servitude completely sober (among a long list of other things). Twilight yelled at her friends that she didn’t need them, also with an unaltered mind. Rarity has had her own hurtful blowups ofc but hers aren’t any worse than the others. Give her more credit y’all.

Speaking of Rainbow Dash, I’ve seen a number of opinion posts about how she and Applejack should switch their elements (so RD is honesty and AJ is loyalty), but as I started rewatching the show myself I’ve come to disagree. Rainbow Dash may be honest, but her brand of honesty is extremely rude. There’s no integrity behind it, not like AJ’s honesty. Rainbow Dash in general is extremely rude. There are a lot of points where I’ve wondered if she even likes her friends. There was also that Secrets and Pies episode which establishes that Rainbow Dash has lied prolifically to Pinkie over something that meant a lot to the latter, so RD really isn’t that honest either. I do agree that AJ would deserve the element of loyalty if she didn’t already have honesty. But you know who else is loyal? Spike. The elements of harmony would honestly make more sense if RD were just removed from the group entirely and Spike replaced her as loyalty /hj

I promise I don’t actually want to remove Rainbow Dash from the show, I just really wish she was written better. That’s what fan fiction is for I guess 😂

I have mixed feelings about AppleDash as a ship. I really like the fandom portrayals of it which is why I reblog quite a bit of AppleDash art, but canon alone doesn’t seem to show the good side of their dynamic very much. All they do is argue. Applejack is normally mature and levelheaded, but around Rainbow Dash she’s much less so. Dash really brings out the worst in her sometimes. It’s much different from the loving bickering that people write for them in fan works, which I think is a better spin on the dynamic. If I went off their canon interactions alone, I could see them being exes or on-and-off lovers at most, not a stable, long-term married couple.

This would only be unpopular in very specific circles, but I think it’s pretty stereotypical to insist that Rainbow Dash and Applejack are lesbians primarily based on their tomboy interests and the former’s rainbow mane. It’s one thing to headcanon them as such just because you want to, and that’s perfectly fine! I write Applejack as a lesbian too. It’s another to insist that it’s canon based on xyz evidence from the show or think it’s wrong for anyone to ship them with stallions. Even if you consider AppleDash canon, one or both of them could be bi or pan for all we know. Canon tells us very little about their sexualities so there’s a lot of room for different headcanons. I wrote more on this opinion here.

(More specific to the next gen community) Just because Fluttershy is good with animals does not automatically mean she would be a good mother. There was a whole episode (Stare Master) about how she couldn’t handle babysitting even though she thought her animal caretaking skills made her qualified. Obviously she was shown to be much better with kids later in the show (becoming very popular among the School of Friendship students), but again that’s teaching, not parenting. This isn’t to say that I think Fluttershy would definitely be a bad mom, just that her being good with animals is not a solid reason for her being a good mom.

I definitely have more opinions about the show, characters, and fandom of mlp, but I don’t think many of them are so unpopular. Like for example:

I don’t think the Apples would be queerphobic just because they value tradition and are coded as Southern US Americans. The word “tradition” doesn’t automatically equate to conservative politics, and even if it did, these ponies have been shown to learn new things all the time. But all the trans Big Mac positivity I’ve been seeing tells me that a lot of people agree with that sentiment.

I don’t think most of the popular/generic ships of the fandom (like FlutterCord, FlashLight, and SoarinDash) are necessarily bad or devoid of positive chemistry, they’re just way too often written in extremely boring and generic ways. But I’ve also seen such ships written in unique and interesting ways so I think there a lot of people who also understand that sometimes all they need is a more creative approach.

Episodes like Over A Barrel, Bridle Gossip, and She’s All Yak (among others) were horribly handled and should not have been written. I don’t even consider them canon. I don’t know about the larger fandom, but most of the next gen community that I interact with feels the same way.

I think Starlight’s backstory was stupid and contrived, but it seems like the whole fandom thinks so too. We’re all rewriting it lmao

[wannaeatramyeon]

Reader telling off and piquing Sammy’s interest pls

Roll up roll up, time for Samuel's degradation hours. Er... so you know how I said I don't really do NSFW? This is a little steamy. Just a touch. A tad.

This is the first time I've even tried to write NSFW, IT ALL JUST CAME OUT (that's what she said). I am so so sorry if this is completely off the mark of what you asked!

Samuel Seo x Reader: Degradation

A little NSFW

You've been a thorn in Samuel's side for the last couple months. A VVIP along with strict instructions from Eugene to show the best Worker's hospitality.

Too bad you are at each other's throat from the moment you walk in.

"This thug is the president?"

Samuel wears one of his closed-eye smiles, especially prepared for the likes of someone like you. He lets your words wash over him, "All the better to look after you while on Worker's grounds, Y/N."

"Y/N? A bit familiar are we?"

"Sorry ma'am," he forces himself to bow.

.

.

Samuel dismisses you as another worthless rich daddy's girl, fed full with silver spoonfuls of nepotism.

"This is what you do all the time? Pointless meetings and admin?"

"That's how C-suites at my level operate. Maybe this is useful work experience for you." He eyes you lying lazily on his office sofa. He can't find any errors with his initial judgement of you.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that it might be useful for you to see how the way of the world works "

.

.

As the weeks fly by, your distaste for each other only grows.

"The president of the affiliates following me around like a dog. Don't you have anything better to do?" You round on him in a quiet corridor, digging your nail into his chest.

Samuel grabs a hold of your hand, "I only babysit those that are unable to take care of themselves."

Your face is inches away from his, "How dare you speak to me that way."

Samuel leans in close, murmuring in your ear, "I will speak to you however I want."

"I can't believe Eugene has partnered me with someone as useless as you,"

Samuel lowers himself to look you straight in the eye and baring his fangs, "Maybe you haven't shown your usefulness."

.

.

Each run in with you leaves him more and more heated.

Sometimes at night, Samuel would dream of ways to shut you up. Your mouth only screaming streams of unintelligble words and moans as he uses and abuses you.

In reality or fantasies, the way you look at him stays the same. Eyes full of revulsion and loathing. He prefers it that way.

.

.

You are exceptionally vexing and distracting one evening. Taking up your usual position, lounging on the office sofa as he works towards a deadline behind the desk.

You could have left a while ago, but something about making Samuel's life harder spurs you on.

"Enough, Y/N." Samuel has heard enough of your garbage. "I hear you need Workers as much as we need you."

"Excuse me?"

"So why don't you be a good little girl and behave."

Samuel watches you out of the corner of his eye, striding towards him with purpose. You slam your hands down on either side of his chair.

"Would you like to check your previous statement with Eugene? Because we sure don't need your little company."

"That's not what my sources-"

"I don't care what your sources say. If I walk away now, you and the whole of Workers is fucked."

Shit.

"You should really do your due diligence." He doesn't respond. You know you've got him against the wall.

You lean close.

"You can't touch a hair on my pretty little head, President Seo." You have never addressed him this way before, but fuck if Samuel doesn't feel his body flush at how the words sound coming out of you.

"You can't touch me at all." Samuel's eyes flicker down to your lips.

"And I can do whatever I want." You don't miss the way his eyes rove all over you. You think of a new way to domesticate this wild dog.

"Do you feel like a big man walking around as president? With all these little ants below you?" Samuel feels himself being pulled forward as you twirl his tie around your finger.

Usually he would stop this, but tonight he finds you aggravating, maddening, intoxicating.

"Did you pick out your glasses and style your hair and wear that cologne to impress everyone around you?" His adam's apple bobs as you inhale deeply from his neck, lips almost touching.

"To show how beneath you everyone is?" Feeling the ghost of your breath sends a thrill down Samuel's spine.

"Mr. President, I don't need any of that to show my power." Your tongue darts out for a taste as he releases a shaky breath.

"Let me guess, you rose up from nothing." You walk your talons along his inner thighs, feeling the muscles twitch underneath.

"You made it here and think you can go further." Your hands finally find what they are looking for. You grab onto his hardened length and squeeze.

Samuel represses a whimper, biting his lip to stop any sounds from leaking out. This is humiliating enough as it is. But he is powerless to stop your onslaught.

"You think you have that little badge and meaningless title, and you can speak to me like an equal." Samuel starts to pant as you take his earlobe between your teeth.

Your hand is relentless. You are not gentle.

"You are insignificant. The definition of mediocrity. Pathetic." Fuck. Samuel looks at you with anger and hostility. Never in his fantasies did he think the roles would be reversed, and so goddamn exhilarating. He can't bring himself to make you stop.

"Playing dress up and pretending to be a man?" You backhand him, knocking his glasses askew. Complete desire clouds his eyes.

"When really you're just a disgusting little boy?" Your hand moves even quicker, gripping harder, and Samuel feels his body tense as he draws closer to release.

"Who can barely keep themselves together in the presence of a woman?" You give him another harsh slap, and the cool air stings his cheek.

Finally, he allows himself to groan. Your name slips out unbidden between his lips.

"You will only do as I say, move as I say, think as I say." You suddenly remove your hands and Samuel barely stops himself from whimpering at the loss of friction.

"I own you, and everything around you."

You roughly grab his face, forcing him to refocus on you.

"Now come for me."

Samuel eyes widen equally in pleasure and horror.

The realisation sinks in a split second before anything happens, but there's nothing he can do to stop himself reacting to your words.

You silence his groans with a kiss as he comes undone.

[siampie]

Finding You||Chapter 2

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3 k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse.

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. I don’t have much to say about this chapter. Apart from the fact that there’s some set up for Reader’s own story.  

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Masterlist || join my taglist

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705, @shouldbestudying41,

@beezusvreeland

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I have to talk to you, call me.

That was all what your sister;Mary;had texted you. She had sent it last night while you were sleeping. You couldn’t call her that morning. Not being in the same time zone made communication between you difficult but not impossible. It had also triggered your anxiety. What did she want to talk about? Maybe it was nothing too important. You were trying to convince yourself. A feeble attempt to calm your nerves.

Still, you were anxious. You usually called one another on the week-ends. And you never asked to call. It was never a thing. That she went out of her way to ask you to call was strange and worrisome. So being in a different time zone than your sister, you waited for your lunch break to call her.

“So, how’s life in Dublin?” You sister asked you once she picked up the call. You stood outside of the building. Your sister was finishing feeding her son his breakfast as you were calling her.

“Good.” You answered quickly. “How’s the little one?” You knew what she was doing, she was stalling. Whatever she had to say must be really bad if she felt the need to stall. So, you played into it. But the fact that she was stalling only spiked your anxiety levels.

“He’s growing up.” She said, you could hear the smile in her voice. Your sister had always wanted to be a mother and after years of trying with her partner, she became one to a healthy little boy. You were happy for her. “But it always seems like he’s trying to get himself killed.”

You snorted. “It seems like he’s failing so far.” You heard the clatter of utensils on the line. “Why did you want me to call?”

“Oh, boy!” You sister let out a long breath. “It’s about mom.”

“What about her?” You let out a shaky breath.

“Dave may have told her where you live. Giving her your address and everything.” Mary told you.

Dave was your brother. You did not have a good relationship with him. You didn’t hate him but he had failed to show up anytime you asked for his help. While you showed up each and every single time. And he sometimes had the audacity to blame you for being ungrateful for all that he was doing for you. You could not be grateful for something he had never done or that he done once in a blue moon. Whereas he failed to see all the times you had helped him.

He had not been in favor of your moving away. Judging that the money that your father had left you, should be shared amongst you. Because that was what your father would have wanted; for you to share the money equally. But you had refused. You were going to but the fact he suggested the idea. No, not suggested. Demanded that you do it, had made you decide otherwise. You chose to enjoy the money your father had left for you. Mary and Matthew had found it natural that your father would leave that money to you. You had earned it for all the sacrifices you had made for them.

After all, your sacrifices had allowed them to move out, to live their lives. It had allowed them to fall in love and build their own home and family. While you remained behind, taking care of your father, and maybe wasting your life away. They knew what you had done for them. And all they wanted was for you to finally be happy. This money was your reward. And you could do with it as you pleased.

You felt your anger flared up in your veins. You took a deep breath before you spoke. Trying to leave the anger out of your tone. Your sister was not the one who betrayed your trust. She was only the messenger. And you didn’t want to yell at her. Not at your sister.

“What the hell did he do that for?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “All he said was that mom asked and he saw no reason not to tell her.”

“Look, I get why all of you want a relationship with her. I do. But I told you, I don’t want to have a relationship with the woman.” You reminded her.

“I know that.” Mary reassured you. “And Matt knows that. And so does Dave. And honestly, I don’t know why he did that. But you’re in Ireland. She’s not gonna show up on your doorstep. You really think she’s gonna waste money on you?”

“No, I don’t think she will.” You replied, leaning on the wall behind you. “Still, I don’t want her to know where I am. She’s still with that prick, isn’t she?”

“They’ve been together for twenty years. And there’s no sign of a separation. They are more in love than ever.”

You scoffed. “Of course they are.”

“Listen, I don’t think they are gonna come and find you in Ireland. And why would they?” Mary tried to comfort you.

“To stir shit up.” You replied.

“I think she genuinely wants to have a relationship with you. And I know, you don’t. And Dave was wrong to give her your address.” Mary kept on. “I don’t think she’s going to show up, I just needed you to know.”

That gave you pause. “You don’t think she’s going to show up. But you needed me to know that she knew where I was?”

“Yeah—just in case.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Just in case. Yeah, she’s definitely showing up. With her boyfriend.”

“Husband.” Your sister corrected you.

“Fantastic.” You said dryly. “Remind me again why I decided not to go no contact with Dave?”

“Your goddaughter.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.” Your sister breathed out. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t?”

“The bad kind.” You joked softly. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Say it back.” You frowned up.

“Talk to you later.” And she hung up. You immediately texted back a middle finger emoji.

You laughed when she texted it back to you. You dropped your head back against the wall.

Your mother had left when you were a child. And immediately after leaving your father, she had found love in the arms of her new husband. After years of emotional abuse, and manipulation on her part, of constant walking in and out of your life, you put a stop to it. You couldn’t go through this anymore. It was too painful. Plus, you hated her new husband. He was—he was not good. You had tried to accept him. You wanted to. But something about him, the way he behaved around you, made you afraid and unsafe. You couldn’t have that in your life. You didn’t want to feel that way anytime you were around your mother. You stopped any attempt at having a relationship with her. You no longer wanted her in your life.

Hopefully, your sister was right, your mother would not make the journey to Ireland. You were hoping for it at least. Your life was finally getting together. You were at peace here in Ireland and you wanted it to stay that way.

As soon as you got home, you discarded your shoes by the door, dropped your bags by the couch and fell into it. That day had turned out to be a long one. You loved hearing from your sister but you had regretted to call her at all. Especially with the bit of news she had given you. You should have stayed in bed this morning. Although, if you had—you would not have met your quite handsome neighbor.

Your mind flashed back to his soft hazel eyes, and the lone dimple that appeared under his beard when he smiled. Quite handsome, indeed.

“Damn it!” You cussed. “He’s a criminal. A drug lord and a murderer. You can’t find him attractive.”

You shouldn't and you wouldn't. He was a Kinsella and they were dangerous people. You needed to stay away from him.

Dressed in grey leggings and a large hoodie, you were enjoying your small diner in front of mind-numbing TV. When the red and blue lights flashed through your front windows. The Garda were down your streets. Shortly after they arrived, you heard the heart wrenching wail of a woman down the street. You slowly put your plate down. What had happened? You knew by the sound of that scream that terrible news had just been delivered.

The flashes of blue and red had vanished a while after that. You were lying in bed, hopelessly trying to fall asleep. But your thoughts could not just stop swirling around in your mind. Jimmy and Amanda had lost their son; Jamie Kinsella. The local news had broadcasted the news on their websites. It was brief and they didn’t have much information. But all of them relayed the same information over and over again. Jamie Kinsella had been shot and died on the scene.

You couldn’t help the sadness that taken over you when you read the news.  He was barely seventeen. Too young to die. He was just a child. You knew how it felt to lose a parent. It was painful and heartbreaking. In your case, you had time to say goodbye and come to terms with it. It was a loss; it was painful but not in the way the world perceived it. You had known it was coming. And you had already mourned your father before it ever happened. You had expected it.

As for Jamie, it was unexpected. It was so sudden and brutal. How did one prepare for such a death? How did one prepare for the loss of a child? It was not the natural order of things. That was not how it was supposed to go. A parent should never have to bury a child. And yet, it happened.

Why were you affected by it? Yes, it was sad. A young life had just ended but you barely knew him. It shouldn’t bother you that much. It shouldn’t affect you as it did. Your thoughts inevitably drifted to your neighbor next door. How was he feeling? How was he coping with the loss? Was he over at his brother’s to bring his support? Or was he alone in his home dealing with the loss on his own? No one should be alone when dealing with a loss. You knew how terrible it was to receive no comfort. To just stew in your own pain, alone.

Seeing as you couldn’t sleep, you had moved downstairs. You quietly made your way into your kitchen, looking for something that may help you fall asleep. The gold door light of your neighbor was filtering through your large window. Against the dimmed light, you could make out the silhouette of a woman walking away from Michael’s house. It was too dark out for you to be able to tell who it was. You watched as she disappeared behind the brick wall.

It must have been hard on all of them. Especially after they had all celebrated Michael’s release from prison. And now this. The tragic loss of a child. You could only imagine how Jimmy and Amanda were feeling. And Michael—

You took a deep breath and grabbed your keys off of the hook. You stepped out of the front door, in the chill air of the night. After you locked your door, you hugged yourself to keep warm and made your way to your neighbor’s door. You two had just met and this was probably bold of you to assume. But you thought that he might not want to be alone to face this. And maybe you were wrong. Maybe Michael did not mind being alone. That thought alone made you hesitate. Still, you made your way over to his doorstep. Your fist hovered for a few seconds. Hesitating. With another deep breath, you knocked three times. And you waited. You were growing more nervous as the seconds went by. You hugged yourself tighter. The door swung open revealing Michael behind it.

“Michael, hey.” You greeted him. Shoulders slumped, eyes red from crying, Michael looked tired and pained. Although, he tried and failed to hide it all behind a mask. “I saw the Guards earlier—” You went for the direct approach. And mentally slapped yourself for it.

“So, ya know about Jamie?” He nodded solemnly.

“I do.” You nodded. “I just came to see if you were—how you were doing?”

He scoffed, his sorrowful gaze dropping to the ground. “Not great.”

You puffed out a shaky breath. “I don’t mean to intrude or—” You trailed off. “Do you want to be alone?” You questioned him. His eyes snapped up at you. His brows scrunched up in confusion. His eyes roamed your face, studying you. “I know what it’s like to be alone when you lose someone.” You blurted out. “It’s not great but—if you’d rather be alone—” You trailed off.

His sorrowful eyes scanned you over. Studying you. You had surprised him. He clearly did not expect his neighbor that he barely met, to come to him in the middle of the night. Especially not to offer him comfort. Comfort that he desperately needed. Birdy had told him that he needed to be there for Jimmy and Amanda. Amanda had asked him what were Jamie’s last moments like. And for all of them, he had shown a brave face. He had stood strong but he was there too. He had seen it all. And no one had stopped to ask how he was feeling—except for you. His gaze roamed your face, he noticed how you tightened your arms around your middle.

He cleared his throat. “D’ya—want to come in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Michael stepped to the side to let you in.

So much for staying away from the criminal next door. There you were, in his home in the middle of night. The layout of his home was almost identical to yours for the most part, kitchen by the front door. The hallway that led to the living room. You left your slippers by the front door and followed Michael to the sitting room. He sat down in his couch as you stood by the doorway. Putting a semblance of distance between you.

“I was there,” Michael said after a few minutes of silence.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words before your eyes fell shut. Pained to hear that he had seen it happened. He looked up at you, grief etched into every line of his face.

“He was laughin’, messin’ around and then—he was just gone.” Michael said quietly. His face crumpled as a set of fresh tears fell down his face. His hand quickly wiped away any traces of them.

“I’m so sorry you had to see it.” You said quietly, tears pressing against your eyes.

“He was just a boy.” Michael continued quietly.

“I know.” You were itching to reach over and just pull him into your embrace. Would he even allow it?

“Birdy told me I need to be there for Jimmy and Amanda.” His voice cracked. “Losin’ their son and everythin’. But—I—I lost him too.” He buried his face into his hands. “Jamie was—” His voice muffled by his hands. You waited for him to finish his thought but it never came as a sob racked his body.

You quickly wiped away a stray tear from your face. You moved to go sit down next to him. Your arms slowly and gently wrapped around him. And pulled him into you. His hands went up to your forearm, around his neck. You leaned your cheek on the top of his head. Whispering words of comfort as he wept. You probably had overstepped boundaries here. But what were you supposed to do? This was the only way you knew how to bring comfort.

Your ran your hand on his back in a soothing circle. When he seemed to have calm down, he pulled gently away from you. Your arms fell back at your sides. He ran his hand over his face, erasing the tears that had fallen there.

“Sorry.” He apologized as he did so.

“Don’t be.” You shook your head. “It’s okay.” You started to run your hands on your thighs, in a nervous manner. “I just—I’m so sorry about Jamie.”

Michael nodded solemnly; his eyes red from crying. He rested his hand on your knee. Your breath hitched in your throat at the gesture. Your eyes went to his face. He was staring at you, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Thank you,” He said. “For askin’ and for—bein’ here.”

“Ah.” You nodded, smiling softly. “I have no merit. I was just doing my neighborly duties.”

“Is that it?” Michael retorted his voice still thick with emotions. He cleared his throat. “Is that why you here?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, I know how it feels like to lose someone and have no one there with you; to comfort you. When you desperately need it. It feels very—”

“Lonely.” He finished for you.

“Yeah.” You stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. “And should you need a shoulder to cry on again—I’m right next door. Whenever you need.”  

He squeezed your knee gently, as tears welled back up in his eyes. A warm smile made its way onto his face. You had meant it. You probably shouldn’t have offered but you couldn’t help yourself. Michael Kinsella had looked so broken and so pained; it was hard to not offer comfort when he needed it. You knew too well, what it was like to not receive any when you needed it. And Michael needed it.

You just really hoped you had helped a little.

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[glitteryinknotes]

A little follow-up to my previous post.

[https://www.tumblr.com/glitteryinknotes/733101911814848512/there-is-a-level-of-deep-bitterly-poetic-and?source=share]

This one line is the perfect irony I was talking about. Astarion's most gentle and vulnerable side appears in that moment; clinging to the idea that there is good in the world and people who bring it exist, because that abused, terrified, helpless, poignant part of him wants to believe that, needs to believe that he's not alone and will not have to face his greatest terror alone, now that he knows all too well what it means to be an underdog, less than a person, dependant on somebody else's whim, someone who holds all the cards in the circumstances he's been forced into. Against Cazador, without Tav and the gang, he is as defenseless and vulnerable as the tiefling refugees he was so disgruntled by protecting and helping at the very beginning of the journey.

And we all know it is heartbreaking to hear him say that right after.

At the same time, those lines are quite unlike his usual self. The Astarion who doesn't care about anyone's business but his own, won't scoop down to help anyone in need unless convinced to or ordered to or lured in by the promise of entertainment, and only has a heart for you and maybe a few of his favourite companions. This line comes from the part of him that only developped after everything he's suffered and came to see that people who abuse power are genuinely loathsome and a plague on this world.

...wickedly ironic that he can say THAT in the very same conversation.

The parallels between both Ascended Astarion and Astarion The Magistrate, and Cazador are way too obvious. Again, delightfully ironic.

A little personal confession at this point: I was always obsessed with the idea of Tav finding out about Astarion's life from centuries ago, and confronting him about it in some way. It's not impossible, if he indeed was a magistrate, some records of his "ruling" must be kept in some form of city archives, and all it would take is a trip to the city to do a little digging in the library. I think it would be challenging, but in a rather healthy way for him to see clearly what kind of a person he was (especially after the events of the game, with Cazador dealt with); seeing the parallels between not just who he could have become had he chosen to go through with the ritual, but his "original" self and his abuser, and being forced to reflect on the kind of person he will be in the future; someone following in those footsteps, or someone, while retaining his mischievous, hedonistic, self - oriented instincts, choosing to be better. Different. More than that.

I believe that after everything that's happened to him, there is no separating Astarion's innate instincts of self - serving from his survival instincts of self - preservation. We can never know for certain where does one begin and the other ends, we can only hope to steer both in the "good" direction as a trusted, healthy influence, either as friend or partner. Preserve the goodness and kindness, the capability od which he has developped after being brutally and forcefully "humbled" for two centuries while still giving him space to be gleefully... Well, himself.

[therealvinelle]

what are the cullen’s hobbies? (not canon ones, things and activities you think they’d enjoy - even if being a vampire made it a little difficult or damn near impossible)

God, my eye is twitching with the desire to give them the weirdest hobbies imaginable.

The Cullens have an insane amount of money and time, and their powers (ultra-fine muscle control, amazing vision, etc.) means they will excel at a lot of hobbies.

The hobbies they are prevented from by their vampirism are things involving animals, professional sports (as you'll have to submit to drug tests and your health and fitness routine being monitored), close contact with people in general, food-based hobbies, and hobbies were humans are likely to bleed one way or another.

To say nothing of how niche a hobby community can get. Everyone knows everything about everyone, and that opens up for a level of scrutiny a vampire might not be prepared for.

So, let's assume these barriers aren't an issue for whatever reason. What do the Cullens do?

(I... admit I wasn't entirely able to resist that weird hobby urge.)

Alice might just find herself doing cat or dog shows. The level of perfectionism and effort that goes into preparing your pet (depending strongly on breed and fur quality, of course, some breeds require little if any preparation. The universal experience, though, is GROOOOOOOOOMMMM and if it’s dogs, then TRAIIIIINNNNN your dog) could very well appeal to her, and I imagine she'd develop her own coat products. Silicone powder, color-enhancing shampoo, volumizing spray, she's got her own line, to say nothing of the edge her gift would give her, as she would know which puppy or kitten to buy. (The "which cub am I choosing?!!" issue being a common one because when a puppy is 8 weeks old you simply do not know if it will grow up to be a hottie or not, and it’s not much easier with 12 week old kittens. This is a science.) Her pets win everything.

Carlisle, well, the trouble with this guy is his work is his hobby. And it's already one vampires are supposed to be unable to do. The man is a fluke. Carlisle's hobby is now to be able to contribute to medical research and reference patients from the 1820's without anybody asking questions.

Edward... god, all I can picture is some intensely esoteric craft, one that five people in the world can do and that creates something beautiful and meaningful. Making instruments, the rarer and more elaborate the better, is the name of the game, I think.

Emmett would love to compete. He's a vampire, he's going to win at everything anyway, he's incredible. He kicks the butts of seventeen-year-old humans who worked hard and makes them all cry because he just took their scholarships. He whoops, beats his chest. VICTORY!!

Esme, cooking competitions. She's winning them all. And, because anon said to remove the vampirism problems, she's not eating her competitors.

Jasper is into theatre. Not because he's particularly interested in it, oh no, he just likes to abuse his gift this way. With his gift he can make the other actors bomb their scenes, or make an untalented schmuck seem like the next Rex Harrison. He's in a movie club for the same reason. He made one guy laugh during Schindler's List. Just the one.

Renesmée, if finding the limitations of her hybridness lifted, becomes a freestyle diver. Who needs to breathe? Usually Renesmée, but not anymore!

Rosalie has her cars already, but she strikes me as a horse girl. Give the girl an unafraid horse, and the ability to compete without that being an issue, and our girl is on a Dutch Warmblood competing on a national level in dressage.

[theerurishipper]

Hey I have a question I read some takes that Adrien is a supposedly good liar? How though are there any examples..I always just assumed people never put two and two together with his identity is because he doesn't connect much with the class nor does Gabriel so it made sense in my head. I'm sorry if I don't actually make sense I just assumed that if even one of the classmates kept getting closer with him maybe he'll open up. I thought that'd be Nino but like I feel that he's so much more closer to his girlfriend and with Kagami that scene where she backed him into the wall and she said that wasn't the real him when he did goofy poses made me uncomfortable and sad for him. Marinette kind of disappoints me as a love interest like that time he was in the park on the bench and she decided that this was the perfect time to give him a present made me annoyed like I understood she has such a huge admiration for the guy and will climb mountains for him but I thought she'd get past that and they'd have like a one on one you know a talk. Usually the love interest would start to bond and grow closer but like I feel she's more into the relationship for herself because of this whole fantasy she builds up in her head it's why their relationship kind of a bummer.

I don't think Adrien that hard to get him to open up to but again this is my own opinion. I don't know really I just feel if someone like a teacher, classmate or even Master Fu get him to open up more and more and they start to bond. I feel like all he wants is a relationship to not be so conditional if someone kind enough allowed him a shoulder to cry on or even acknowlege his habits or when he's in a bad mood I think it'd work I ain't sure though. I wish the dude had more male friends.

I don't really get why the classmates just think Gabriel a strict dude when he seems pretty abusive. Marinette especially she knows how strict he is especially in season 5 and the whole adrigami thing and even with Chloe mom lol I think abuse or parental abuse just doesn't register an actual thing in her mind which is weird lol.

I don't watch Miraculous religiously lol I just watch it sometimes so if my takes and memories are wrong please forgive me. I am so sorry for this being a long ask I ramble way to much.

No need to apologize anon! Feel free to ask me anything.

Personally, when I say that Adrien is a good liar, I don't mean lying in the traditional sense. He doesn't do a lot of actual lying (except when it comes to his secret identity), but it's more than he doesn't really reveal his true self to anybody. He doesn't fake his personality per se, but he only shows people the parts of himself that he thinks they will like because he's been conditioned to believe that he has to conform to everybody's expectations of him and be perfect for them. It's why Chat Noir is so different from Adrien Agreste™, because he's always performing in every part of his life. And putting on a mask at all times isn't the best way to connect on a deeper and intimate level with the people around him. I think Adrien's friendships with Nino and Kagami and everyone else is real, and whatever he shows them is genuine, but it's still not all of him, and he still feels the need to hide the parts of him that he feels they won't like. His relationship with Ladybug is an exception (obligatory until Season 4 disclaimer) because while he's still putting on a performance, it's not for the sake of pleasing her.

You mentioned his closeness with Nino, and I always felt that Adrien was more at ease with Nino than anyone save Plagg. He was more relaxed and at ease with Nino in like, Seasons 1 and 2, enough to show a little more of himself, and I got the sense that he was a little more open with Nino. Then Rocketear happened and Adrien pretty much shut down on that front and started to put on the mask even more, and their friendship never was the same after that.

The thing with Kagami is that she was right about Adrien. Chat Noir isn't his "true self," it's a persona based on him acting out in the way he's never allowed to as Adrien. And the model Adrien is a persona crafted based on the demands from his abusive father who expects him to be perfect. Kagami isn't able to see under Adrien's mask, but she's able to understand that he's putting on a front, and she wants him to quit it.

Marinette kind of disappoints me as a love interest like that time he was in the park on the bench and she decided that this was the perfect time to give him a present made me annoyed like I understood she has such a huge admiration for the guy and will climb mountains for him but I thought she'd get past that and they'd have like a one on one you know a talk. Usually the love interest would start to bond and grow closer but like I feel she's more into the relationship for herself because of this whole fantasy she builds up in her head it's why their relationship kind of a bummer.

This is exactly the problem I have with canon Adrienette. Marinette literally doesn't even know that Adrien is putting on an act, and she literally thinks he's perfect. It was so funny to me when Pretension made Gabe out to be so wrong and evil when he accused Marinette of falling wholesale for Adrien's performance, because Gabe was fucking right, damn it.

The problem is that the show never challenges Marinette's view of Adrien. She doesn't have to learn to look past his masks and see him for who he really is, he just up and tells her thanks to an Akuma's influence, and then he spends the rest of the time in Season 5 pursuing her, so she just gets handed her trophy boyfriend without having to put in the effort of getting to know him as a person. The show never wants Marinette to be inconvenienced by *checks notes* learning to see Adrien as a person, and it just wants her to get her dream relationship without an effort on her part to truly understand him. She's not much different from the rest of her class or any of Adrien's fans, because they all just see what they want to see and what he shows them. By virtue of them being the endgame, Marinette should have been special in that she tried to look past the masks to understand the real Adrien once she realized his "perfection" was a front and an act, but she didn't. She remained as delusional about him as she always was and got the relationship dropped in her lap. Thanks, I hate it.

I don't think Adrien that hard to get him to open up to but again this is my own opinion. I don't know really I just feel if someone like a teacher, classmate or even Master Fu get him to open up more and more and they start to bond. I feel like all he wants is a relationship to not be so conditional if someone kind enough allowed him a shoulder to cry on or even acknowlege his habits or when he's in a bad mood I think it'd work I ain't sure though. I wish the dude had more male friends.

I don't think it's that simple for him to break out years of being conditioned to conform to other people's needs, but the fact remains that, you know, no one even cares. Kagami was literally the only one who cared enough to try and understand him, and even she was made to spend Season 4 as Adrien's bitter ex (not Kagami salt, I love Kagami, this is just writing salt). The rest of the class admits in Felix that they don't really know him, and they never really seem to try to get to know him either. They do care about him, but not that much, you know? Everyone is honestly content to keep seeing him as the perfect guy, and no one tries to see the real him. Like I said, I feel like he was a little more open with Nino in the earlier seasons, and he's more open with Plagg, but that's about it. He was a little more open with Ladybug, but that also went down the drain in Season 4 because of the Ladynoir conflict. It took an Akuma for him to open up to Marinette. I don't blame anyone for falling for his act, but they clearly don't really care to get to know him either. I think you're right in a way, that he would be a little more willing to drop the act if someone tried to understand him, like Nino and Plagg. But no one cares, unfortunately.

I don't really get why the classmates just think Gabriel a strict dude when he seems pretty abusive. Marinette especially she knows how strict he is especially in season 5 and the whole adrigami thing and even with Chloe mom lol I think abuse or parental abuse just doesn't register an actual thing in her mind which is weird lol.

Tbf they don't know much about what goes on inside the Agreste household, and they are just kids, so I understand that they wouldn't be able to completely recognize what's going on with Adrien. But the show itself doesn't think Audrey and Gabriel are abusive, and Marinette is basically the mouthpiece for all that, hence the solution is that apparently Chloe and Audrey should just bond, and Adrien should be fed a lie that Gabriel is not a bad guy actually. Marinette seems to have a pretty black and white view of the matter, and since she comes from a loving home, it doesn't really register to her that parents can be so awful. But the show frames Marinette as in the right to push Chloe and Audrey together when what Chloe needs is to get the hell away from that abusive person. It tries to frame her as right for gaslighting Adrien into loving his abuser. It's pretty nasty stuff.

But that's just my opinion. Honestly, I think the best meta on this subject is this excellent post by @fearlessinger. It's a wonderful analysis, I highly recommend it.

Thank you for your ask!

[lollytea]

Do your huntlow kids know the extent of abuse that their father went through? How do they handle seeing hunter ad the the golden guard and EC mentality?

Kinda. They know that Hunter's childhood was bad. Really really bad. They know where his scars came from. Hunter has told them everything he has the heart to say. He never goes into graphic detail because he doesn't want to upset them too much but he tells them enough that they understand the weight of the situation.

Both kids are very familiar with the history of Belos and his reign over the Isles. Iris has studied the topic excessively. So they're fully aware that he was a depraved individual so it's not like Hunter really needs to describe what it was like to be raised by him. They can imagine.

Meeting the Golden Guard was very jarring for them. They were confused. They were uncomfortable. They were a bit scared. I imagine that it was the kids who found their parents in this state and after panicking for a bit, they reported it to the Healing Coven.

I think if you stop and picture how those kids must have felt, it's devastating. They're from a warm, loving household. They have kind, supportive, affectionate parents who have always made them feel safe. And now, suddenly, their parents are gone. Actually, they're worse than gone. They're right in front of them but they're not their source of safety and comfort anymore. Neither Hunter or Willow have the same loving look in their eye when they see them. It leaves the kids feeling gutted.

I think there's a lot of potential for comedy here. Iris has very strong political opinions and is very quick to provoke into arguments if you press any of her buttons. The Golden Guard practically slams his hand down the whole damn keyboard. Every second word out of his stupid mouth is EC rhetoric, and it has Iris vibrating with rage. He makes her see red so intensely that she almost forgets he's her dad. She has to be constantly stopped from picking a fight with him. Ironically, she gets both her argumentative nature and her strong beliefs regarding the EC from Hunter himself.

Jup is a little more level-headed when it comes to dealing with the Golden Guard. His temper isn't as easy to trigger and he doesn't let Hunter's spew of cringe monarchical garbage bother him because he never forgets the situation they are in and that their Dad is stuck somewhere in there. Jup tries to appeal to Hunter's empathy, which is somewhat effective. Its hard to make him trust them entirely because they've established themselves as "wild witches" (extremely outdated term) so Hunter is still a bit prickly whenever they show up. But after an hour or two, Jup can usually get him to brighten up with the right conversation topic. But Hunter still won't let him touch him. Jup tries not to let it bother him but honestly, he just misses his Dad so much and it hurts a lot that he's sitting right in front of him but he can't even hug him. Hunter was always a very touchy affectionate father and Jup was always a touchy affectionate son. But now his Dad is acting like a total stranger and Jup feels very lonely.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "the bloody sadist"?

YOU FUCKING BET!!!! I love having the opportunity to list my favorites for anything, though I'm also incredibly picky about fanfics, so I don't actually know (until I start scrolling my bookmarks and listing them) if I'll reach a whole 10 favorites!! But I might! (Note: these are in no particular order)

What I Want From You is Sweet by VampireFaun (Heaven Official's Blessing) [And basically every other work that she's written! But some of my other top favorites of hers are The Thing That Was Not His Highness and Beast With Two Backs]: When I can't get a fanfic out of my head, I usually end up drawing an illustration based on it, if I'm bold enough to risk depicting an author's precious words (rare). This is my MOST re-read fic and I won't ever stop. It doesn't help that VampireFaun/Deer is a WONDERFUL PERSON and I love her personality so much. She's an incredible writer!

Tenfold by dgalerab (Bungou Stray Dogs) : Baby's first fic! This was one of the writings that immediately roped me into the fanfic world. When I first was into it, I was under the impression that everyone just went there to write half-assed explorations of sex between characters, and that wasn't so appealing to me. When I discovered that some people can write entire 25-chapter PLOTS with the level of literacy that matches what I hoped to read??? I was hooked. Obviously you can see in this list that I have strong devotion to a handful of fic writers and my favorites are just the top best fics that I return to of their writing. If I find a great writer, I subscribe to them and go on a rampage of consumption through their list of fics, my fandom or not! Please consider doing the same for those authors that I mention like that!! You'll find so much gold. Everything by dgalerab is good in some way, I have almost all of their fics bookmarked. :') My only complaint about this particular story was that HOLY FUCK THE AUTHOR CUT SO MANY SCENES WAY TOO SHORT LMAO. Please let me have a full comfort scene for more than two paragraphs T_T I worked so hard for it. I cried so much. ANYWAY, STILL A HUGE INSPIRATION FOR WHAT I WENT ON TO WRITE!

What You Have Tamed by Parsnipit (Heaven Official's Blessing)

Love is Hard, Life Sucks by gev_ao3 (Bungou Stray Dogs) : A painful inspection of the nuances of domestic abuse. This one rang true to reality so much that I don't think I can re-read it without having a depressive episode. It's not finished, but it's Fyozai, and you know how I feel about that. Also side-plot SKK! I usually can't stand AUs, but this one fits the situations very well. It's the type of fic that only someone who knows a little too much about how abuse works on a victim can write.

Careful Fear and Dead Devotion by intimatopia (Trigun Stampede) : Yet another fic that I couldn't help but draw for! And intimatopia was kind enough to link it in his fic summary T_T - A super angsty sadomasochistic fic about Vash needing pain and Wolfwood needing to give it. If I don't list any other fics by him on here, it's because I'm such a huge enjoyer of his writing (one of my favorite fic authors), so nearly all of them that don't hit on personal triggers are in my favorites category. He's a master at pinning down the PERFECT depictions of characters that make them feel as canon as possible while also becoming more tangible and real. The ZhongXiao, AyaThoma and Kaeluc fics are incredible. Read them all! However, I will mention that one of his fics that first stuck with me was his Kaeluc AU Northbound & Reaching ! Carys has done a lot of BSD fics too, of which a few stick out to me like They Say You Gotta Fake It and that one Soul Eater AU he did where Dazai was a knife in Chuuya's drawer who gained a body. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT WENT CUZ I CAN'T FIND IT TO LINK YOU BUT GO LOOK THROUGH ALL HIS FICS FOR IT. IT'S REALLY UNIQUE.

Top 5 works, I guess?? As I mentioned several times while gushing, three of these account for entire lists of the author's works that you should enjoy if we share the same taste! VampireFaun, dgalerab, and intimatopia are my top fic authors, and I've read everything they've posted as long as it didn't contain anything personally triggering - and have learned about new fandoms even! Also, Alaruya didn't make it on this list, but they have a Fyozai fic that really inspired me with its imagery and language. I link it in my Sinner fanfic if you're interested!

I have quite a few other random fics I enjoy, but most were from a Heaven Official's Blessing craze recently and then BSD works that inspired me in some way, but they're not very unique or long, so I felt like this was the best collection to list. Most any fic that explores Dazai struggling with self-harm or neediness or asexuality has my attention. It just has to be written well!

AS FAR AS MY NAME - YOU'RE THE FIRST TO ASK THAT QUESTION! I'm a big fan of...how to explain...slightly dehumanizing titles?? Something that isn't really a name, but a description of me in some way. Something that makes me feel mysterious and yet also gives everyone who reads it an idea of the type of works I'm creating. Of course, my main personality trait is being sadistic, and I love the word sadist, and I love putting THE in front of literally any title because I DON'T KNOW LMAO...I'm THE ONE. That kinda thing. I'M THE GUY!! YEAH I'M THE BLOODY SADIST GUY! THAT ONE! I also love smashing words together, so I was like, I can't just be THE sadist....what else do I like....and that's about it. If I name myself I tend to have trouble ever using anything else in reference to me, so Sadist has stuck from the very beginning. It's going to be very hard to part with that name once I publish a novel and have to use a first and last name...

THANKS FOR THE ASK!! I HOPE YOU ENOY THOSE RECS.

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 14/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

This took longer than I intended, but it’s an angst chapter and I was in the middle of writing it when THE FUCKING FULL MOON EPISODE DROPPED and that kinda made it difficult to finish.

Anyway, yeah, incoming angst, but it’s literally just the beginning of a nice long stretch of angst. (Look, I’m a Millennial gay man, angst was the #1 developmental attribute of my youth)

CW: Charlie I said don’t do that, possible abuse dynamic overtones, there is more Vox in this chapter than there is Alastor

•••

Charlie knew that her best chance had come when Alastor came to her and said, quote, “I’ll be out of pocket tonight, my dear. Try not to burn the hotel down in my absence.” She hadn’t pried, simply telling him to have a good time, but she knew he was most likely doing something with Angel. Her thoughts were confirmed that evening, when she caught a glimpse of them as they left the hotel together. Alastor looked much the same as he always did, but Angel… well, Angel didn’t do anything by half measures, and the elegant black and deep red dress he had chosen looked like it was meant for one of the Vees’ galas. And not only was it gorgeous, it complimented Alastor’s usual attire so well, it almost made him look fancier next to it.

It was… concerning, yes, because Angel had his contract and Alastor was— well, he was Alastor, that was about all that needed to be said. But it was so sweet, and they both looked so happy.

Was she meddling again?

Vaggie was out for a bit, so Charlie just headed to their room, shutting herself in and curling up on the window seat. She then immediately got back up on her feet and started pacing, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She took a few breaths to calm herself, did a quick little search, and called VoxTek.

•

Vox closed the message from Blitzø informing him that he was heading out after Alastor and the little slut, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands. He glanced over his bank of screens, showing an amalgamation of current programming and security footage, but he didn’t take in a damn detail of it.

It didn’t make any sense. Well, no, Angel made sense; Angel was property and obviously dissatisfied with his current arrangement with Valentino, and he was hoping to hitch himself to a different overlord who could ‘save him’ from the horrors of the porn industry. It was a fucking stupid choice—I guess I shouldn’t call it a choice, but acting on it is fucking stupid—because Alastor was famously disinterested in anything like… whatever it was Angel was trying to do.

Did he think he was going to get, what, affection from Alastor? Sex? Vox scoffed at the very idea. He didn’t know which one was more ridiculous. It was astonishing the spider still had all his fucking limbs.

But what Vox couldn’t understand was what the Hell it was that Alastor was doing. He couldn’t have possibly been so hard up for company that he would lower himself to Angel’s level, was he? And if he was going to kill Angel, he would just do it. Alastor didn’t play this cat and mouse shit… at least, not typically.

There isn’t any way he actually sees something in that… in that…!

The intercom buzzed, jarring Vox out of his thoughts, and he had to resist the urge to scream at his secretary for interrupting him. Instead, he took a deep breath, pressed the button, and put on his public smile to ensure he had his proper voice. “Yes, Nina, what is it?”

“You have a telephone call, sir. From Princess Charlotte Morningstar.”

Vox blinked slowly. Of all the names she could have said… “Regarding what? Did she say?”

“Simply that she needs to speak with you. She emphasized it is not a business matter, but a personal one. Shall I offer a call back?”

“…no,” Vox said after a moment of thought. “No, put her through. I’ll speak with her.”

He attached his internal speakers to his phone line, answering it the moment it rang. “Good evening, Princess! Such a surprise to be hearing from you.”

“Oh! Ah, yes! Hello, Vox,” the princess said, her voice transparently nervous. “I’m glad I caught you still at work, I was afraid you might have left.”

“Not for another few hours, at least.” Vox didn’t feel the need to tell her that he lived in the tower; he didn’t like making himself any more accessible than was strictly necessary. “A pleasure to finally speak with you. I never did get a chance to formally apologize for your treatment on Katie Killjoy’s program.”

“Hm? No, no, that’s okay. And don’t worry, I’m not calling to— to ask for another slot. I actually wanted to speak to you about something more personal.”

It seemed their airheaded princess really didn’t know how much she wore her heart on her sleeve. “Of course, Your Highness. I’m all ears.”

•

Vox sounded exactly like he did on television. It was so surreal, actually having that voice carrying a conversation with her after so long of simply seeing him on different programs. Charlie forced herself to stop pacing, plopping down onto the window seat again.

“Thank you, Vox. It’s— well, I won’t lie, it’s about Angel Dust.”

“Oh?” Vox sounded a little surprised, but only a little. “Ah, yes, Valentino mentioned your concern for him as your resident some time ago. But you do realize, of course, that Angel Dust is Valentino’s employee. If you have concerns about him—”

“No, it isn’t about his employment,” Charlie said, cringing at the memory of that day. “It’s about his… about the soul mark situation.”

“Ah. I see. What, specifically?”

“Well… I’ve heard about Angel’s deadline to break it,” Charlie said; Vox didn’t answer, so she figured he was just listening. Not being able to see him was difficult. “I was hoping I might be able to talk to you about giving him some leniency?”

Vox made a soft, thoughtful noise. “That could be difficult, Princess.”

Charlie frowned. “Why?” she asked, trying not to sound confrontational. “I don’t understand what’s so bad about Angel having a soul mate. Everybody does.”

“Yes,” Vox agreed. “The problem isn’t the fact he has found a soul mate. The issue is in its visibility, and the purpose his work serves. I understand why you ask,” he said, when she opened her mouth and took a breath in to respond, “but, here at VoxTek, our media is all about… escapism. Relief from the burden of Hell, you might say. Angel Dust is, after all, our premier porn star. Even if you aren’t a connoisseur yourself, I’m sure you can imagine what him bearing such an obvious mark would do to the immersive nature of his films. Few people wish to imagine themselves with someone who already has a soul mate, one that they’ve found. Besides, when I spoke to him about it, he assured me there was no connection between the two, so I fail to see what the issue is.”

“There wasn’t,” Charlie said, realizing she had started pacing again. “But that’s just the thing, there is now. And I don’t think that they want it broken, they both seem so happy whenever I see them together—”

A sudden burst of feedback made Charlie wince, and she pulled her phone away from her ear, cringing. It only lasted for a moment, and she gingerly raised it again when she heard Vox’s voice. “I apologize, Your Highness, electronic interference is unavoidable sometimes.”

Charlie sighed in relief. “Right. Of course. It’s fine.”

•

Vox turned away from the bank of monitors that were now either playing static or test patterns, if they were on at all. He left his monitoring room and returned to his office, slamming his hands onto his desk and dragging his nails through the polished wood top.

“Well, Princess Charlotte, how about this?” he asked in a perfectly calm voice, even as he felt digitized blood running out of the corner of his mouth. “I will speak to Valentino. Should Angel Dust and his… companion—” the wood around his nails cracked “—decide they do not wish to break their bond, I will meet with Angel Dust myself and we can discuss alternative options. How does that suit you?”

“Oh, would you?” the princess asked, her voice full of a naive sort of joy. “Thank you so much for this, Vox. I really do appreciate your help.”

“Of course, anything for the Morningstar family. You can trust us. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that was all. I won’t take up any more of your time. Have a wonderful night!”

She sounded so… fucking pleased with herself, didn’t she? Vox said a pleasant goodbye, hung up, disconnected from his line, and then stared at the desk.

They both seem so happy.

Alastor… is happy?

With that?

Vox didn’t believe it, not for a moment. There was absolutely no way the Radio Demon could possibly be happy being tied to… to a…

“FUCK!!!” Vox screamed, flipping his desk over as the lights began flickering overhead. Distant noises told him they were flickering all over the building, but he couldn’t make himself care. Let them know he was pissed. It meant they would leave him alone.

Vox wasn’t going to stand for this shit. It wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t let it happen. And if he had to skin that fucking spider alive, he would make sure it didn’t happen.

•••

“This place is expensive.”

“Shh. Listen.”

“I’m listening,” Loona mumbled under her breath, leaning her jaw against her fist and flipping through her menu without actually reading it. Across from her, Blitzø was doing a very bad job of playing things casual, in as much as he was outright staring at the corner table a short distance away.

Loona glanced over, flipping back to the first page of her menu as she did so. She would have recognized Angel Dust anywhere; he had a huge media presence on Sinstagram, and despite being a sinner confined to Pride, he had a massive and rabid fanbase in the Lust Ring. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she followed his socials, primarily because he was always posting adorable fits and that fucking cute as shit hellpig of his (and his captions were always so weird). But if she hadn’t known the man next to Angel Dust was the Radio Demon, she never would have guessed that he was anything but a creepy fucker who wore way too much red.

She was, at least, familiar with the Radio Demon. His broadcast went out to all the Rings, which made him something of a massive curiosity to the Hellborn. Of course they’d all heard of the Vees, VoxTek having expanded all over Hell through a rumored partnership with Mammon, and sinner TV programs were almost more popular than their own. But the Radio Demon had no such partnership, no assistance from a Prince, which meant the power of his broadcast just came from him. That was insane to imagine, one single sinner having enough power to boost that signal so far.

They say the soul of a sinner has infinite potential, as long as they keep growing and don’t get exterminated.

Angel Dust and Alastor were alone at their corner table, and rather than sitting across from each other, they were functionally sitting catty corner, both of them with their back to a wall. Loona would have guessed that this was so they could keep an eye on the whole restaurant, but they were a lot more focused on each other than anyone else.

“What are they talking about?” Blitzø asked as he positioned the camera to be able to capture shots of them as unobtrusively as possible.

Loona’s ear twitched. “The atmosphere. Alastor’s making wine recommendations. Apparently the overlord of Cannibal Town is over fine dining in Pentagram City and this is one of her pet projects.”

“Well, isn’t that just fucking fascinating,” Blitzø muttered, tapping the button on the camera. It took a rapid fire series of photos, the clicks so quiet Loona could barely hear them.

“Blitzø, can we really afford this?”

“Get whatever you want, Vox gave us a card for business expenses.”

“…oh. Shit. Cool,” Loona said with renewed enthusiasm, looking at the menu more seriously. She kept her ear swiveled towards their targets, however; she wouldn’t tell Blitzø this, but since he was finally allowing her in on a real job, she wasn’t going to fuck it up. Yeah, it was because she was the only one at I.M.P. with even halfway decent hearing, but she was gonna prove that leaving her out in the past had been a mistake and that she was indispensable as a field agent.

Her ear twitched when Angel Dust spoke again. “I’m surprised you got a restaurant you actually like,” he said. “Thought nobody’s cookin’ was good enough for you except yours.”

“As I’ve told you, my dear, your pasta is wholly acceptable,” Alastor answered, laughing when Angel Dust slapped his shoulder. “If it isn’t good enough, then I can give Rosie infinite grief over the state of her establishment.”

“Hey. Blitzø,” Loona murmured. “They’re just chatting about nothing, so lemme ask you something.”

“Hm?” Blitzø didn’t look up at her.

“Why were you being so hard on Millie?”

Blitzø stopped moving for a moment, then glanced up. “Because she and Moxxie were five minutes from finding our targets and trauma-dumping on them. And probably getting themselves killed.”

“Hm.”

“…what?” Blitzø groaned, lowering his head and rubbing his brow.

“Sounded more like you were venting your own relationship insecurities.”

He peered at her through his fingers. “How many fucking times do I have to say it’s not a relationship?”

Loona shrugged. “Until you believe it, I guess. Oh, shit, they have white truffles.”

“I do believe it— since the fuck when did you start eating mushrooms?”

“Since the fuck I had the Vees buying me dinner. I might get them just to look at them.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Blitzø said with that weird, dreamy tone.

Loona rolled her eyes, her ears flicking backwards for a second. “Whatever,” she muttered, as Blitzø set up another shot. She glanced at their targets again, and watched Alastor cover one of Angel Dust’s hands with his own. Angel Dust was actually blushing, which was downright shocking after all the more provocative things she had seen him post. “Still think you sounded like you were taking things really personal.”

“I don’t have to put up with this level of emotional manipulation,” Blitzø muttered. “I should have done this by myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, and then you would have tried to get closer so you could actually hear them, and then you’d get caught, and then you’d die,” Loona said, unconcerned. “We both know you’d be screwed here without me.”

“If I’d adopted you earlier, I wouldn’t have let you learn how to talk.”

“You’re like fourteen years older than me. He out of the hospital yet?”

“I can’t believe you’d talk to your elders this way,” Blitzø grumbled, picking the camera up off the table and looking through what he’d taken so far. Loona narrowed her eyes and kicked him under the table. “Ow shit okay, fine, yes. Yes he is.”

“You been to see him yet?”

“Nope.” Blitzø put the camera back on the table, repositioning it to face their targets again.

“…are you going to?”

“Full moon isn’t for a while, so… no?”

Loona rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone, opening her texts and finding her ongoing conversation with Octavia. After following the Goetian Princess on Sinstagram for so long, it was so weird actually being able to text her, even though they’d technically been in some form of contact or another since the debacle in Hollywood.

< hey girlie, howz ur dad holdin up >

“Still think you’re being stupid,” Loona said, putting her phone away; between Octavia’s long bouts of leaving her phone on Do Not Disturb and her spurts of communication anxiety, she didn’t expect to get anything back for a while. “When is this contract gonna be done?”

“When the Vees are satisfied with our results,” Blitzø said. “I’m hoping this will be enough and they’ll let us out of it tonight, or tomorrow.”

A few words caught Loona’s ear and she twitched, then snapped her head over to stare at the two sinners. Angel Dust was looking down at the table and smiling, but he looked sad. Alastor… was still smiling, but his voice sounded… awkward?

“What?” Blitzø asked. “What did they say?”

“They’re soulmates,” Loona murmured. She then looked back at Blitzø. “The Vees want us to break up soulmates?”

This looked like it was as much a surprise to him as it was to her. Blitzø’s eyes were wide, and he slowly turned his head to look at the sinners as well. One of his hands went up to his neck, covering the right side where the white was marred with some other color just along the edge of the scar.

“…Blitzø…?”

He didn’t look at her, but he pointed at her with his free hand. “You’re sure that’s what they said?”

“Yeah. Positive,” Loona said, frowning. She had always assumed Blitzø had some kind of neck tattoo or something that had just barely missed being spared by the scarring, but she was starting to think she was wrong. Blitzø didn’t even look like he realized he was covering it.

“You’re not going to breathe a word of this to Millie or Moxxie.”

“What? Why?”

Blitzø looked at her again. “Because you saw how Millie reacted to the idea of just interfering with a date. If she and Moxxie had any idea we were fucking with a soul bond? They’d lose their shit and I am not in the mood for that.”

Loona exhaled sharply through her nose and looked down at her menu again. “Whatever.”

They didn’t talk much for the rest of the evening. Blitzø took more photographs, and Loona kept her ear out for anything else interesting, but their targets’ conversation wasn’t really… about anything. If she had to guess, she would have said that they were actively avoiding a topic; she could feel an odd weight in their pauses, in their occasional silences, and especially when either one of them laughed.

At least the food was good, and it was going to cost the Vees a fuckton of money.

They waited until their targets had been gone for about fifteen minutes before they finally got up and left. “I’m going to go talk to him,” Blitzø said. “You should go on home.”

Loona looked at him. “You’re gonna talk to them alone?”

“Mhm. I can handle it,” Blitzø said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s a fucking stupid idea.”

“Story of my life, sweetie.”

Loona really wanted to argue, but Blitzø seemed determined to get himself killed during this contract, and she wasn’t really in the mood to keep bashing her skull against the brick wall that was her adoptive father. “Whatever,” she said as her phone vibrated; she pulled it out and opened Octavia’s text message.

< He’s insisting he’s fine. A physical therapist from Sloth is coming by three times a week and he hates it. It’s kind of funny. I’m thinking about filming him next time he takes his pain killers. >

Loona smirked and messaged her back.

< fuk yea. do it >

“Just don’t be out all fucking night, I don’t wanna have to come back to Pentagram City to find your ass,” she muttered.

“I knew you cared about me.”

“Pushing it,” she snarled.

He laughed, giving her that little salute he did, before he tossed her the van keys and headed off in the direction of VoxTek. “Take the van to Moxx and make him give you a ride home before he plants himself,” Blitzø called. “Tell him I’ll let him know if he needs to stay or not.”

“Fuck, okay, whatever,” Loona muttered, flipping the keys around her index finger and heading for the van. Once inside, she started it up, then called Moxxie as she began driving. “Hey. I’m coming by your place. Blitzø might die tonight, he’s meeting with the Vees alone.”

Moxxie took a long, long moment to register what she said. “…wait, what?!”

•••

“I had a lovely evening, sha.”

“So did I, Smiles. Thanks.”

“But of course! You do have so many interesting outfits. It would be a shame if they didn’t get out more often.”

Angel laughed a little, leaning up against his door jamb with one set of arms folded and the other clasped together in front of him. “Didn’t take you for a lover of fashion,” he said, pointedly looking at Alastor’s own clothing.

Alastor’s grin turned a little sharper as one hand came up to tug at his bow tie. “Simply because I am disinclined to change my own attire does not make me incapable of appreciating it on another.”

It was an innocuous statement, but something so close to a compliment on his appearance from Alastor of all people made Angel blush. He covered it up as best he could with a soft laugh. “Well, you won’t get an argument outta me. Sure you don’t wanna come in for a bit?”

“Regrettably, I can’t,” Alastor said, and from the way he smiled, Angel could tell… he really did regret it, even if he didn’t say why he couldn’t. “But I am sure I will see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Alastor moved like he was going to touch him, but then hesitated; even though part of Angel thought the hesitation was silly (especially at this point), he understood the reason and simply leaned a little closer to show him it was welcome. Alastor’s hand cupped his cheek, and he pulled Angel down into a gentle kiss that was nowhere near as intense as the night before, but still more intimate than they had once been. As they separated, Alastor stroked his jaw with his fingertips as he slowly pulled his hand back. “Sweet dreams, mon kè.”

Angel didn’t know what that meant, either, but he liked the way it sounded. “G’night, Smiles.”

•

Angel’s door opened and closed, and once he was gone, Alastor was surrounded in shadows before he, too, was gone. Then, there was nothing but silence in the hallway, only underscored by the gentle buzz of the lights that ran all day and night.

Husk couldn’t decide if he felt bad about eavesdropping or not. On the one hand, Angel was his friend (at least, according to Angel), and doing something so underhanded concerning a thing that really wasn’t his business felt… well, like it wasn’t his business. On the other, he was pretty certain now that Angel either had no idea what he was doing or was willfully ignoring all of the signs that should have been pretty fucking obvious to a guy with that many eyes and such a long history of bad decisions.

It didn’t help that watching Alastor kiss someone was unnerving. Husk half expected him to tear Angel’s throat out with his teeth; that would have made sense. This… didn’t.

The kid’s gonna end up hurt at this rate.

Even though it still really wasn’t his business, Husk gave it a few minutes, then crossed to Angel’s door. He knocked on it, then called through the wood, “Hey, kid, you in there?” Better to pretend he hadn’t been spying, he supposed.

“Hold up!” Angel called, voice muffled, and he still took almost a minute before he came to the door. When he opened it, Husk could see why; he must have been changing, because his dress was gone and he was in a pair of shorts and a large sweater. He raised one arm to lean against the door jamb. “What up, Whiskers?”

Husk’s sigh at the nickname was completely involuntary. “You got a minute? I wanna talk to you.”

Immediately, Angel frowned at him. “This ain’t one’a those capital-c ‘Conversations’, is it?”

“Not if you don’t make it one.”

“Fffffuuuuuck,” Angel groaned, tipping his head back. He then pushed off the door and went back into his room, but since he left it open, Husk took that as all the invitation he was going to get.

He stepped through and closed it behind him, then took a minute to glance around. “It looks like a strip club in here,” he observed, his eyes scanning the room and only stopping when he saw Fat Nuggets staring at him. The hellpig looked as curious as a ‘no thoughts, head empty’ little guy could be, and Husk found himself nodding to Nuggets in acknowledgment before wondering what the fuck he was doing.

Thankfully, Angel noticed none of this. He crossed to his vanity and sat down, starting the process of removing his makeup. “Look, Husk, if you’re here to gimme another surrogate father kinda talk, you can skip it. I ain’t interested.”

“Wouldn’t call it that,” Husk said, stepping into the room and closer to Angel without actually getting into his space. “But you know why I’m here.”

“Alastor. Why else wouldja be?”

“…yeah. Alastor,” Husk said, folding his arms. “…Angel… what the fuck?”

Angel glanced at him through the mirror. “Don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Husk immediately dismissed every single reason Angel could possibly say that except for the one that was arguably safest. “Thought you said even your stupid has its limits.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I ain’t as limited as I thought.”

Husk put one hand on his face and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to start yelling at him. That wouldn’t help anything, it would just get Angel worked up faster than was inevitable and escalate things into a fight sooner than he’d like. It would also make Angel stop listening faster. “I know that you know you shouldn’t be doing this. So why are you?”

“Why does it matter?”

Husk didn’t have any clue how to answer that. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “…because it… Angel, it’s the fucking Radio Demon. I’m not really sure what else you want me to say about it.”

“Husk. Look.” Angel turned on his vanity bench and placed two hands on the edge of the seat, gesturing with his other two. He looked pissed in a far more low-key way than usual, which could have been a bad thing. “I get it. You hate Alastor. Everybody hates Alastor. I am very aware of this, and I ain’t interested in listenin’ to you go on about how much you hate Alastor.”

“No, Angel, you don’t get it,” Husk countered, trying to keep his voice level without sounding patronizing (a skill he thought Charlie needed worse than he did, frankly). “I know Alastor. I’ve know him for years. You asked Mimzy why people were so scared of him because you had no idea what his reputation was, and that was a few months ago.”

“So, what, you think he’s gonna kill me?” Angel asked sarcastically. “He and I’ve been over this, he said he ain’t gonna kill me and risk Charlie gettin’ on his ass over it.”

“And you… believed him.”

“We’ve been alone together a lot, Husk. He ain’t never hurt me.”

Husk raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the cuts and bruises he could still see on Angel’s skin; the spider healed quite quickly, even by the standard of sinners, but he didn’t heal that fast.

Angel’s hand moved up to his shoulder, covering a strange row of cuts. “…that’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I didn’t exactly tell him to stop.”

Husk narrowed his eyes, trying to work out what the fuck Angel was thinking, when he suddenly realized… he wasn’t meeting Husk’s eyes anymore, and he was blushing. The idea that Angel could possibly be suggesting what Husk now thought he was suggesting was just… not possible. “Angel—”

“Look, just stop, okay?!” Angel said, getting to his feet and gesturing erratically. “I know you’re tryin’ to… protect me or whatever, but I don’t need it!”

“Angel, he was a murderer when he was alive.”

“So what?! I killed people when I was alive,” Angel said, gesturing at himself. “And I’d bet money you did, too! I bet Vaggie’s the only one who was ever human who’s come through this hotel and didn’t kill someone for a reason besides self-defense! I don’t give a shit that he kills people, I don’t give a shit that he’s an overlord, I don’t even give a shit that he’s a fuckin’ cannibal! And I ain’t gonna start throwin’ stones from a glass fuckin’ house just because other people hate him!”

When he’d first come up to talk to Angel, Husk had assumed he would end up angry. But, in the moment, he just felt… tired. And when he didn’t rise to an argument, Angel deflated a little bit; he was clearly still angry, but with nothing to feed from, his rage energy was waning.

Finally, Husk closed his eyes. “…look, kid, I’m not here to tell you what to do.” When he looked at Angel again, his arms were crossed and he was looking away, like a petulant teenager. “I just… I know him. And I want you to understand what you’re getting into.”

“You already told me he toys with people and then throws ‘em out,” Angel said, turning away and taking a few steps further into his room. “You don’t gotta repeat it. I got it.”

“That isn’t all he does.” Husk weighed his words. “That’s what he does if he has no… investment in someone. But if he does? He’ll never let them go. Not for anything. Not even if keeping them around could destroy them. If he’s decided that you belong to him, he’ll keep it that way, no matter what it might do to you. I’ve seen it happen before. He isn’t going to care if it brings you pain, or worse, just that he gets what he wants.”

Angel didn’t look back at him, but his silence was heavy, and when he did finally speak, it was with a lot less conviction. “I don’t believe you.”

“I know you don’t. Not expecting you to. And I’m not gonna make this into some ‘I told you so’ bullshit if he proves me right. I just… I want you to remember it.”

“Fine. I heard you.”

Angel still wasn’t looking at him, but Husk wasn’t really sure what else he could say. The kid was clearly angry, but more than that, he was upset. There wasn’t anything Husk could do about that, not after he was the one to cause it in the first place. So he turned, gave Fat Nuggets (who had moved to the foot of Angel’s bed) a pat as he passed, and let himself out of Angel’s room. He closed the door behind him quietly, not wanting to risk drawing attention from anyone else in the hotel, because that might mean having to explain himself to Charlie.

I’m sorry, kid.

I’m sorry I didn’t notice this shit earlier. I’m sorry I left you to deal with it on your own.

I’m sorry you fell in love.

I really hope this doesn’t kill you.

•••

The same goddamn secretary was the one who opened the side door of VoxTek when Blitzø buzzed as instructed, and the way she looked at him kinda made him want to shoot her in the face. That wouldn’t have been politic, of course—which was usually Moxxie’s job anyway—so he just made sure to be as smug at her as possible all the way through the back hall and up the elevator until she practically ejected him onto the floor where Vox was, presumably, waiting for good news.

Blitzø didn’t know how good it was, but it was news, and the sooner he didn’t have to put up with this sinner overlord bullshit anymore, the better.

The room was much more casual than the board room where they had first met, something of a lounge with dark leather furniture and dark screens set into the walls and yet another full-wall aquarium with hellsharks and helleels and all other manner of dangerous sea creatures. It was weird, to Blitzø, this fascination that an overlord who appeared to be almost entirely electronic had with shit that lived in the water. Maybe Vox was just drawn to things that could destroy him.

Maybe I shouldn’t be speculating on the mental health of the homicidal TV screen-face man.

Vox was sitting on one of those black leather couches when Blitzø entered, both of his arms spread across the back. Besides the aquarium and the strip lighting along the floor molding, Vox’s face was the only source of light in the entire room, and it immediately set Blitzø on edge, like he was suddenly being hit with a spotlight.

He fucking hated that feeling.

“Blitzø,” Vox greeted, his voice smooth and inherently trustworthy in that way that explained why he did so well in Greed. “You said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yeah. I followed them tonight. I think I got what, precisely, you were looking for.” Blitzø pulled the camera out of his coat and went back, starting with the single series of photos Millie had taken before she’d freaked out and abandoned her post. He crossed the room and offered the camera out to Vox.

The overlord took it from him and reached up to the back of his own head, pulling some kind of cable from a place Blitzø couldn’t see and hooking it up to the camera. He couldn’t tell what the other demon was doing, but as Vox went through the sequences, Blitzø could see the overlord’s lip curl and oddly hypnotic rings flash on and off in his left eye. At one point, he even thought he could see digitized blood at the corner of his mouth, running from his teeth to the bottom of the screen.

Overlord bloodlust, Blitzø thought. I’ve heard they sometimes bleed from the mouth when they’re feeling particularly dangerous.

He held his tongue, wrapping his tail loosely around one leg to keep it from lashing the air in agitation behind him as he waited. Eventually, Vox unplugged himself from the camera and turned it off. “Yes. That is… precisely what I was looking for.”

“Right.” Blitzø could tell he wasn’t talking about anything that Blitzø himself was privy to, and frankly, he didn’t want to know. “…so…”

“Right. The contract.” Vox set the camera down next to him and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at Blitzø like he was… well. Like he was a mildly amusing circus attraction. Blitzø’s tail tightened around his leg. “There is only one more thing I need you to do for me.”

Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. “What— you said you only wanted us to stalk them and take photos.”

“I know what I said.” Vox looked completely unaffected, though his smile reappeared. “How about this. You finish this final task without being a little bitch, and I’ll double your pay. You finish it but whine about it, I’ll come up with something else for you and your team to do, indefinitely. You refuse, it’s a broken contract.”

Blitzø gritted his teeth, aware that Vox could see it. “Does saying fuck you while still doing it count as being a little bitch?”

“Under the circumstances, as a single isolated statement…” Vox shrugged one shoulder. “No.”

“Great. Fuck you. What do you want?”

Vox actually laughed before he stood up. “Fantastic!” he said in an extremely sarcastic, game show-like voice. He motioned for Blitzø to follow him, which he did with more than little reluctance, and began walking across the room. “As you may have already gathered, we have gathered that Alastor and Angel Dust are, beyond all logic, soulmates. Angel Dust was given a deadline to break that bond.”

Blitzø’s eyes widened. Breaking a soulmate bond?

…you can do that…?

Vox didn’t notice his reaction. “The deadline in question is in three days. At the end of those three days, if the bond is not broken, Angel Dust was informed that we will be taking matters into our own hands. We have also been given reason to believe that he is going to be… reluctant.”

Vox opened a door at the back of the lounge and led Blitzø into another, smaller room. It looked like some kind of weird, high-tech armory. Under other circumstances, Blitzø would have been stoked as fuck to be in here, but this… didn’t feel okay.

Vox stopped at a stainless steel table and opened a small silver case, inside which were nestled six hypodermic needles. He turned it for Blitzø’s examination. “Your final task will be to continue to follow them. At the end of those three days, you will find Angel Dust alone, you will use these on him, and you will bring him to us. Once you have done that, your contract will be completed. You will receive your payment and you will no longer be in the employ of VoxTek.”

Blitzø reached out and picked one of the needles out of its little indentation in the black foam, looking at it. The liquid inside was pale pink, reminiscent of the smoke that had been coming off of Valentino’s cigarettes, and there was a lot of it. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Do you care?”

Blitzø’s tail twitched, and he stilled it. “…do you want us to use all six?”

“Yes. Will that be a problem?”

This is fucked up.

“No. It’s not a problem. We’ll do it.”

How the fuck am I going to explain this?

•••

oh fuck you Vox

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Twenty One.

Here it is, guys! I was able to take a little time this morning and edit it for you, just one chapter left to go now after this one and our story will be at a close. Thank you so much for being so engaging as always, you're lovely people :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Words - 3,835

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“Yeah, we can head down, P. We just got into town. Yeah, okay, see you in ten.”  

Guero relayed the message to Gilly, who was doing the last driving stint, Lee dozing in the front, Emma just awoken from a nap at his side.  

“Alright,” he replied, readying to turn left at the intersection rather than right, looking in the rear view. “Emma, I gotta say it, that’s some next level sleep hissing, girl. You sound like an angry cobra!” 

She burst into embarrassed laughter, her cheeks pinking as she hid her face, giving Guero a shove with her elbow for finding the observation quite as funny as he did. “I know, it’s epic. My guy here is worse, though. Fucking brontosaurus!”  

Gilly’s laugh filled the car, Guero grinning, leaning to whisper in Emma’s ear. “Lucky for you, I got the dick to match, huh?” 

Her laughter continued, resting her hand on his leg. “I definitely prefer being kept awake by that than I do the snoring.”  

He winked, his arm tightening around her. He hoped the summoning to the clubhouse would be a quick affair, so he could go home and keep her awake in the way she preferred.  

“Oh, do we still have that pizza in the freezer? My stomach is rumbling, but since the takeout place is gonna close soon and we have to get to the clubhouse first, I wanna plan. Might take Axl up to Khalid if we don’t.”  

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, yeah I think it is.” It was a simple enough back and forth between them, but for Guero, it showed so much more. It revealed how much she was working on herself, and he was proud of her for that. Just a few weeks ago, she’d have probably protested that they grab a pizza first and not been interested in hearing an alternative to the plan that had been proposed, wanting her own way. Now, she viewed it through much more mature eyes.  

While they quietly chatted back and forth, Gilly kept one eye on the rear view, but not to intrude on their conversation. Since leaving the freeway, he’d noticed a car seeming to tail them from a distance, thinking nothing of it to begin with, but the further they headed through Santo Padre, it began to concern him.  

The location of the yard wasn’t close to any residential areas, so he hoped it would peel off before they reached the long street Romero Brothers was located upon, thus putting to bed his worry as simple paranoia. He relaxed when it continued straight after he’d swung left onto the street, glad to have it confirmed to be nothing nefarious. 

Once at the yard, he jumped out to heave the front gate open, making a mental note to go out and oil the hinges come the morning, since it seemed stiffer to move than usual. Just then, the sound of an engine roaring filled the space, a car with no headlights on, the same car he’d noticed tailing them screeching to a halt. He pulled his gun out, Guero exiting the car and doing the same, the SUV opening and six men spilling out. 

He recognised two instantly, from Lee showing him the mugshots of the guys he needed to be aware of while they were up in Tahoe.  

“Drop it, big fella,” Rocco spoke, holding his own gun aloft, turning to Guero. “You too, boy.”  

“Who the fuck you calling boy?” he spat, Rocco aiming his gun at him and pulling the trigger. The bullet missed him by a hair’s breadth. 

“Next time I won’t miss. Now, drop your guns.”  

They were outnumbered two to five, the girls not armed, Guero’s chest pulling tight, wanting to reach for Emma and pull her close, but knowing if he moved suddenly, they’d be shot. His eyes found Vincent’s, the no good, lying, untrustworthy underboss, his rage burning. His nostrils flared as he stared right through his cold, blue eyes 

“Fucking liar,” he spat, putting his gun down, loathed to do so, his eyes flitting between him and Rocco. How he hadn’t shot him in the head on sight was beyond him.  

Vincent’s face remained unmoving. “Did what I had to do, Guero.” He jerked his head in the direction of the open gate. “Hands on your fucking head and lead the way to your president.” 

Guero didn’t move. “I ain’t moving without my girl.” 

Rocco chuckled, approaching the car. “Who’s girl? Because it sounds like you think my girl is yours, and motherfucker, that ain’t the case. You rented her a while. I own.” Reaching in, his hand grasped the arm of a terrified Emma, another man reaching for Lee, elbowing her in the face when she attempted to fight him off. He only saw that in his peripheral vision though, his eyes not leaving Emma, who looked to him immediately as Rocco wrapped an arm around her chest, holding his gun to her neck.  

He kissed the side of her head, Emma wincing, her body stiffening as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide as her worst nightmare unfolded. “Time to come home to daddy. I’ve missed you. Don’t think I ain’t gonna punish the fuck outta you for this, though.” She felt sick and scared to the pit of her stomach, the bone chilling fear that never truly left her coming true, back in Rocco’s clutches. Here it was, the moment she’d be parted from the love of her life, her only love, forever. Rocco wouldn’t let them live after this.  

She wasn’t one hundred percent she would either, but she knew that she’d rather die in the dirt there with Guero and her friends, her little outlaw family, than be taken back to Staten Island for the rest of her life. The men were nudged forward by Mario and Paul, Salvatore pushing Lee to walk forward, her eyes finding Emma’s, just as Guero’s did before he was shoved, guns pointing at them as they began to walk through the gate.  

Those men, she’d thought they were all behind her, never again would she have to suffer seeing them, reliving the sickening ordeal of having them force their way between her legs, as the three all had. She should have known it would never have been that easy, her tears beginning to fall as another car screeching to a halt behind them. Emma prayed that somehow, someone was coming to their rescue, but her eyes picked out another five men as they exited, all of whom she recognised.  

It rocked her nerves to utter rubble. 

With every step along the path that led through the piles of rusting metal all around, she felt her heart crashing against her chest with fear, the same sick feeling of anguish she’d carried for nineteen years flooding her veins like poison. She should have always known she’d never escape him. Looking at the back of Guero’s head, feeling her throat tighten, hopelessness ate directly at her heart, knowing she was likely about to be forced to watch him die, a sob welling her throat.  

“S’okay, blue eyes. Don’t you cry, this ain’t nothing. It’ll be okay.” He didn’t even need to turn around to know the little sound of distress had come from her, Mario jamming the gun into his lower back.  

“Shut up, you wetback fuck.”  

Guero snorted. “Inaccurate slur, asshole. I was born in America.”  

Mario then punched him in the back of the head. “You wanna get shot, stronzo? Shut the fuck up!”  

By her side, Rocco began to chuckle, his grip tightening around her arm, towing her along. “Not got much in the way of brains, that piece of outlaw garbage you’ve hitched yourself to. Ain’t gonna matter soon, though. Not when I paint the ground with what fucking little he has.” 

“He’s a thousand percent the better man than you,” she spoke coldly, some of her newfound bravery shining through the dark clouds of her fear. 

“Not for much longer.” His chilly delivery was then added upon, Rocco beginning to laugh. “Hey, Guero. Did she ever tell you how much she liked it when I fucked her? I bet she said otherwise, but trust me, little princess here loved falling to her knees for me, even more what she got outta it. Best damned five grand I ever used to spend, buying her handbags and jewellery for being a good little whore. She make you do that for her, too? Or is she cheap now she ain’t around guys like me?” 

Guero felt his insides twisting with white-hot rage, wanting nothing but to turn, wrestle a gun from someone, and empty it into his head. If he even flinched, he’d be shot where he stood, and he couldn’t risk that somehow, there had to be a way out of this mess.  

As for Emma, his entertainment as delivering those callous lies intended to humiliate her and make Guero seethe made her stomach freeze. Ice chilled her guts like a Siberian winter as they came to the second gate, Lee being shoved forward to open it. God, how she prayed the men who had them would be outnumbered, being a Saturday night. The quietness was telling, though; to their disadvantage. Swinging the gate open, she looked towards the clubhouse, the windows not revealing the presence of more than a few of the club members within. Fuck.  

“Ezekiel Reyes!” Rocco boomed as they all lined up outside the clubhouse, his eyes scanning the windows. “Get the fuck out here right now, you double dealing fuck!”  

The door opened, revealing EZ, Bishop, Hank, Bottles, Nestor, Angel and Downer all stepping out, pointing their guns. “Let the girls go,” EZ began, pointing his gun right at Lombari, “they ain’t got anything to do with this.” 

Rocco chuckled, pressing his gun against Emma’s head. “Yeah? Ain’t like that from where I’m looking. This one here? She’s my property, and I object to having my property taken from me. You can have the tattooed hag back eventually, but my little blonde princess stays right here, where she belongs. Now, unless you want me to put a bullet in said blonde hag as well as the bald, tattooed fuck and the piece of shit whose been bangin’ on my girl, youse will lower your weapons. Now.”  

“Fuck you, Lombardi.” 

“Hey, Paul!” Rocco shouted, the guy holding a gun to Gilly’s head nodding. 

“EZ drop them!” Emma screamed, her eyes rounding. “Don’t try him, he’ll do it. You’re too outnumbered!” And they were, at a two to one ratio with the second car of men arriving, all standing behind them, guns aimed at the heads of the MC. 

He looked at a pained impasse, finally lowering his weapon and nodding to the others to do the same, the guys from the second car all walking around to cover them, making them kneel as they pressed their guns to the back of their heads.  

“Compliance,” Rocco began, nodding approvingly, his eyes darting over the line of kneeling men one by one. “I think we need a little more of it, gentlemen. Now, I’m a fair man, and in light of this little plot to go behind my back, I have a fair proposal. You continue to move everything I want you to, but for free for the next two years. Oh, and that one over there doesn’t breathe no longer.” He pointed straight at Guero. “Non-negotiable, gentleman. You either do or you die.”  

EZ lifted his chin, his brow furrowed, the internal wrestling with the proposition obviously paining him. There was no way out of it, and Emma saw that as she looked to Guero, stood one person away from her, Vincent holding a gun to the back of his head. It couldn’t end like this, but what the hell would save her, save them this time? They were condemned to live under the weight of Lombardi once more.  

Taking a deep breath, Ezekiel nodded softly, his eyes burning with bitter anger at the defeat. “I accept.” 

Her scream flew from her lips. “No, no! Don’t kill him! Please! I’ll come back with you, I’ll do anything you want me to, just let him live!” 

Rocco grinned, looking to his left, ignoring Emma’s pleas completely. “Vincent, kill the asshole who dared put his hands on her.”  

He stepped forward, sniffing as he nodded, his lips pursing. “With pleasure, boss.” Pointing his gun at Guero, Emma refused to watch, feeling as if razor wire was wrapping around her insides. This was it; her world was about to come crashing down. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach so violently, she couldn’t contain the wail of grief, feeling sick, scrunching her eyes tightly shut. When the gun fired, however, the only thing that fell was Rocco, Vincent turning at the last moment to put a bullet straight between his eyes.  

As soon as his body hit the ground, every single man stepped back, tucking their guns away, all looking to Vincent, who nodded curtly. He turned to Emma, his face softening. “I’m sorry to have put you through that, kid. Had to be done, though. It had to look real, so I couldn’t forewarn any of you about what was gonna go down, except for Ezekiel. He knew.” 

Looking down at the lifeless body of her captor, a myriad of emotions charged through her, her nerves jangling, her heart still pumping rapidly. He was gone. One single bullet had wiped him out, him and his nefarious, sickening intentions towards her, and every other child who had the misfortune to ever be sold under his brutal regime of trafficking.  

It was over, but god, she had no clue where to begin in processing that. 

She stood there trembling, silent and stunned, jumping when she felt two hands press to her shoulders, turning to sink into Guero’s embrace, her legs giving way.  

“Woah, I gotcha, come on.” He lifted her into his arms, turning to Vincent.  

“I’ll explain the rest inside.” His nod towards the clubhouse was the indicator that the men now under his control should follow, the MC heading in first, Bishop reaching for Lee and wrapping her in a hug, kissing her cheek repeatedly.  

“Love you, preciosa.”  

She smiled, letting out a long breath, her coolness only mildly dented, but the relief clear as she embraced her husband. “Love you, too, darlin’.” 

Once inside, most of the Italian American fraction of the men sectioned to one side, the club, plus Vincent and Salvatore congregating at two tables a few guys pulled together, a couple of the girls from behind the bar coming over with beers, asking the latter men their preference.  

“Vodka rocks twice, hon,” Vincent spoke, his eyes scanning his surroundings. It was much shabbier than the places he frequented, but to be expected. They were leather clad, Harley riding outlaws; they had no need or want for glitz. “Now, an explanation for youse who didn’t know. I had every intention of following through with what was brought to me by Emma and Guero, until the fatal flaw in that plan presented itself; the MC had offered to take care of Rocco, yet to facilitate that, it’d mean bringing him back over to the west coast, a place he don’t like to be in often. 

“Speaking with my guys, we needed a neat plan, and fast. They didn’t like the idea of the hit being handled externally, but to show good faith, I was prepared to do it on your turf, to show my sincerity. Also, I needed this one here to see it with her own eyes. Two decades of abuse and captivity, she deserved that much, to see the man who fuckin’ stole her goddamned life get what he deserved. I guess I had to make it right with god too, for being complicit for so long, so that was what I chose.” 

He paused to point at Emma, everyone at the table nodding in agreement of his statement. “Salvatore came up with the perfect plan to tie it all together. The guys, they ah, they wanted to handle it internally as soon as we arrived back in New York, but I said to ‘em, we gotta be smarter. You can’t just have a major player like Rocco fuckin’ vanish. Too much heat, gentleman, so we gotta go different. And we have. As far as anybody knows, all of us are all on a camping trip at the foot of Tahoe Mountain right now, which officially speaking, will be the last place any of us saw Rocco Lombardi alive.  

“When we head back, we’ll take to the wilderness where we set up camp, then report him missing come the morning. Hotel staff will confirm this is where we were, too. As will the receipts for the purchase of camping gear, and the ranger who saw us arrive, but not leave. We got his disappearance covered, and we’ll take a few limbs and lumps of flesh back with us, scatter them around the common places where bears are spotted. Nature will do the rest, and what’s left of him will be found, bone fragments, torn clothes and blood. That’s all that needs to be done. We now move forward away from this whole mess, business as usual, fellas.”  

It was all so simple, so flawlessly executed from the perspective of Vincent and his new underboss. Emma began to worry about the tiny details, though, until she realised that honestly, they were none of her concern. Any little detail she might’ve considered an issue had likely already been covered by Vincent and his guys, yet as she sat there on Guero’s lap, she still trembled, not feeling right.  

“You wanna go home?” Of course, he picked up on it. She nodded. “Guys, we’re heading off. All this, well... look at her.”  

They all nodded, Emma standing, Vincent too, opening his arms. She moved to embrace him carefully, the new boss patting her back. “I’ll tell your ma; she had a head’s up that it was going down. Needless to say, it was a relief that was long in the coming. She’s free too, now. Want me to pass on your number, so she can call you?”  

She nodded meekly, reciting her cell as Vincent punched it into his phone. “I’ll call her later, once we’re on the road again. You take care now, kid.”  

He pressed a hand to her shoulder, kissing her cheek, Emma still not really responsive to anything, her mind so muddled with emotion.  

“Guero, here,” Lee called from across the table, throwing him her keys. “Take mine and Gilly’s stuff out the back, I’ll get home with Bish. We’ll come pick it up in the morning.”  

He thanked her for the loan of her car, grasping Emma’s hand and getting her out of there. Lombardi’s body had been moved, likely by the prospects, his blood still staining the orange, dusty ground at the foot of the clubhouse steps. After walking back to the main gate and taking the bags out, Guero running them back to the clubhouse, they left, Emma silent the entire ride home, Guero’s hand not moving from where it rested on her leg.  

“He was lying, when he said I enjoyed it,” she mumbled quietly, Guero turning onto their street.  

He tutted softly, his eyes flitting to her. “Baby, you don’t have to tell me that. I know, because ain’t nobody who knows the real you like I do. I know. I fucking love you so much.” 

She nodded, a smile finally upturning her downcast mouth. “I know. I love you, too.”  

They pulled onto the drive, Emma exiting the car to see the curtains moving at Tyrone’s window, the big head sticking through them not that of the man himself, but of a face she’d missed over the last few days.  

“My little sir!” she cooed, Axl hopping from the window and rushing to her, tail wagging in frenzy, greeting her with many licks to her hands as he weaved her legs.  

“Hey boo!” Tyrone appeared, passing Guero the bag containing Axl’s things, nodding at the dog. “He been good as fuckin’ gold for his uncle T! Took the dude so many places, to the bar, dog park, groomers, strip mall, lil’ drag race event last night. He been spoiled to fuck!” 

“Thanks, Tyrone,” she spoke, Guero offering the same. 

“Anytime, y’all!” 

With that, they went into the house, leaving their bags at the door, Emma going through to the bedroom and flopping down. The emotions began to swirl, Guero finding her in floods of tears after he’d got Axl settled, expecting that she might break down in the wake of it all.  

“Come here, my baby.” Lying down beside her, he wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry it out against his chest.  

“I don’t even know why I’m crying!” she sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. “I just... I can’t... and it’s...” 

He kissed her head, hand stroking her back. “You don’t have to put it into words, but if I was to guess, I’d say these are tears of relief, and maybe the shit he put you through being stirred back up again, after seeing him tonight. Cuz’ of that, I know I can tell you it’s over now, but in your head, it might take a while for that to sink in.” 

His perception was remarkable, Emma nodding, continuing to cry. Finally, she was a hundred percent free, but for that moment, she felt far from it. Composing herself, she dried her eyes after allowing herself the emotional release of tears, Guero heading for a shower, Axl coming in to wag his tail at her and woof softly.  

“You need to go pee, little sir?” Immediately, the dog bolted in the direction of the kitchen, Emma sliding off the bed to go and follow him. Letting him out into the backyard, she stepped out too, the cooler night air blowing gently against her cheeks as she moved to the centre of the lawn and looked up at the stars.  

Often through her time held captive by Rocco, she’d taken comfort at looking up at the night sky and knowing that while they were far apart, at least she was under the same stars as her family. She still was, too, at least what was left of them.  

They still shared that same twinkle. 

Taking a deep breath, she held it in, slowly releasing it through her nose. She could finally go and find them again, connect the beginning and the present of her life now that the catalyst to separating them was no longer a factor in holding her back.  

Finally, she could be who she was without fear. Emma Louise Taylor. She didn’t have to hide any longer.  

Her smile grew exponentially for realising that.