#no wonder their relationship is strained for part of season one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mirohlayo · 5 months

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HATE YOU LOVINGLY | LN4 (pt2)

( you hate him just as he hates you. but maybe it's just his way to show he fell hard for you. )

warning : jealousy, slight angst, fluff

note : i spent my whole evening writing this but it's worth it. also wrote once again more than 5k words i surprised myself because even in french i don't write that much

word count : 5.1k

↳ part 1

!! english is not my first language !!

this season's debut is tough for you. being a new f1 presenter is not as amazing as it looks. of course it's a wonderful job, you couldn't have dreamed better because it's the job you so wanted. you're very passionate about it, but it requires a lot of work and to be honest you're feeling a bit tired since some weeks now.

but the thing that disturbs you and makes you really tense is when you interview lando. actually just lando. of course you still don't like him, but you're sure you don't hate him anymore. you thought you would never say this but you definitely started to appreciate him. because of the post race interviews.

you mostly interview the mclaren drivers. it means that you can share some time with your best friend oscar but it also means you have to face lando. and when it happens it's the most stressful and strained moment. because you can't fully concentrate yourself on the questions.

it's the way he looks at you with this intense gaze, which makes you burn inside of your body. his distracting look always finish to fall on your lips at one point of the interview. it makes you go crazy. he would stare a bit at them before looking you in the eyes like nothing happened.

but to revenge on him you would ask him the most tough questions. about the race, about qualifying. you somehow always manage to prick his weaknesses by asking questions whose answers are almost impossible to find. and he always scoff, he lets a laugh out because he perfectly understands what you always try to do.

and fans notice it. they notice the way you two interact on camera. they'd say both of you look like are going to murder each other with the difficult questions from you and the sassy comments and answers from lando. but if they really analyze the situations, they can caught and feel a link between you. a special link which connects you. they notice lando's wandering eyes on your lips and the way you look at him. and laugh at his jokes.

it seems like you try so hard to show everyone you hate each other but it ends up watching two fools being secretly in love.

but you're still sure lando hates you and he's thinking the same for you.

now the australian grand prix will take place this sunday, and today it is thursday. which means conferences and media duties. the mclaren media team has planned a new sort of video. they want to try different types of content for both the drivers this year. and they organized a video with lando and you as guests. the idea of the video is to make lando choose an outfit for you and you'll try it. it can be a good way to show mclaren's fans your relationship and also lando's style and taste.

"y/n will arrive in a few minutes" stephanie, who oversees media and PR functions for mclaren, informs lando that you'll be here soon. the curly haired just nods and fixes his hoodie's sleeve. his expression is impassive, nobody can't tell what emotion he's feeling right now. however, some of the members are aware of the complex relationship between you and lando so they profoundly hope the video will not be a mess.

you guys just need to cooperate and fake it, fake your emotions only for the video. because it is your jobs.

lando laughs with the makeup artist who is adjusting his makeup. he lifts up his eyes and then he sees you walk in the room. you smile and greet the staff, waving your hand to some acquaintances. and in this moment he daydreams. he stops himself on you. your smile, the way you act with people around you with the kindest words and purest actions. he's mesmerized by you. and he hates it.

you make everything so difficult for him. why do he constantly have this problem ? this need to keep an eye on you, to lay eyes on you at least once a day. to be sure you're present and if you're not then he's always questioning himself, he thinks about you. why he's so attracted by you ? he thinks that he always hated you, that he was sure that this curiosity he had for you at the beginning had turned into hatred. but ultimately maybe he was lying to himself.

he only wanted to protect himself from his lack of self-confidence from trying to approach you without any result, and he decided to bury his true feelings under a shell. he created this false illusion of hatred so as not to hurt his ego, not to remind him that he is completely in love with you. because deep down he always saw you as an inaccessible woman and he always wondered how a guy like him could say a word to a woman like you.

he was too insecure and you seemed to avoid and ignore him, so it hurt him because he wanted to exist in your eyes. and that's why he started to hate you. but this feeling of hatred is simply wrong. it's an excuse to hide his feelings towards you. but he realizes that. he doesn't deny it anymore, he knows how fucking bad he's in love with you.

"lando ? you're still with us ?" your voice rings in lando's ears and he comes back to reality. you're standing next to him, and the staff is ready to start the video. "yeah sorry. i'm ready" he says and gives you a decided look. stephanie checks everything. she adjusts the little details to make everything look perfect. but she frowns when her eyes fall on you. "can you please try to be more relaxed and act like you're actually like each other ?"

she walks quickly over you and put her hands on your shoulders "you need to be closer to him, the framing looks horrible on the camera" she says while moving your position. your feet walk by themselves and you're so close to lando now, your shoulders almost touch together. you have never been so close to him. you can even smell his cologne.

he looks a bit uncomfortable now, he shifts his position and clear his throat. he can also smell your perfume too and he's completely hypnotized by it. and by the closeness of your body. stephanie take a look on the camera and she thumbs up. "perfect !! now we can start the recording. please no noise!" she sits on her chair and gives you the signal.

you inhale deeply. it's going to be funny right ?

"hello everyone !! today we are here with the driver lando norris and we're going to play a little game together" you smile to the camera and then turn around to talk to the driver next to you. he does the same and when your looks meet, his heart starts to beat faster. you continue to speak and explain the game but he doesn't listen, he's stuck on your hand on his shoulder. you have never touch him before, because if you dare brush him you know he'll be so pissed off. and you either don't want to graze his skin.

but it's all for the work, so you have to do it and to obviously fake it.

lando doesn't want to show you and people that he's surprised by the touch and that he actually likes it. so to shield himself he keeps a straight face and glare at your hand before taking a step back. you would be lying if you said he hurts you with this sudden move. but what, you also need to fake your hatred towards him. so you react like nothing happened despite the way your heart pangs.

"so are you ready to choose me an outfit ?" you ask to the driver and he doesn't ever bother to look you in the eyes. "yes, i think i'll do a great job". you try to hold back a roll eyes and you smile while nodding. but stephanie claps and sighs "no it's so bad. i know you two can't barely stand each other but you guys need to grow up and understand that you need to work together. it looks like you're going to fight. please be serious and mature and make an effort to show that you are at least close"

you sigh and nod to agree with her because you know she's right. you can't act like this in front of the camera and millions of people. "we're sorry. we're going to fix this problem and do our best" "who "we"?" lando says and shoot a black look to you. you bite your cheek from the inside and roll your eyes. now you're getting annoyed. "shut your mouth and stop being stupid. do your job." you murmur to him with frowning brows.

"don't talk to me like that. we're not friends and we'll never be" he adds. he says that to look pissed off, but the truth is that he hopes you'll never be friends. because instead he hopes you'll be his girlfriend. "i ask no more" you scoff and you sound genuinely honest and sincere. which twist his heart and feelings. wouldn’t he have said that ? now he starts regretting what he have said. do you really want him to remain your enemy?

he can't argue back because the recording is taking up again. the recording is going pleasantly well and it surprises the staff as much as you two. lando seems to choose with precision and care your outfit. he does his best to match the clothes and he picks up the best items. and it feels like he's doing it not on purpose, but sincerely. it feels like he truly wants to see you well dressed and it kinda disturbs you.

you go change yourself into the outfit. and it's really beautiful. the clothes match perfectly and you can't lie, he did a good job. you found yourself admiring your reflection in the mirror. you're wearing an outfit chosen by your enemy - no wait by the man you secretly love, and you like it a bit too much.

it's time for the outfit reveals. the camera still records and you're hidden behind a curtain. "okay lando are you ready to see the final result ?" you ask a bit excited about it. "yes show me" he only replies. you pull the curtain and lando's eyes immediately land on you. ohh.

wow. he stopped to breathe. he stopped to talk. is it legal to be this pretty? no because you're taking his breath away and it's not good at all. the outfit fits you perfectly, and he's even more proud because he was the one to choose it. but seriously, he sincerely thinks you look gorgeous that he doesn't even realize you were talking to him. "so how do i look ?" you ask with a smile.

he's flustered. he starts to blush so hard and he rapidly looks away. he tries to say something but he stutters so much over his words. you're making him loose all his senses. he doesn't even know how to talk anymore. "y-you look... i mean it looks good". he pulls himself together and names the outfit rather than you because he doesn't want to admit that you are incredibly beautiful.

"yes i agree with you, it definitely looks good" you reply and smile to him. but not a fake smile like you'd usually do. no, it's a sincere smile, the one smile he loves seeing. he blushes even more and he clear his throat. some staff members notice how lando looks destabilized by you and they laugh. he is unmasked. but you see he's starting to get embarrassed and you decide to end the video now.

"you were perfect, thanks for your hard work" stephanie says and the others members thanks you too. the record stops and you rush to go get changed. you don't even glance at lando, you just look like you can't wait to leave the room and the driver. and the curly haired feels a little disappointed. for the first time he really wanted to talk to you and say a few words to you.

he hesitates to follow you. it would be weird if he suddenly come and talk to you when you can't even look at each other properly.

but he doesn't care. he wants to be confident. he rushes to follow you and before you could walk away from him he grabs your wrist. your second touch. it gives him shivers. and you too because he notices how your skin reacted to the sudden touch. wait, do you feel the same as him ?

"what ?" your frown and glare at him. he removes his hand from your wrist and looks away. he wants to speak but his words are running away. why he's like that around you ? "huh... i just wanted to say that you are actually... really pretty in this outfit" he says and blushes so so hard. you stop yourself. are you dreaming ? is this even real ?

is it really lando ? it's not a false lando norris right ? you blink, and he can clearly tell you're surprised. like very surprised. which is stressful because he starts to regret what he have said. he is sure that you will take his compliment badly and that he will be able to go fuck himself. but no. it's not your reaction. "oh... thank you lando. i guess ?" you stutter a bit, you don't even know how to react at this point.

your reaction make him laugh softly and for the first time since you met, a positive interaction took place between you. it's like a dream, it can't be real. you thought you couldn't have a good talk with him. you genuinely thought you and him couldn't make it together. but it seems for once that you are able to do it.

"let me change myself now please" you say because you're too flustered to stay with him right now. it's kinda awkward though. "oh yes sorry" he only replies and walk away without anything else.

now this one was truly surprising. first you managed to work perfectly well together and then he complimented you ? something is off. he couldn't have change in a day no ? it's just so strange. but yet you don't complain. you're happy about your interactions today. because it finally seems that you both can now try to be more friends and to know how each other.

two months passed since that day. and surprisingly everything was getting better with lando. now you great each other every day, the post race interviews are definitely entertaining and you both enjoy them now. he's making jokes sometimes when he's around you and he's always excited to record new content with you. your relationship really improved these past months.

and lando is still so fucking in love with you. he fell even harder for you since you started to interact more with him. now he only has eyes for you, you're the only girl he thinks about, the only girl he wants so bad. and you feel the same too. your love for lando doubled and the only thing you wish for is to be with him. to be his girlfriend. just as he wants to be your boyfriend.

today you need to attend a gala. most of the drivers will be there and lot of your colleagues and others presenters will be there too. it's an important event so you need to dress well and of course you must attend it. you finish your hairstyle and spray perfume on your neck. you're ready.

you make it to the place and you're welcomed by a huge crowd of people and fans. a lot of them try to reach out the drivers. every drivers and presenters are on the huge red carpet. there are many cameras and journalists too. it is very vibrant, very lively. flash come from everywhere and you try to find faces you know. and then you find your best friend.

you rush to oscar. he spots you too and he walks towards you. "y/n ! you took a long time to come" he says and hugs you. you wrap your arms around him too and pull back after. "sorry, there was traffic" you reply. he looks good. he wears a suit with a tie and it looks perfect on him. because he's not the kind of man to pull out costume. so seeing the boy you grew up with in this outfit is shocking. it makes you wonder if his teammate is wearing the same as him ?

lando finishes his interview. he gives a small smile to the journalist and joins carlos and charles over there. he's scanning the crowd. he's looking around. he recognizes some f1 presenters and he wonders if you are here too. he wants to see you. he wants to talk to you. but the only person he sees is his old teammate daniel walking to the group of drivers.

"hello guys. how you all feeling ?" he asks and shows his best smile. "good. though i'm tired of these infinite interviews" charles jokes but the boys all know there's some kind of honesty about it. "long time not see" daniel says as he pats lando's shoulder. "c'mon man you played games with me this morning" he rolls his eyes but grin. daniel laughs and wink at him.

a gap settles between the two but it is filled by the voices of the ferrari drivers. and then daniel speak again. "she's pretty" he only says. lando frowns and turns his head to look at his friend. "what ?" "the woman there. she's really pretty. i think she's a presenter. i often see her the paddock" daniel says and a silly smile take place on his face. lando follows daniel's gaze and his look falls on the one only girl he hoped his friend wasn't talking about.

you.

you're laughing so hard with his teammate that you almost trip and you have to hang on to oscar to avoid falling. and yes, indeed you are beautiful tonight. not that you aren't every day because he could literally spend the whole day admiring you but this long black dress which perfectly highlights your body has a lot of effect on him. but he knows he's not the only one you have an effect on. his jaw clench. no, his friend can't be interested in you. he does not have the right. lando was here first, he's the one for you not daniel. he needs to do something. he needs to keep daniel away from you.

"hah, there's much better mate... like this one girl over here, she's prettier by far." lando says in a nonchalant tone, and he points to a brunette who is also one of your colleagues. lie. it's a lie but he needs to do it. "really ? i prefer my girl. but i didn't know you had your eye on this brunette. good to know boy" daniel gives a wink to lando.

my girl ? did he really called you my girl ? jealousy fills lando now. daniel can't allow himself to call you like that. he does not have the right. only lando can call you my girl. you're his girl. well not really actually but still in his eyes you're his precious and favorite girl. he needs to try something else. "no that's not what i meant" "don't worry lando i'll try to get her number for you" he adds with an implicit smile.

the situation gets worse. it's not good at all. "no but i know her and i already know you won't like her. her name is y/n. you know she's horrible and she is like super super annoying. plus she has a terrible sense of humor. doesn't match with you." he ramble about you like you are the most mean person on earth. daniel looks confused but his eyes suddenly sparks. "oh it's the one girl you hate right ?" he asks.

lando hates his behavior now but he needs to save his opportunity. "yes that's her. i wish she could stop existing" he jokes but he's genuinely shocked by his own words. he wants to slap himself. how he hates himself for talking about you like that. he doesn't deserve you at all. "you know what i'm gonna talk to her"

and without realizing it, he sees daniel walking to you. lando's heart skipped a beat. no no no. it can't happen. you're his girl. you don't need daniel. jealousy is running in his blood and he swears he have never been this jealous over someone. he doesn't want to see you talk to an other man than him. he doesn't want to see you laugh with his old teammate because he perfectly knows you love his humor. no you can't give your attention to daniel. it is lando first.

"hello y/n !" daniel greets you with his white teeth smile. you stop talking with oscar and mirror his smile. lando rushes over and joins you. now there are three boys surrounding you. "hello daniel. hi lando !" you say and your smile widen when you look at the mclaren driver. his heart melt from your reaction, he notices how your eyes sparks when you look at him. "you look beautiful" daniel says then he adds "but lando thinks this woman over here his prettier than you. i think he might have a crush on her. but don't worry i'm here for you y/n".

lando sees red now. why daniel said that ? it's fucking bullshit, you're the absolutely only woman he has eyes for. he almost yells at his friend but he pulls himself together. he just hopes you won't listen to his bullshit. he's really pissed of now. you feel strange. like your heart painfully pangs. because you think now that lando already has an other girl in his mind. and it hurts. you thought you were somehow different for him. but you guess not. you try to change the topic because you're getting upset and sad. "wait how do you know my name ?" you frown confused and daniel laughs softly. "lando told me about you" he replies.

your gaze shift on lando. he talked about you to daniel ? it must have been positive then. you show your best smile to him and you can't help but giggle a little. but lando looks impassive, he doesn't even smile to you back. no, he's glaring at you. just like before. just like two months ago when he was hating on you. you don't understand. "oh and what did he say about me ?" you ask curiously.

daniel pats his friend's shoulder with a desolate look. of course it is part of the joke. "well he told me you're the most horrible and annoying person to ever exist. oh he actually said he wish you could stop existing but he was joking about that." daniel laughs but you are not. what ? is that true ? "excuse me... he really said that ? did he actually mean it ?" you ask to be sure.

lando knows he's in shit. he fucked up. he wants to say something but daniel cuts him off. "i think so because he literally said he hates you. but i think you already know that don't you ?"

daniel wasn't doing it on purpose at all. he knows that you both hate each other, which is why he allows himself to joke about your relationship. but he doesn't know that you've gotten a lot closer lately. lando didn't tell him about his feelings for you because he didn't want to show that he loves you. he kept pretending to hate you when he was with daniel and now this is what shit he's in.

"i... sorry i thought we got along well? that our relationship was better..." you look at the driver you love. he shows no expression.

so is he really like that? a big asshole to the end. you felt that he had changed, that he was starting to like you but in the end he is still the same idiot as before. he played with your feelings. and your whole being hurts. your heart pang so hard. "well if you believed it then maybe i should become an actor then" he scoffs and look at you up and down.

what is he doing? his behavior is truly shit and pathetic. he is losing the girl of his dreams because of himself. he is destroying the only person important to him. the only woman he wants to chase. he's so fucking bad he can't even take off this hateful role in front of daniel because he doesn't want to show that he fell in love with the girl he was supposed to hate. he's such a terrible asshole.

oscar doesn't understand either. because unlike daniel he knows lando's feelings towards you. he knows that his teammate is madly in love with you. so why this behavior? why is he doing all this? why is he hurting his best friend ? he looks at lando with a confused and angry gaze. "i'm sorry i need to get some water" you're about to cry in pain. you disappear quickly because you don't want to stay another second next to him. you have never felt like this before. you feel shit for believing in him. now he broke you in pieces.

daniel doesn't understand either what is happening. but some journalists are calling him for an interview and he excuses himself, saying he'll be back soon. now there's lando and oscar who remain together. "fuck" the curly haired curses. "fuck fuck fuck. shit. fucking shit. i fucked up everything" he curses more. oscar sigh and runs a hand in his hair. "indeed you did yes". his teammate looks like he's about to burst into tears. he knows he really did you wrong and shitty.

"see what you have lost" oscar says and shrugs. but him too is pissed off, he's mad at lando because this guy literally hurts in the most painful way his best friend. "why did you do that ? why did you mess up everything? i thought you really loved her!!” "because i do !! i do love her, she's my everything. she's the only person i care about. she's the only one i think about and she's making me loose my mind and i don't see my life without her oscar. for fuck sake i'm so in love with her and i know i don't deserve her"

lando goes around in circles. he's getting tired of it. "you really disappointed me you know. but it makes me feel sorry to see you in this state, so even if i don't like it, go chase after her" oscar pushes his teammate in your direction. he doesn't want to see lando desperate like this. he knows you love him and that lando loves you too. he can't stand seeing you two suffer when you're literally fighting for each other.

lando finds you in a hidden spot. you let a sob out of your mouth and it breaks his heart. his whole being even. he sees tears falling down on your cheeks and he curses at himself for being the reason of them. he carefully approaches you but you notice him. you're about to walk away but he grabs your wrist before you could run. "y/n"

"no. go away. i don't want to be near you" you bluntly pull back your hand from his grab. "no please y/n listen to me" he tries once again. you scoff and roll your eyes. he thinks it works like that ? "what ? i don't want to listen to you." you struggle to not yell at him. "i didn't intend to say theses things you have to trust me"

he digs himself in deeper. "oh what, now i need to trust you like i used to trust you when i thought you liked me ? you're shit lando" you start to walk away but he stops you once again. "leave me. i don't want to hear your excuses" you try to release his hand from your arm but he doesn't let you go. "no. listen to me. i don't even know why i acted like that and you don't realize how much i hate myself right now. this is not what i wanted to do. this is not what i want"

new tears fall on your face but you don't care at this point. you don't even have the energy to argue back. you can't stop crying. "so what do you want then ?"

"you" he answers without hesitation.

oh. you didn't expect this answer. his other hand grab gently your arm and he takes advantage of your lack of reaction to pull you into his arms. "now really listen" he starts and wipe a tear from your cheek. "i know i'm a piece of shit that don't deserve you. i don't even deserve to talk to you. i'm really a dick because i hurt you so bad and trust me it truly breaks my heart because i'm the man who broke your heart when i was supposed to take care of it"

"i never hated you. never. i was always attracted to you and i know i fell in love with you since the first time i laid eyes on you. every single day i begged to have a chance to talk to you. but i wasn't confident enough and i preferred to act like i hated you when all i wanted was to beg you to give me just a chance" he feels your body relaxes and he pulls you even closer. you can fell his breath on your neck.

"you're not even a little annoying. you are the complete opposite of horrible, you are the kindest and most caring person i know. i want to slap myself for saying i wish you didn't exist. because it's a fucking lie. i can't live without your existence. i can't imagine my future without you. you're taking my breath away and you never leave my mind and thoughts. i know you're the love of my life and i waited for you this long. and i'll never let you go now that i found you." he finishes in a sob and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"lando..." you hum. "shhh don't talk. it'll be alright baby" he murmurs against your ear. he strokes your hair with one hand and your back with the other. he places a soft kiss on your head. "i fell very hard for you baby. i'm so in love with you. i'll never stop loving you i promise" he says and you just nod. "i love you so much too lan" you simply answer.

"and that one brunette girl daniel talked about ?" you ask with watery eyes. he laughs softly and cup your face "oh babe i don't even remember who she is. but don't worry love i only have eyes for you" he says and you simply smile widely. "i hope so".

he smiles too and look at your lips. "now kiss baby" he says in a whisper and leans in to kiss you tenderly. the kiss is so sweet and gentle, his lips moving perfectly against yours. he's delighted and he softly bites your bottom lip. you pull back and peck his nose. "so do you love me or do you hate me ?" you ask as he wipes away your last tears. he smiles bright and think before speaking again. "i think i hate you lovingly".

and his lips meet once again yours in a passionate kiss...

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 fic #lando norris fluff

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toodelusionalforreality · 25 days

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Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I've read this so many times for edits and I'm not even sure if it's any good. I appreciate all the love for Absolution, and this one offers a glimpse to their relationship in the past.

@theflowerswillbloom for you, love. Hope you enjoy.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]

Documenting, filing, and cataloguing—the simplest of tasks for a seasoned Spymaster—should have taken no more than a few hours at best. And yet, Azriel glared at the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk. As soon as he arrived home, he set out to clear them in hopes of sneaking out before any of his brothers pestered him about his recent disappearances, not that his affair was a secret. Half a day later, there he was in his gloomy office with nerves on edge.

A simple mission of surveillance had turned into a hunt of hostile outliers along the southern borders, stealing weeks from him. Luckily, he hadn’t promised N an early return. He felt guilty nonetheless for leaving her with no word.

A sadistic part of his heart wondered if she cared about him—lying awake in bed, listening for footsteps on her stairs, or rushing home to see if he was waiting for her.

Once, he returned from a similar mission earlier than expected and let his shadows stalk her for two days to see how she spent the days without him. That night, Azriel decided he was a twisted man.

Sometime after noon, he accepted his fate. He had half a mind to fling the papers into Sidra and run to N’s smithy to surprise her. How childish of him. A grown man excited to watch his lover’s face break into a kaleidoscope of emotions. N wouldn’t run into his arms, he knew, like the romantics fantasised. She was not a woman of such calibre.

N embraced every fleeting moment with a nonchalance that bordered on lethargy. And it seeped into their relationship as well. She loved him simply—with her generous compliments, intentional touches, and domestic ease around him. She always had a smile for him. Her hands always found his hair or cheek when they lay in bed together. Sometimes, they ventured as far as his scarred ones, brought them to her lips that delivered the faintest of kisses before she drifted to sleep. Her words were nothing but genuine and certain.

Azriel could vividly see the expression on her face if he materialised before her. She would look at him with sincere eyes, bright as the morning sun, and the corners of her lips would tug into a smile. ‘So how long do I get to keep you this time?’ she would tease.

Maybe, Azriel thought, that is enough.

Knowing she missed him dearly enough to mock his departure every time. But she also kissed him every time, she held him to her chest every time, and she looked him in the eye when they made love every time.

A cool shade fell over the room. His eyes strained to find the lines and curves he marked in black. Sweat trickled from behind his ears. Gone was the unforgiving sun crisping anything that dared set foot on the ground. With a roar of thunder that shook every stone in the walls, rains poured down. N. Azriel gathered the papers away in no order and left for the one place he knew her to be.

Standing in front of the locked doors, he felt like a fool. The rain beat down on his leathers, mocking him. The heat from the forge radiated out of the grilled window. She was there and had left not long ago.

What did he come here for? To protect her from a rain? Or did his heart latch onto the only viable excuse presented to him at the moment? Yes, he thought, that must be it.

Azriel headed down the path to her home at the centre of the square, a long walk from her shop on the outskirts of the town. I like to work in the quiet, she had said, imagine how tempting it must be when someone’s bothering you and you have molten iron in your hands. He knew she could fight, but the last thing he suspected of his delicate lover was making tools of death and destruction.

He hurried, short of sprinting, to catch her before she was soaked like a street rat, cold and wet. He let out an amused chuckle looking down at his own leathers. The things the woman made him worry about.

N had left earlier than usual. The way she moved, she should be home. But when Azriel’s steps faltered along the wet roads, he wasn't sure.

The streets were bare except for the few still seeking shelter from nature’s onslaught. Save for the stark silhouette of buildings and blobs of life that swished and slashed through, nothing could be seen past the wavering white veil.

A lone figure caught his eye. Edging along the walls, it braved the storm—an arm pressed to the forehead, another around the torso, shoulders hunched forward and face averted.

She looked worse than a drenched rat. Her clothes clung to her, too light to protect her from the prick of rain. The satchel across her body sagged and sagged, the seams threatening to burst at the bottom, pulling her down with it.

Azriel cursed himself. He closed the distance between them in quick strides and stretched a wing over her head. It didn’t offer much protection, but it allowed her to look up at the godsend cover and face him with a knowing smile.

The space between her brows furrowed and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Drops of water tugged at her eyelashes for mere seconds before making their descent down her pale cheeks. Her braid turned into a tangled mess, tendrils sticking to anything in their path like claws curling into her skin.

‘Want me to take you home?’

She nodded once, without hesitation, without a thought. He smiled and took her in his arms. She was shaking. Azriel preferred flying above the clouds, but he decided against it.

Between ‌her two broken breaths, his shadows dropped them on the landing in front of her house. N clutched his arms as her feet steadied under her. Letting go of him, she removed her satchel. Her arms strained under its weight. It hit the floor with heavy, contesting clanks. Probably leftovers of her day’s work that she couldn’t leave behind unfinished, even in her hurry.

‘When did you return?’ She asked, removing her muddied boots. The leather fought worse than her bag.

Azriel followed her cue and removed his own filthy one. ‘This morning.’ As he took off his other boot, N unbuttoned her pants. He lifted a brow.

She chuckled, her lips trembling from the cold. ‘I’d hate to clean the house in this weather. Take your clothes off too.’

He gave her a dirty grin before he looked over his shoulder. The staircase behind him led to the bar downstairs. He didn’t care to be seen naked. But N? She was only for his eyes. He adjusted his wings to span the width of the narrow space, hiding her from any intruders’ view.

‘No one comes up here at this hour,’ she said as she moved on to her shirt and the tunic underneath. Her legs gave a tremor even with his warmth next to her.

Just an inch of her bare skin made Azriel’s mouth water. And she stood there in her underwear. Mother, how much he missed her. His eyes wandered over her body—pale, cold, wet—unabashed as he undressed and tossed his clothes next to hers.

N shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She opened the door to her one-room apartment, undoing her braid. He held on to her hips and trailed her, planting kisses on her shoulder. Her hand found his as she led him into the bathroom. It was bright, unlike his own, white and pristine. It was spacious but not enough for him, for his wings. And yet, Azriel followed her without a complaint, like a starved dog catching the scent of food after days of hunger.

Hot water hit their naked bodies. He traced his rough, scarred hands along her skin. Firm, littered with healed cuts and white scar tissue, still the softest he ever had the pleasure to touch. N shoved his hands away as she lathered herself, only to laugh when they found her again. Azriel didn’t mind that he tasted more soap than her skin on his lips with each kiss. Gods, was he desperate.

Usually, she queried him about his day, or why he took so long. Or made a crude comment about how much she needed him only to hear him growl with desire. That day, she smiled and cleaned them both in silence with no words to distract him from her soothing touch. A proper tease.

When he wrapped his arms around her stomach and tugged her against his chest, she smacked at him. His wings flared, sending bottles off the shelf nailed to the wall. His shadows caught them before they hit the bathtub on the other side of the room.

‘Stop it,’ she giggled, soft and sweet. ‘You’re wrecking the place.’

Azriel buried his nose into her hair. Covered in soap, he still smelled her past the fragrance of jasmine. Sharp and clear, with a hint of melting iron. ‘I’ll buy you a new place.’

She laughed. A full, open laugh that shook her body. Azriel smiled. His heart tightened in his chest.

The bond was meant to tie him to her, draw him to her. He was prepared for the craving for her body, the lust that devoured him. But this was deeper. This ran in his very soul—taking his breath away unless it was the same air she breathed.

N turned around and pushed him a step back. ‘A minute, Azriel. Give me one minute,’ she said through her little laughs. She stood under the shower, tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

She didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t know his need for her unless she felt it too. She loved him though. She never said those words. But he saw the signs. In the looks she gave him, in her smiles, in the way she cared for him sometimes after long missions.

Azriel waited for the bond to piece together for her. Eighteen months. And he hadn’t told her about his torment either. It was his to bear for the time being.

He held his breath and watched the heat bring colour back to her skin, her cheeks coming alive—supple and flush. Her hair shone brighter. Her body stopped shivering and yet she draped her arms below her ribs.

Divinely simple and utterly bare only for him.

‘Your minute’s up,’ he whispered and stepped up to her, his hands on her hips.

She opened her eyes. ‘Hi.’ She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Finally.

She pulled him close by his elbows. Water ran down his back and wings. She turned them around and backed away. Azriel blinked. Her laughs filled the room. N stood by the door and dried her hair.

‘You tricked me,’ was all he said. His hands were immobile by his side, too shocked by what she had done, by what he hadn’t noticed. He was a spy, for Mother’s sake.

‘I asked you nicely.’ She patted down her body, her teasing eyes on him. ‘Now get done quick. Or do you want to stand there all night?’ And she walked out.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her form disappearing beyond the threshold. His wings twitched, and he rolled his shoulders. He was quick, alright. He turned off the water and was out and on her in a blink. N let out a yelp when her back collided with his dripping chest. Azriel sucked on her—her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t care. As long as he had her warmth and taste.

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Another laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to break free of his hold.

Crazed like an addict taking his first hit after withdrawal, Azriel gasped against her skin. ‘Only because you asked so nicely.’ He loosened his grip.

N faced him. She held the towel to his body—drying his neck, chest, arms, and back—slowly leading him to her bed. She left his wings untouched. She took her time while Azriel peppered pecks on her face. Anything to quench his thirst.

‘Do you care so much for me?’ He smiled into a kiss he left on her ear. Her attention made his heart flutter.

She grinned, ‘Gods no, I don’t want you to ruin my bed.’

‘Your bed gets ruined every time I’m here,’ he said, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue. A shiver went down her spine, and Azriel basked in the scent that filled the room. Her scent. The one that cried out for him, desperate and needy as him.

N tamed her face, wearing the mask of a woman who had an agenda. She pushed him back and he fell onto the mattress. She moved between his legs, a knee perched at the edge of the bed, and caressed his cheek. Her eyes were soft and caring.

He wished for nothing more than to stare into them all his life. One look at them and every moment in his life he felt unloved and unworthy was erased from his being.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, their tips scratching at his eyelids. N brought the towel to his head. She was as gentle as ever, but Azriel couldn’t waste a second without gazing at that beautiful face of hers. He shook out of her hold, ducking his head and turning.

‘Stop acting like a child,’ she laughed.

He grunted, ‘You’re smothering me,’ but it sounded like a whine to his ears.

‘Then stop moving!’

With a sigh, he gave up. Gods, what he wouldn’t do for her. He sat still and N allowed him the mercy to look at her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He couldn’t help the sighs that left his lips every minute. He smiled up at her, capturing every feature on her face with the eyes of a devotee graced upon by his benevolent god.

When N deemed him less of a sodden pup, she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She untangled each strand carefully, tugged them away from his eyes, and let them fall in their natural disarray. Her nails raked through his scalp, from his hairline to the base of his neck.

Azriel purred under her fingers. It took everything in his body not to fight against her ministrations and crush her body against his. His wings fluttered.

N looked at them and back into his eyes. Azriel nodded, his wings opening into a spread close to his body, close enough for her to reach. Droplets littered the membrane, too light to slide off under gravity. She barely touched the towel to his wing, and it twitched. She waited for a breath and tried again. This time, it held still. She repeated her movements, each time more careful than the last, from one spot to the next as gingerly as possible.

Azriel closed his eyes. His hands smoothed over her waist, his fingers digging into her tender flesh, and pulled her close. Warmth from her body hit his face. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between her breasts. He felt her heart beat under her skin. Steady, lulling.

That’s when he realised. It wasn’t lust that drew him to her or his bond. It was her—the solace she promised—a world far away from the treacherous reality he endured in his job, away from the nightmares of his past that haunted him, away from the loud and rush of this unjust one.

With her, he could be still.

With her, he could breathe.

With her, he could just be.

She froze every minute he spent with her, entrapping him in her delicately spun cocoon of comfort. She didn’t need her words, her touch or her body. She breathed and tension in his body and soul melted away. The ghosts that followed him around faded into nothingness. Every pain in his mind, forgotten.

She offered him life. Ecstasy at its purest.

The fabric that separated her from his wings was gone, discarded. Her fingertips grazed the outer curve of his wing. Azriel buried his face into her chest. If she allowed, he would crawl into her soul and stay there in its protection, in its everlasting, glowing warmth. He wanted nothing more than her in his life. He feathered his lips over her sternum. His wings wound around them, begging for more. He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her heart. The one he yearned to possess.

N settled on his lap. Her delicate body pressed against his desperate one. Azriel looked up. With a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, she nudged him out of his swarming thoughts.

‘You’re a handful, you know that? You don’t make it easy to care for you.’

He smiled. ‘I missed you.’ He smiled a lot around her as if she drew each one out from the very depths of him.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, ‘Oh, I can feel that.’

Azriel groaned and eventually laughed. ‘You’re naked in my arms. And you’re touching my wings. Can you blame me?’ His eyes darkened when she moved her hips again. ‘Kiss me. Now,’ he growled.

And for the first time that day, N obliged. She kissed him long and slow. Her lips were soft, plush, and pulsing with life. Her breaths warmed his skin. She pushed her body into his, and for the first time that day, she set her desires free. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers laced together on the back of his neck, pulling him close. She leaned back when he dipped and chased him when he pulled back. It was a dance she was a master at, syncing to his body’s rhythm as if she knew it better than him.

Azriel adored her tender love, but he needed more. He grabbed her damp hair into a fist. N whimpered into his mouth and he swallowed it whole. He was determined to lay claim to every inch of her soul if that’s what it took to make her his. He tugged her hair, and she arched her back with a long moan. He ran his teeth along her beautiful neck she offered for his taking. Her hands only pulled him closer.

His mate. His willing prey.

N wrapped her legs around his waist. Azriel crawled deeper into the bed and laid her down gently. He pulled back to admire her one more time, stroking her cheek as she smiled. He pecked her lips once and flipped her onto her stomach ripping a choked gasp from her.

‘Trust me?’ He breathed against her ear.

She nodded. He kissed the side of her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her back, enjoying every shiver that rattled her to the core. He sank his teeth into her waist just to make her yelp and glare over her shoulder. When he soothed the spot with a lick, she rolled her eyes smiling. He kissed all the way up until he found her lips again. His body relaxed against hers with careful pressure. He sighed.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured below her ear.

Doubt crept into his pathetic heart every time she eluded his words. Once in a while her feelings crept over the string between their hearts like a spider, too little a thing for him to notice, but present nonetheless. Invisible and lurking, and always out of his reach. With the bond in place for him already, though he should have been able to feel her emotions, he barely did.

He needed to hear her words. He needed her to say those words and some more.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She asked, as breathless as he.

Azriel chuckled darkly, ‘Tell me you missed me.’ His shadows emerged for the play. They swept her hair aside for their master to suckle on her neck.

‘I’ll show you if you stop teasing.’

The seduction in her voice alone tempted Azriel to destroy her until she was a mess for him, whimpering and declaring her love for him.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face close. ‘Words first,’ he growled as his other hand closed on her breast. A thumb ghosted over her nipple before he pinched it between his fingers.

N looked over her shoulder, her eyes dark and wide. ‘I missed you,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, sucking on the skin she could reach. Azriel eased his grip and then she spoke again, ‘So much that I was dreaming of your fingers every night.’

Azriel laughed. His body shook over hers, the sound reverberating through her being. ‘Such a tease,’ he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of her face, ‘You sure do know how to get your way.’

He slipped his fingers between her legs and hummed as he ran a digit along her slit. N held her breath, her hands clawing at the sheets. He caressed the inside of her thigh until she whined. When he tucked his hand under her leg and pulled it aside, N gasped at the cold air’s kiss on her wet core.

Azriel breathed in her scent—a fresh, sharp, intoxicating sweetness that ensnared his senses right before she stole pieces of his soul. He teased her entrance with his fingers, her lips smooth and slick against his scarred skin. When he slipped them inside, her breaths shuddered into broken mists.

He worked her with slow and deliberate strokes, for his own sanity than hers. He etched every groove and bend of his favourite maze into his memory. He kissed her lips as he pulled his fingers out and spread her slick onto his neglected cock. The moan that tore from his throat was one he would be embarrassed for life. But her mesmerised eyes on his lips erased any notion of it.

He grabbed her hip and entered her slowly as she welcomed him with a sigh. He stayed still, listening to her stuttering breaths against the echoes of rain.

So intimate, so real.

N laced her fingers with his on her hip. ‘I missed this,’ she whispered.

This.

Not 'you'.

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Azriel grasped her hands in each of his and tucked them under her chin. He pulled out until the very tip and drove back in. Her moan pierced through the cries of the storm. He repeated his movements, sliding out with care and sliding in with fury. His breaths turned into groans, angry and beastly. He bit into her neck, her shoulder, between her blades to stop more desperate words from spilling out.

N touched his knuckles with her lips. She covered his hand with kisses, from his wrist to fingertips, worshipping every inch of his marred hand. She let her tongue slick over a particularly ragged part of his skin whose mere sight blurred his vision with vengeance for what he had endured.

Azriel pinched his eyes shut. Letting go of her hand, he clutched her jaw. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

Foolish woman. She leaned into his hand as if it wasn't that of a killer, as if it wasn’t capable of offering nothing but a sweet embrace. She carded her fingers through his hair, cradling his face close. And brushed her lips over the length of the fingers that ghosted over them.

‘Azriel,’ she uttered his name as if it soothed her. As if she had been waiting for this moment just like him.

His hip bucked. ‘Say it again, say my name.’

‘Azriel.’

‘Again,’ he said against her skin, his voice coated in desperation.

‘Azriel.’

And she chanted his name with each breath.

His thrusts faltered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. He wasn’t a worthy contender for her vicious tenderness. Yet, she gave it to him in earnest. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

Her hand obeyed. She moved her leg higher, offering her every depth to him. She circled her clit slowly, with the slightest of pressure. Her slick trailed down her fingers and she writhed under him. She gave him her moans; she gave him her body; she gave him her pleasure.

‘That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.’ He hummed at her misery, his cock delivering the faintest taste of what he suffered at her ignorance.

Her cunt pulsed around him, gripping him until pleasure laced with pain with each slide. N whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips into him. His hand on her jaw slipped to her throat, the only thing that kept her from curling away from him. She stared into his eyes, baring her soul for him. Her legs trembled, desperate to close, and his shadows crept up to hold them in place. She gasped when a few wisps searched for her soaked fingers and circled her skin.

‘Shh,’ Azriel kissed her temple, ‘I know.' He pressed his tender lips to her cheek, a devastating contrast to his thrusts, ‘Come for me.’

And after a breath, she did.

The bond reeked of desire.

His and hers. His desperation, her relief. His longing, her content.

Azriel sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard—injecting the venom coursing through his veins into her, poisoning her with her own medicine, sharing the agony she inflicted upon him.

His heart was a house on fire, the mating bond a fuse, and she, the one with a match.

He pried her fingers away from her core and shoved them into his mouth. He purred at her taste, his chest rumbling against her back. With two staggering moves, he attained the same heavenly pleasure she did.

His hands wrapped around her, his legs intertwined with hers, and her body reaching out to his in a way that could only be described as a lover’s despair—the way they were meant to be. One and whole. Every breath, shared and stolen. Every touch, burning and soothing.

Their moans stopped and their breaths calmed. Finally, the sounds of the world rushed back to his ears. The distant echo of the angry rain, the soft music from the bar below, the ghostly whispers that never turned into anything coherent. N sagged into the bed, loosening her grip on his fingers.

Azriel eased her leg, massaging it with a careful hand. He kissed her cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ he said, ‘You okay?’

N nodded. ‘That was. . .’ she said between breaths, ‘intense.’

‘Good intense?’ He smiled against her shoulder, kissing the spots left by his canines where blood threatened to break through her skin.

‘“You should go on long missions more often” intense.’

He nipped her ear. ‘Say the word. And I will take you any way you want, whenever you want.’ He rolled onto his back, adjusting his wings under him. N looked at them with fascination. He pulled her to his chest, ‘Don’t unless you want to go again.’

She chuckled. ‘I can’t even look at them?’

‘You can do anything you want to them,’ he murmured to her lips, ‘Just give me a warning.’ His wing draped over her, the curved tip grazing up her leg as if agreeing to him, consenting to her.

They remained silent for a long time, tracing swirls on each other’s skin. A moment frozen in time, drenched in comfort and warmth. Azriel ran his fingers through the lengths of her hair, damp more from his sweat than their shared shower. Every inch of her was marked by his presence. He smiled.

‘Azriel?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Next time come by sooner so that I can stop worrying.’ She was watching the rain through the glass door that stood between them and the balcony. Before he could remark, she added smiling, ‘The weather is nice.’

Azriel glanced over his shoulder. Winds howled—changing course every minute, spouting rain in every direction. The metal bird feeder suspended from the ceiling rattled and screeched. It swayed wildly close to breaking off its hinges. Water trickled along the walls, moving steadily towards the threshold.

He looked back at her and lifted a brow. ‘Nice? You’re about to be flooded.’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled up at him. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, ‘But I can do this,’ she wrapped an arm around his torso, pressing into him with a long sigh.

Azriel trailed his index along her cheek, down her jaw. He ached to let his will crumble and give in to his impulse. He only did it thrice after the bond snapped for him, too afraid to feel the nothingness again. He called to her through the bond—a gentle caress, begging her to follow him, pulling her closer than his physical body allowed, breaking the laws of the real world.

He rested his finger on her heart hoping to feel something on her skin. An increase in heart rate, a hitch in her throat, or maybe the thrum of the bond’s stupid song that left him sleepless at night. Azriel would accept anything.

But her heart beat steadily, unaware of his desperation. The bond shimmered with his love, the light weaving through the thread until it met with her void again.

Ironic. The one born with the shadows had a heart aglow with love. And the other—warmth and light incarnated, had hers hidden in darkness.

N placed a hand on his chest and perched her chin on it. She looked at him with curious eyes. ‘What?’

You’re my mate.

The words were at the tip of his tongue. Three words and she would put him out of his misery. She would accept him, even if the bond never snapped for her. She would hold him close, kiss his lips, and tell him she loved him. She would rid him of some of his darkness.

A smile graced Azriel’s lips. He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

‘You hungry?’

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 1 month

Text

Unconventional Flowers Event - April

Bleeding Hearts and the Cherry Blossom Festival ft. Nanami

A/N: April prompt for my Unconventional Flowers Event. A little longer and angsty compared to my previous ones but here we are. Requested for by the sweet @harlekin6

Rating: 13+ to be safe, fluffy, slightly angsty

Pairing: Nanami x reader

Word Count: 1634

“This way sensei!” The students lead you eagerly through the grounds of the vast cherry blossom park. The delicate pink blooms had finally blossomed and the school had thought it was a good idea to go as a group to see them.

Usually, you’d be excited and looking forward to going but this year when the plans were being made you hesitated. It brought back painful and embarrassing memories from almost a year ago. Memories you had tried to bury, unsuccessfully.

A heavy dread settles in your chest as you remember it like it was yesterday. The tears, the yelling, the insistence that the two of you could work it out. The both of you had been on back-to-back missions, schedules making you miss each other consecutively. Hadn’t spent any time together as a couple in months, even though you lived together.

Perhaps he felt inadequate when you had brought up the topic of wanting to spend more time with him, maybe both of you putting in some time off together. It was cherry blossom season after all. Maybe the date you had planned this weekend could be extended and you could take a mini vacation to reconnect. You hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that he would look at you in the face, calmly, and say maybe you should break up.

The air seemed to vanish from your lungs. Was it something you did? No. Was there something he needed to talk about? No.

“You deserve better,” he’d said, readjusting his glasses. You’d been together for the better part of a year, understood each other’s line of work, and hadn’t really had any arguments or complaints. “I just don’t feel like I’ve been a good boyfriend to you. You deserve someone who can do nicer things for you. Who can actually give you proper attention and be present for you.”

“I’m too needy? Is that what you’re saying?” You had asked as you jolted up from the sofa.

“No. Not at all. But I don’t feel like I’m giving my all to this relationship. It’s unfair to you. It might be best if we break up.” His voice felt strained and he looked at you like he wanted to pull you into a hug and tell you it was for the best. But you felt yourself turn icy and move away from him. You spent the night in the guest bedroom, sobbing, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

You couldn’t face him, felt trapped in this space that had become your home like you were living in a stranger’s skin. It felt like a cruel joke as you had silently packed your suitcase, being careful not to disturb him, spotting both your spring yukatas hanging next to each other in the closet, ready for the cherry blossom festival. You had packed the yukata, swearing you’d never wear it, and had quietly slipped out in the quiet hours of the morning.

Avoiding each other had been hard. Both of you worked at the same school, after all, taught the same students. You thought you had been fine. A month passed. You thought you were moving on.

Then one day, you saw him leaving campus with another woman. No one you knew, but an attractive woman. Your feet had taken you to the nearest bar and you had downed the shots like water, one after the other. The kind bartender had helped you get a cab home and you had passed out on your bed. The next day morning, you woke up, hungover, and immediately checked your call list, feeling proud there weren't any drunk outgoing pity calls to him…then froze when you saw a text from him.

It was a photo of a very strange-looking plant, a large bouquet of it, heart-shaped with little petals hanging off the bottom.

Are you all right?

The text that accompanied it, had you wracking your brain trying to piece together what had happened. You ran the flower picture through Google’s image search which identified them as Bleeding Heart flowers, and then a quick perusal through your browsing history had you covering your face and moaning in mortification.

YOU HAD SENT A BOUQUET OF THESE FLOWERS TO HIM.

A damn bouquet of flowers that signified heartbreak and unreturned love. The card accompanying the bouquet was a long letter about how much you hated him for ending things. If the ground could split open and swallow you whole, now would be the right time. How were you supposed to face him at work? When you saw him a few hours later, he looked at you exactly how you had been wishing he wouldn’t. That look of empathy and pity.

“I think we should talk.”

“No. We don’t. Forget it happened.” Just like how you forgot me

“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” No I’m not all right. It hurts to see you. To be near you.

“I’m fine!” With the hardest effort you’ve ever exerted in your life, you turn away. “I’m sorry for the flowers. I was drunk. I think maybe it’s for the best if we don’t talk to each other anymore. Unless it’s about work.”

“Y/n…” Please don’t say my name. I’ll shatter.

You walked away, steeling yourself to not cry in front of him, your heart cracking and breaking into pieces all over again.

“Sensei!” You snap out of your reverie, pulled back to the present, wearing the same yukata you swore you’d never wear. Yuji had a wide grin on his face, clearly excited to explore the rest of the area. He and Nobara and Megumi were all dressed in their finest, little hearts unburdened by the grief of a relationship breakup.

You fix a smile on your face. At the least, the staff had some consideration on your part when you said you’d chaperone the students rather than go with the rest of the teachers. It was easier this way. The students were a good distraction. You were supposed to meet up with Gojo who was helping you chaperone, so all of you kept your eyes peeled, searching for a head full of fluffy white locks.

It doesn’t take too long, but when you finally spy Gojo, you realize with a heart-stopping squeeze that he isn’t alone. Tall, blond, and looking subdued, Nanami walks next to him, and it is all you can do to not panic and keep your composure.

“Was Nanami-san supposed to be chaperoning with us?” You ask, hoping you sounded nonchalant though there’s a quiver in your voice.

The 3 students give you their most innocent smiles before Nobara replies. “He’s not here to chaperone. And neither are you actually. We’re going with Gojo-sensei.”

A flood of trepidation fills you. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. That wasn’t the plan.” You start weighing your options in case they did go with Gojo. You could just brush past him and go home. No one would stop you. You could -

“There you are!” Gojo’s loud voice cuts through your escape plan thoughts. Realizing there was no way out of it, you stiffen, and when Nanami sees you, he does the same, eyes widening slightly.

“Well, I’ve got the kids!” Gojo says cheerfully. “Meet you guys here in another hour.” With that, they all vanish into the crowd.

Nanami looks tired, more than usual. He looks at you as though unsure what to say. He was wearing the yukata that had been hanging in the closet on the night you left. Last year, when the two of you should have been at this event, together. It felt like a million miles separated you both despite being feet away from each other.

“Looks like they gave us the slip huh?” you ask nervously, trying to brush off the tension that filled you. You were looking for an opening, trying to leave without being awkward.

“I guess they did.” Nanami rubs the side of his neck with a large hand before fixing his hazel eyes on you. “How have you been?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod casually. “I’ve been good. Busy.”

“Mhm. So I’ve heard. You took on so many missions that you were barely in Tokyo at all for the past few months.”

“I needed the change of scenery. Went to a lot of nice places actually.”

“And met a lot of nice people?” he asks quietly, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Your chest tightens. It was none of his business, really, but you’re helpless as you spill the truth. “No. Work doesn’t really leave much room for dating. It doesn’t leave room for a lot of things.” You added, unable to keep a tinge of insinuation out of your voice.

He picks up on this and looks away. “Y/n…It’s been hard. Since we broke up.” The words are said with regret and your breath catches in your throat. “I…I want a second chance. I made a mistake.”

His words are said so simply. He wasn’t one for flair and big declarations. You knew that. Nanami was a man of action. He did things. Things that pulled on your feelings, things that made you feel like he cared, even after he had broken up with you.

“What changed?” You ask, not daring to let yourself hope.

“It just…doesn’t feel right without you. I need you. It feels like I’ve been wandering and didn’t have a home. Home isn’t home when you’re not there.”

Tears prick your eyes. He moves closer to you and before you know it, you’re in his embrace.

“Well?” he whispers in your ears, but it’s clear he’s about to crack.

You nod against him, cherry blossoms swirling down like little falling stars around you, everything you wanted finally coming true.

All animated lines and banners by @/ cafekitsune

#nanami kento #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanamin #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami cuteness #vee writes #nanami kento angst #nanami kento jjk #unconventional flowers event

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shelbyssins · 1 year

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HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm.

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world.

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue.

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections.

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective.

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,”

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane.

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,”

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing.

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,”

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,”

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,”

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,”

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing.

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky.

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets.

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him.

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word.

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head.

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet.

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little.

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening.

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #polly gray #arthur shelby #tommy shelby x reader fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader imagine #tommy shelby x reader oneshot

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sparkbeast20 · 9 months

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Theories for WHB

These are purely speculative and base on what we got from the official site, character sheets, etc.

Lucifer and "Some of the devils from Paradise Lost" are Fallen angels

Bathin and Buer despite being or former of Paradise Lost are not Fallen angels.

Morax and Marbas both lose an eye, which judging from we saw from the angels. They all have one eye different or hidden, because that eye is a sign that they are affiliated to Heaven, best example is Michael's eye.

The only that holds theory back is that Marbas has his missing eye on his left, not right.

Also... That means that Lucifer's design might have him with an eyepatch or his bangs is covering it.

Belphegor's Strain/Distant Relationship with the other kings

This is purely speculative because of his placement in the Gacha screen.

Like I and many others assume the dummy at the back is Lucifer, but with closer look, Lucifer's sigil is on the dummy next to Satan and Leviathan.

This is gut feeling and with the knowledge that Belphegor rebel against heaven he didn't want to work. That Maybe they use that part of his lore but with the kings. Like he did something that made the other kings distrust him in the past.

The connect of Solomon "Death/Disappearance" to Beelzebub's leaving Avisos/Abyssos.

The only thing that hold this theory together is the date/year it all happened. B.C. 931

The Possible of Andrealphus' family and friends isn't really dead

Thanks to @d34dlysinner for bringing to my attention.

So in the missing Solomon teaser, the devil crossed out might be Andrealphus' friends and family.

And with knowing that Raphael is the angel in this post, it make sense!

But what I'm thinking is that... Raphael might not killed them, and Andrealphus assume that they might be dead, but what if they were turned into angels.

This would be more painful for Andrealphus if he's being killing angels and he might've killed his own friends and family.

The Final Temptation is the reason the other three will reveal themselves to MC

So, from what we've seen, the main goal of "Season 1" is breaking the contact with the 72 nobles/devils. But what I was wondering is that they never once mention about the Final temptation concept in any of the vids about the story and game play/system.

And this made me think... what if the Final Temptation mention in the app stores version was a hint of plot of a future story in the game.

And I'll even go out and say that this might be their way to introduce the other three sins/kings.

Like, I was curious is to why the other kings haven't been revealed yet when we see some of their nobles.

Then I had a thought, maybe they didn't want to get involve with MC just yet, but as soon as the idea of the Final Temptation was mention they thought that maybe its time to meet MC.

So here's how I think it'll go.

MC finish all 72 devils contracts and even it pains the kings and nobles, MC has to go back to the human.

But even with their power is fully unlocked, it's still not enough to win or end the war.

So some of them tried to look for a different way to end the war and that's how they stumble upon the Final temptation. Or one of the other kings (Lucifer, Asmodeus or Belphegor) brought this to the other four kings.

And there we have a plot for Season 2 :D

The breaking of the contract required both party (MC and said Nobles) feel mutual or has strong feelings

Now, this is just me and my thoughts on this moment with Zagan.

Here's a thing, I have no problem with Sitri calling us as Solomon, because he at least knows that we are our own person.

While with Zagan... He compare us with Solomon.

Now, here's my theory with this... What if when MC and Zagan try to break his contract is because Zagan doesn't have real feels or doesn't see MC as someone to respect.

So when he and MC tried to figure out what's the reasoning, they get to know each other better and there, Zagan is MC as their own person.

Thus, when they tried it again and this time it works.

This also give a reason why MC can't just go around and breaking the contracts, it gives the other nobles a chance to develop and make the story interesting.

So far, this is all my theories for now, and there are some I missed because I forgot about it or I missed it completely.

You guys can share your thoughts on these :D

#what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #whb theories #whb thoughts #whb sins #whb kings #whb angles #whb solomon #whb andrealphus #whb zagan #whb belphegor #whb lucifer #whb marbas

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spiriteddreams · 11 months

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I Know the End

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Warnings: angst Word Count: ~2k A/N: season 2 is out who's ready to cry with me :D

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was all red. But it’s easy to be selfish when you are in love. You hold onto the concept like a lifeline and become strung alone in this clothesline of hearts. Your emotions are spread thin, clipped at the edges at the result of a strained relationship.

A love with Gojo Satoru was never one for the books. It was whispered words when no one was looking and lingering touches when you pass by one another. How many years have you played this cruel game with him? The memories bleed together as do the years and yet you hold on selfishly. To him, the world did not need to know of the way his crystal eyes lingered a second too long on your figure, or the way he swore upon empty promises to no one but you. He loves so easily, sly with his words and so eager to be around you. His touch is a brand, his words a blunt knife, driving in, digging deep, dismantling you bit by bit. But the worst comes when the overwhelming weight of it all feels heaviest whilst you are alone. If there’s one thing that becomes clear the longer you’re around him, it’s that Gojo Satoru is far too good at pushing people away. He’s so easy to get along with and you find yourself falling for him before you even realize it. But he keeps people at a distance. No matter how close you may be, physically and emotionally, it’s like you run into Infinity everytime.

And yet you glorify it in your head, pretend that sickly sweet words and phantom touches are real. You cling to the memories in the worst way possible, because everyone leaves you before Gojo does. And when he finally does, he does it so casually cruel that you think you feel his technique shoot through your chest and leave a gaping hole as you bleed. You tell yourself that you have parted on good terms, because in your head, it is easiest to remember the good rather than the bad.

You remember high school days, hand clasped around Shoko’s as you chased after two boys who wobbled on a bike together. The blissful ignorance of childhood is one that you wish you would have treasured longer. Because a mission gone wrong turned the course of fate and you could only watch as both Gojo and Geto stumbled down their separate paths. Only that Gojo’s led towards you and your open arms. The guilt for not reaching out far enough for Geto still eats at you and you wonder if perhaps Gojo holds that against you.

But when you recall the memories and bury yourself under sheets and stare at picture frames that collect dust and his text messages you’ve chosen to ignore, you are selective about your memories. Because the good is warm and comfortable and loving and oh so cruel. But the good is followed by the bad in a tidal wave that crashes upon the shore during high tide. It pulls you into the deep, that freezing painful deep that stings your skin and shocks you to your core. And then you are drowning in hurt, in tears, in unrelenting sadness as you mourn over a relationship held together by cobwebs.

But forever will you believe that Gojo Satoru is deserving of highest praise. His name carries across the stories of the legendary holder of the Six Eyes who, when he was born, shook the world. And he knows it. You relish the days when your friends, your family would tease you both. Words of appraisal cooing over the two of you even as Gojo looked away with a blush on his face and grumbled for everyone to “stop making a big deal out of nothing.” But even as he said those words, he didn’t pull away from your touch, instead leaning closer, as if chasing the brush of your fingertips against his skin.

Then it ends. It ends on a day you least expect it the most, when the sun is warm and caresses your face and you think that it is just another day of rest, basking in the sun. Despite that, the heavy feeling in your chest that had been building for the past few days has seemed to fester, ready to spill over. Something is near and you know it, can feel it and no matter how much you try to push away the growing anxiety, it sits heavy in your chest. You wonder if Gojo’s noticed. And as if he was reading your thoughts, he appears, calling your name with a tone that douses you in cold. Peeking through his sunglasses, his blue eyes look duller than usual.

“Are you okay?” you sit up, watching as Gojo looks down at you for a moment, then looks away. He is silent and you wish you could read what was going on in his head. Perhaps that’s always been one of the hardest things about loving someone who’s walls have been built up for so long that even when he allows you to peek through one crack, it becomes smoothed over in an instant, blocking you right back out.

He sighs, “I’m fine.” His words are far too clipped for comfort and you straighten up, staring up at him in confusion. You don’t prod him to speak, knowing that when he wants to, he will. Gojo likes to choose his words slowly, precise and careful with everything he says. He dislikes rushing into things, and gods knows how much he spends in his head mulling over his thoughts. It scares you, more than you’ll admit, to know that there are a million things that Gojo has, and will always, keep from you.

“I think we should end things.” The words take a moment to register, but when they do, you’re snapping your head up, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock. “Before you argue about it, I’ve already thought it over,” Gojo says bluntly. He still refuses to look at you. “I don’t think beneficial for us to see each other.”

You stare at him in shock. “Beneficial? You act as if this is just a romance of convenience.” The cold seeps into your tone before you register it. But Gojo looks unfazed, as if he was prepared for this. It scares you. It’s just another one of those things he’s kept to himself. “Satoru, what’s going on?” He hates the way you say his name, so breathy and concerned. Sometimes he feels as if you can see right through him. He wonders if you’ve caught onto his own lies that have begun to wrap around his own throat.

“The distance between us has grown too far, I don’t think it’s fair for us to continue to pretend that we feel the same,” Gojo shakes his head. You push yourself to your feet, gathering your composure before fixing him with a glare, the same defiant glare that drew him in. He takes a shaky breath and reminds himself that this is necessary in the long run. You will be safer if you are farther away from him and this path that he’s chosen to follow. The sacrifices that are sure to come will put you both in a precarious position where you will have to choose between one another and the greater need of Jujutsu society. And if Gojo can make that decision before it tears you apart on the spot, it’s a risk he’s willing to take. The apologies can come later, he’ll grovel at your feet if he has to, put aside his ego and swear up and down that he’ll never deceive you like this again. But for now, please, he begs, please just let him do what he needs to do before someone else forces your hand.

“No,” you shake your head, eyes narrowed as you take a step towards him and jab a finger at his chest. Your eyes widen momentarily when you make contact with the hard plane of his clothed chest; he let down Infinity. “No, you don’t get to pull this on me. One week ago you were telling me how I was yours for the rest of your life and now you’re trying to break up with me? Cut the bullshit, Satoru.” He hears the tremble in your voice and he’s not sure who you’re trying to convince more: you or him.

“Look, I’ve been thinking—”

“Then stop thinking!” you shout. You sound irrational and you know it. The tears gathering in your eyes are a clear sign of it. “You’re making it sound like this is all some thought out, self-sacrificing, selfish plan and—” You both stare at one another. Gojo hates that you know him so well because you come to the right conclusion far too quickly and he knows that you’re not going to back down now.

“This is your plan isn’t it,” you say quietly, voice tinged with disbelief. Gojo was known for his plans, well thought out and well executed to success. So careful and thoughtful in the process and you’ve watched him time and time again commit to things without a second thought. So to hear that you’re part of this next selfish plan, placed in this position, ready to be swallowed up on his chessboard is a slap in the face. You can play dirty too and in this moment, with anger and disbelief clouding your thoughts and vision, you strike faster than him.

“Fine. You want to break up, then we break up. But we’re doing it on my terms,” your words are all bark and no bite but you refuse to let him see. You hold back the tears and push through your watery words as you step back.

“If you want to call it off, then it’s off for good. When all this shit is over I’m going back to Kyoto and I don’t ever want to see your stupid, pretty, face again!” you stumble over your words and Gojo only watches behind his glasses, mouth pressed into a thin line. You want to rip them off his face and force him to look you in the eyes and tell the truth. Far too cocky for his own good, you hate that Gojo Satoru is so effortlessly cruel and fuck does it make you angry. The words spill and you take low jabs, both verbally and physically and Gojo just takes it. He takes the watery calls of his name and the cursing, your gasps of breath and your own selfish cruelty that he knows damn well that you don’t mean.

By the time he disappears, you’re left with nothing but the crisp air of Autumn. Sharp and stinging in the back of your throat, you inhale sharply as you whip your head in the direction you know he’s gone in: your shared home. The worst part is that you had both kept things a secret, a little game where you both sat at other ends of a glass table and now that it's shattered, where do you turn to, who do you turn to?It is then that you finally realize that despite your own attempts to twist the game, you had fallen right in. Blinded by the sudden rush of anger and the overflow of anxiety from the past few days you had done exactly what he had wanted. A breakup is a breakup, whether or not it is on his terms or your terms. And you know that now the words have been said, it’ll be hell to try to find him and talk it back over.

If only he was still around to hear your cries of his name as you run towards him, bloodied and battered, voice hoarse as you frantically search for him in Shibuya. You catch wind of the words “prison realm” and your blood runs cold.

On October 31, Gojo Satoru feels his limbs stiffen and his mind races. You’re still out there, still fighting, still angry, still cursing his name with love disguised as hatred. You’re still out there but so long as you stay out there, stay alive then things are all going according to plan. And when he finds a way to escape, to destroy those cursed fingers once and for all, he’ll grovel at your feet and promise to love you to whatever end.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 Bonus: @shiinleaf and gojo kiss and make up and there was no official breakup and all is well

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

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nalyra-dreaming · 11 days

Note

From Reddit:

The show wasn't performing on a stellar level in S1 when Lestat was in every episode. The fact of the matter is this show had a lot going against from inception. For one, the source material isn't all that relevant today if I'm being brutally honest. That's why it took as long as it did for an adaptation to come to fruition after being scrapped and passed up on other networks. No disrespect to Anne Rice, she did set the path for all these other shows to tread, but vampire media has become a tough sell in recent years and it's popularity is no where close to where it was in even 2010. Fox's The Passage was a wonderful show that was canceled the first season. Morbius was a box office failure, The Strain-canceled, NS4A2- cancele, and Dracula (NBC) - canceled. Now throw in a show centered around a melodramatic gay vampire relationship? Very tough sell because queer shows often have their own set of struggles appealing to a wide audience (RIP Our Flag Means Death, and Good Omens was very lucky to be revived for one more season after being canceled).

I for one love the relationship aspect of the show, but it made IWTV that much more niche. The movie back in 94 was controversial because it was so niche, luckily it had the start power to make it successful but it messed up Tom's career for years. Even if every book reader did show up for this show (and they didn't) it still would have been too small of an audience. And I say this as an avid fan of Rice and a book reader.

I have watched nearly every person who has reacted to the show on YouTube who wasn't a book reader and guess who is their favorite regardless of race, age, or sexual orientation? Lestat. And guess which episode they all have liked best? Episode 5 because it was an escape from all the melodrama and actually had some action. Despite my favorite parts of the show being the Loustat romance, I can admit that most people aren't tuning into AMC, home of The Walking Dead, for that. I hate to say this, but the show would probably have performed even worse if Lestat was not made as extreme and off the wall as he was. You either love him, or love to hate him.

Unfortunately, we live in an age that quality shows such as this don't make it very far. Hence why television is so weighed down with police, medical, and firefighter dramas at the moment (yawn).

Nalyra, it sounds like the show really will be cancelled based on this. Do you agree with this comment? I know AMC owns the intellectual properties. What is stopping them from cancelling the Immortal Universe & selling those rights if it’s not making money & people aren’t watching?

Alright, Nonny, sorry I needed a moment.

cracks knuckles

Let me take that one apart :))

“The show wasn't performing on a stellar level in S1 when Lestat was in every episode. The fact of the matter is this show had a lot going against from inception. For one, the source material isn't all that relevant today if I'm being brutally honest. That's why it took as long as it did for an adaptation to come to fruition after being scrapped and passed up on other networks.”

Nope. It was passed on and from network to network because Christopher Rice wrote the script and wanted to start with “Wolfkiller”. Now, as has been detailed here by @cbrownjc (for example), that wasn’t a good idea, because it would literally give all the story away. And THAT is why it was likely passed on. Note also that when AMC finally acquired all the rights they scrapped that script immediately, and Anne and Christopher likely signed NDAs, because though they were/are Executive Producers… there is no statement, whatsoever. Which MIGHT have to do with Christopher’s rejected script. 😬

Also, I think the show has more than proven how just slight twists can make this source material immensely relevant for today. Their social commentary and color-conscious casting is top notch. Not seeing that… well. What do you want me to say to that? 😅

Fox's The Passage was a wonderful show that was canceled the first season. Morbius was a box office failure, The Strain-canceled, NS4A2- canceled, and Dracula (NBC) - canceled.

… Okay I did not watch “The Passage”, but the other ones. And apart from The Strain’s first season they were all very sub par. Like the first season of NS4A2? Intriguing!!! Second season? I wanted to bash my head against the wall!! The Strain I actually bought, and the initial setup was awesome… and then it just went downhill. Dracula… lol, yeah. I wasn’t surprised. And let’s not even talk about Morbius. (I think I was very drunk by the end of that one, lol)

Imho - it’s not the “vampire media” but the quality of said vampire media. And, let’s not forget - this is the Vampire Chronicles, the very basis for a lot of these re-inventions. It’s a very different kind of beast. And a very distinct universe, imho.

Now throw in a show centered around a melodramatic gay vampire relationship? Very tough sell because queer shows often have their own set of struggles appealing to a wide audience (RIP Our Flag Means Death, and Good Omens was very lucky to be revived for one more season after being canceled).

Yeah well, from what I heard OFMD killed of one of the very beloved characters there in very bad writing and… well. That didn’t go over well. (So I heard.) And Good Omens was never supposed to be more than three seasons afaik (after that initial ONE season).

It's not the gay or queer - it's the quality and setup, imho. It's why the rating is at friggin' 97% this time round. And why there is a whole universe being set up. There is just SO MUCH you can do with the VC.

The movie back in 94 was controversial because it was so niche, luckily it had the start power to make it successful but it messed up Tom's career for years.

WHAT. What are they talking about. Niche??? I was there, in packed theaters. WHAT??? Also Tom's career. Niche... yeah it was controversial, but not because of niche, but because it was very gay for the mainstream 90s!!!!

Even if every book reader did show up for this show (and they didn't) it still would have been too small of an audience. And I say this as an avid fan of Rice and a book reader.

🙄 To be honest (forgive me but), they sound like one of those hardcore book fans who stop after QotD because it’s “not the original trilogy” after. SMH.

That one… is probably true, I guess. Or at least in parts, I don’t think that everyone liked ep5 best, nor wanted to escape “the melodrama”. But there is a reason why Lestat is the main character of the VC, and why he is so iconic. And Sam…. manages to conjure him, on possession-level, lol shrugs

Unfortunately, we live in an age that quality shows such as this don't make it very far.

At least they acknowledge the quality :)) … this is why it’s so good we’re on AMC. They have experience with shows like this. And they own the books.

_____

Okay. (I think it’s clear I don’t agree with this comment^^)

Nonny, the show won’t be canceled because of takes like this, or through takes like this.

You ask what is stopping AMC to cancel the IU and sell it all?

Well, for one - who would like to buy it if they fail to develop it? They would NEVER get the money back if THEY fail to monetize this. And they did pay big bucks to get all of it.

There is a whole universe in those books. And I mean, Mark Johnson only said just the other day, at the fan premiere, that they’re developing Talamasca and more. Why would they put money into an adjacent show, if they were planning on cancelling the IU?

And, trust me, this IU… is built on the VC. There is a reason why Rolin Jones is on record saying AMC wants to do 10 seasons. They are going to milk this thing, for all it’s worth.

Also - people are watching. It has its audience. I have no idea where this is coming from - from the cable ratings? The show is #1 on all streaming sites. What do you mean people aren’t watching? :)

IWTV has been adapted before, and so I do agree with the OP wrt to some people biding their time. Which is something I low-key understand, even though I do not agree, because they’re missing out big time, and ultimately only hurt themselves with it.

But … trust me - when the truly “new stuff”(*) will happen?

I bet then this show will take off.

(* Mandatory disclaimer: IWTV is brilliantly reimagined, but some people seem to be stuck in the book structure mentally, even though we are far from “only on one book”. Still, for all intents and purposes we are on IWTV for the majority of the story, and (a lot of) that HAS been told before. However… we will enter never before seen territory soon. Have actually already gotten to see a revenant?!!!

Let’s… just wait.

But I actually, sincerely doubt this show will be in any kind of danger.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #reddit

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bas-writes · 1 year

Text

Above The Stars

Character: Rosinante Reader: gender neutral Word Count: 1697 CW: fluff, slice of life, Rosinante lives!AU, dilf!Rosinante, established relationship Synopsis: Rosinante lures you out of the ship in such an unusual way you immediately suspect there's something on his mind. You're not ready, though, for what exactly. A/N: a little @onepiece-blorboexchange thingie I wrote for @tardiiart :3 happy valentine's season, my dear, I hope you'll enjoy your dose of tooth-rotting fluff 🤭

Rosinante rarely lured you out to places like this: reclusive, wild and, most importantly, away from the crew's curious ears. It’s so not in his style you’ve started growing suspicious as soon as you left town’s outskirts, soon leaving the inhabited part of the island far behind your backs. Since you knew him—for many, many years of friendship and relationship—your boyfriend was rather a cozy, if not lazy type, preferring guarding the ship over escapades and little local bars over campings deep in the forest. Given his clumsiness and Law’s overly anxious approach to his family, it was probably the best idea, to just not test his luck and warm old scars in the sun. Warmth and comfort are Rosinante’s style: oversized sweaters, scruff, messy, tad too long, hair and crow’s feet smiling at you whenever he sees you.

Sneaking out of Polar Tang at midnight, like teenagers, and rustling towards the unknown, brings out memories of the distant past, and raises questions. Your head is buzzing with curiosity, bubbling the more the deeper into the night he drags you.

He’s up to something.

The chosen place overlooks the whole bay, from the side opposite to the town you’ve docked by, its lights blinking on the horizon and melting into the sea. The seashore here mounts into cliffs, but the road wasn’t steep, leading you up gradually and without strain. No wonder the effect stuns you; you sink into the views in silence, gentle breeze messing with your hair and engulfing you with scent of the grass and forest.

“So, what do you think?” Rosinante embraces you from behind, crossing huge, warm hands over your chest and pulling you into his torso. You rest your head against his stomach: even when hunched forwards, he still towers over you with such ease. “Nice view, eh?”

‘Nice’ sounds nearly vulgar when used to describe what you see. The game of lights and water is already breathtaking, but when your gaze flicks up, your chest clenches almost painfully with admiration. The sky is perfect-clean, free of lights, free of moon, millions of stars gleaming right above your heads, so close yet, more distant than anything.

“How did you find this place? When—” You struggle to form thoughts into words, your tongue tied and stupid.

“I asked and listened here and there.” Laughter rumbling in Rosinante’s chest vibrates through your body. “Give old man a break. I still know how to grab a good spot.”

“Rosi, you’re not even forty yet…”

“But I have gray hair, see? He leans close, shamelessly pushing his shaggy head into your face. “Here, some new ones on the side.”

Humming with amusement, you cup his face and kiss him, still having to tiptoe to reach his lips. He tastes of herbal mouthwash and mint gum, a subtle explanation for the lack of cigarette smell and his trembling hands. A great sacrifice and even bigger urge to indulge with this opportunity, but you know well he didn’t lure you out of Polar Tang just to make out. It’s so hard to resist the temptation, but curiosity and respect for his efforts win over it. With a playful bite on his bottom lip you finish the kiss and let him guide you to the ground level.

Rosinante settles you comfy in his lap, keeping you away from the grass. You wouldn’t mind sitting next to him instead, but you can’t—and don’t want to—complain. It’s nice to be treated like a doll or plushie by him, the size difference between you two always provoking his endearing, protective side. You know better than anyone that this man has plenty of rough edges, but you find it only more pleasant to engulf in this contrast. There’s no way you would let his soft puppy moment go to waste because of some stupid whims.

“Should have brought a flask…” He mutters, resting chin on the top of your head. “Mulled wine or hot chocolate or…something. And sandwiches.”

You hum thoughtfully, already smiling, “You forgot.”

“I forgot. Everything’s left in the mess.”

Taking one of his hands between yours, you rub calming circles, then little hearts, on its back. His skin is rough and scarred; you know the net of cuts and burns by heart, every nook and crevice mapped in your mind. There’s one particularly weird on his ring finger, a thin line almost encircling it. You asked him once if it was left by a real ring, for him to just shrug and claim he didn’t remember. You didn’t press him, there was a part of his past Rosinante didn’t wish to recall, and you respected that. But still, you always gave a little extra attention to that scar when your fingers happened to find it on their way.

He’s never made a comment on your interest, but now he went silent, tense even, his hand starting to clench into a fist. You stop and try to release him, but as soon as your grasp eases, the other hand cups yours and presses them close, where they were.

“No, no, go on.” He encourages before going silent again, the tone of his voice different, lower and more silent, when he eventually speaks again. “Law is leaving North Blue.

“Oh, is that so.” You haven’t expected…that. Not the topic alone, you suspected it was going to happen sooner than later. But for Rosi taking an extra effort just to talk about it? “You won’t stop him?”

“As if I could have any influence on this stubborn mule.” Now he’s the one rubbing your hands. “He ain’t a kid anymore and got himself a strong crew. The Blues are too tight for rookies of this caliber.”

The characteristic twitch of his fingers tells you how much he needs to play with a cigarette between them. He’s more addicted to this playful, mindless move than to nicotine itself, always looking for it when nervous, uncertain or angry. Nothing could replace a cigarette for this ritual, he tried and always grew impatient, eventually snapping even faster than when he had nothing to toy with.

But this time he remains calm. And eventually finds a voice to speak, “But we are not pirates, Y/N.”

“We live with pirates,” you point, smirking. “For years.”

“Neither of us has a bounty. For the Navy we might be as well as non-existing.”

“Don’t tell me you want to enroll back.”

“I’m too old to play a dog, silly.” Rosinante laughs so hard you’re both shaking. “Thought of a full retirement. You know, a little house. A dog, maybe a cat, hell, maybe some chicken, let’s be generous. We would live from selling cigarettes and honey, cut out crosswords and our kids’ photos out of newspapers, and bitch together about how it was in our good times.”

“You make it sound as if we were both old and gray.” You nudge him with an elbow. “Stop adding me years, will you? You’re the one with white hair, not me.”

“Oh, now that’s rubbing salt into wounds. You’re breaking my poor heart.”

Rosinante hides face in the crook of your neck, his cheeks ticklish with scruff soon to become a beard. You tense, expecting a full-frontal attack of affection, but he just kisses you and nuzzles close up, squeezing you tight in his strong arms.

“I was serious about a house.” He speaks, his deep voice so close to your ear sending a small, involuntary shiver down your spine. “I saved enough to get us a comfy place. Maybe even here, if you like. And we would still have enough for a wedding ring.”

Oh.

The puzzles in your mind have already been moving into the right place, but now they click together at once, the realization rushing through your veins, your heart thumping so loud its beat nearly blocks any other sound. Is he being serious—

“I know this is sudden.” Rosinante sits straight, both of his hands cupping your face and guiding you to look right at him. “But if we ever… If you want me, if you want to… I just want Law to see before he leaves. Who knows when—if we ever—see him again. And he’s a captain, he could even do it for us himself.”

“Do you…” With your throat suddenly tight and dry you can barely speak. As if any words could get out of your spinning mind in the first place… “Rosi, do you…”

“Marry me, Y/N.”

A lump blocks your throat as you freeze on a thin line between laughing, crying and you’re not sure yourself what else. Strong emotions pull you into all directions at once as the man of your life gently traces your cheekbones with his thumbs, looking down at you with love, anxiety and yearning. His hands are trembling, not because of the nicotine craving anymore, you’re sure of it—because his touch is burning you the same way, to the core of your heart. Years of your shared love, the experience and ordinariness, are meaningless now, in the silence between his question and your answer.

“Yes. Of course, I will marry you.” You finally choke out just to be squished and silenced again, by his chest this time, as he enthusiastically pulls you close, his embrace so tight you seem melting into him.

You’re holding onto each other until the awkward pose forces you to move, half-asleep limbs tangled. You feel wetness on your cheeks and Rosinante’s make up is a bit smudged—so you both laugh at your watery state, wiping tears with sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you give me a ring?” You ask between giggles.

“The ring, yeah. Ring!” Rosinante reaches for the pocket in his pants, finds nothing but spare change and a pack of tissues. Growing pale, he frantically checks every pocket and nook of his clothes, even paws at the grass around. “Shit… Y/N, I think I left the ring with the rest of stuff.

You look at his awkward smile and cheeks turning scarlet red—and can’t help but laugh so much your voice echoes through the bay. How can you possibly not love this dumbass?

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #corazon x reader #corazon x you #corazon x y/n #bas writes #rosinante #gender neutral reader

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altschmerzes · 6 months

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☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

OH GOSH YEAH THERE IS it's called 'without grace, without understanding' (thanks wrinkle in time) and it's a reimagining of the training arc with roy and jamie in season 3

this got a little long so it is..... under a cut lsdfkjs.

update: 'a little long' this is basically a fic in itself lmfao WHOOPSIES. i guess i may as well actually tag it, enjoy... whatever this is.

started off with me thinking about the myriad of ways that could've been a fascinating plot to use to explore those two characters' trajectories and their relationship to themselves and each other and this sport. roy's lack of trust in himself and his conviction that he ruins things.

and it's like... thinking about how roy's approach is uh. a bit much sometimes and jamie particularly doesn't necessarily react super well to that and has a tendency to take things the wrong way even when they are well delivered, and thinking about roy's concerns this season about his coaching skills. that he's REALLY worried about being a good coach. and the stuff in season 2, where he was worried he was Ruining Phoebe somehow, just.

and there's the jamie of it all. him trying to hard to be better, to do better, not sure how to make it work. how to make it happen. how to be as good as zava, be better than zava. still trying to deserve the second chance he's been given. still a brat a lot of the time bc he is who he is but also trying so hard to be good. be cooperative. be a team player. Work Hard Enough.

so you get into the actual training of it, right. they're working together one on one, and roy is pushing him. hard. and i looked at that and went. okay this is supposed to be humorous but also what if we took it seriously. what if roy pushed him TOO hard and jamie just let him because he’d do basically whatever roy told him to and thinks he’s supposed to shut up and not whine and Be Good. and this somehow ends up pushing jamie so hard he’s just completely exhausted or hurt somehow and roy is absolutely horrified by this. and is like NOPE i cant do this i shouldn’t be doing this and doesn’t really communicate to jamie why he’s calling it off. he just does it. so jamie thinks he’s done something wrong and roy thinks he’s protecting jamie by (freaking out and) walking away and it’s a MESS they gotta sort out.

somewhere in there there's a thing with roy and the coaches or the diamond dogs as a whole, right. after he's walked away from training jamie one on one and their relationship is extremely strained bc roy is spiralling beyond proportion like Oh Fuck, Oh Gd, I Was Ruining Him, I Was Hurting Him and jamie is like He's Done With Me He Don't Want Fuck-All To Do With Me. so things are... weird. they're not really talking. they're both upset and hating it. but roy sort of. he doesn't stop coaching jamie again at all, but he does sort of. he pulls back. he goes stiff and distant and doesn't engage. he doesn't ice him out like in s2 but he's not. there. either.

and so they're talking and he's like. (in his mind the training is like. paused. they're Taking A Break.) but he's like. i need to talk to you about jamie. and the others are like... yeah, sure seems like it! and roy just admits. i don’t know how to train him. what i know how to do isn’t working. what worked on me isn’t working (ted/beard/someone voice maybe it perhaps Didn’t Work On You in a good way, but-) so What Do I Do.

which gives ted the opportunity to pay it forward with some advice and just - positive reinforcement. maybe try approaching this differently. he’s destroying himself trying to make you happy, make you proud, do good in your eyes. he idolizes you, not sure how AWARE of that you are, but he does. still. maybe try using that - tell him what he’s doing right.

(and that's the fuck of it all right is like. there's this part of roy that's been wondering if he's a bad coach for the opposite reason, too. he's been wondering if he's been too soft on jamie, and maybe that was the problem. it was something that was gnawing at him, before jamie worked himself sick/hurt and he realized his approach was massively backfiring, that like... maybe he was a bad coach because he couldn't be harsh enough. but he couldn't just. he couldn't stomach being like the coaches he'd had, he just couldn't do it. and then that happened, and obviously that wasn't it, but it was in there somewhere)

but so he talks a bit about that there, like, it comes up somehow - the coaches he had when he was young. when he was a kid and when he was coming up. he talks about how he was trained and they’re like right okay sure and how do you feel about those coaches now? how did they make you feel about yourself? is that how you want jamie to feel about you? is that how you want to know he feels when you talk to him?

he doesn't. he doesn't want jamie to feel like that about him, to feel like that when looking at him. because roy respected those coaches and wanted them to be impressed with him but he was afraid of them too. and he never thought for a minute that he ever lived up to their expectations. and fuck, gd, he never, ever wants that for jamie.

and that's the point ted and beard and company sort of gently make to him too like.

and so it's like. he trusts you. he looks up to you. he'd do anything you asked him to. that's good, that helps, but it means you gotta be careful too, y'know?

so he has to figure out a new approach. and it's like. roy doesn't need a personality transplant, don't get me wrong. he's never gonna be ted and he doesn't need to be. that's not the goal here. it's about figuring out how to be tough without being mean, right? and maybe a little about figuring out how to let himself soften.

(especially since half the time it’s his own younger self he’s hollering at imo. and so treating jamie better sort of asks him to realize he should’ve been treated better too. Be Kinder To Him And In Doing So Give Your Own 24 Year Old Self Some Gentleness And Grace.)

so roy offers to resume training with him after some other stuff happens etc, this is the part i have less thought through lmao.

(there's a subplot also with isaac and captain stuff and figuring out there's something up with jamie and not knowing what and trying to piece it together. love that too.)

and there's a scene in the end, right, where we get this whole... they've sorted things out, they're resuming training again, roy has extracted a promise from jamie to Speak The Fuck Up if things aren't going well, and he's promised to be less of a hardass generally, and then there's a bit where he like. apologizes for ever having been that hard on jamie in the first place and not thinking about whether that was the right approach.

and jamie just... he shrugs. he's not affected by this. "gotta make sure i don’t go soft, yeah?" and roy is like. no. absolutely not. stop right there.

which is when roy then makes the very specific point that like. when they talk about jamie’s performance on the pitch and how he should approach it sometimes he needs to be a prick, and he needs to worry about being permissive or passive or whatever else, but even if they have to bust out a thesaurus they will not be referring to him as soft. we will not be using that language here. do you understand me?

which... jamie. doesn't, really. he's like ??? and tries to brush it off at first like pshh that’s just the same thing “don’t want to be noncommittal or passive on the pitch ain’t that just the same thing as soft just more letters” and roy is like no. no it’s not. there’s implications in- in calling someone soft that there ain’t in there, and even if it is, so what. that’s a word that’s been used to hurt you. right? and jamie’s just kinda sullenly silent and roy goes right. which is why im not fucking using it. that’s the fucking point im trying to make here. if i can help it im not gonna fucking hurt you because i really don’t want to.

which y'know. is a lot. it's a lot for both of them. but they figure it out.

i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while tbh but keep being like no that’s excessive- that’s dramatic- whatever this arc is gonna turn into it doesn’t NEED to turn into an angsty character/dynamic study- but honestly who cares. why not have fun with it. why not get into some of the vast unexplored potential here. maybe one day i will.

#gav gab #gav answers #ask box games #MAY TRY TO WRITE THIS ONE DAY STILL IDK #jamie tartt #roy kent #abuse implied

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whumpster-fire · 4 months

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Rating the Overlords in Hazbin Hotel:

#10: Valentino. Bitch ass motherfucker supreme. I want him to die and I want it to hurt the whole time he is dying. Fucking scumbag. Also IDGAF if he's a moth I will always maintain the headcanon that the sleazy prick is a pubic louse.

#9: That one blue firey skeleton dude in the meeting who didn't say anything. Has literally no characterization.

#8: Zeezi (that one pink and green lady at the meeting): Has literally no characterization but that color scheme is eye bleeding and I'm here for it.

#7: Rosie. Man she's cool and all, helpful to Charlie, friends with Alastor, but she just doesn't capture my interest the way the others do. Being the overlord of cannibals is a really niche thing it seems like compared to being in control of major forces that are fucking up society, I have a feeling she maintains her position because (a) she's smart, and (b) the other overlords don't really want her domain because taking eating human flesh to the level of an obsession is kind of dweeb behavior.

#6: Velvette. Horrible cringe zoomer iPad kid (or Millennial, I don't know). I absolutely love the fact that she showed up at the meeting and literally everyone else in the room was like "What's with this sassy... lost child?" Has so much potential though for her character to embody the absolute worst of internet culture. Next season I want to see Velvette trolling, going "L + Block + Ratio," and doxxing random sinners and getting them killed for her own entertainment.

#5: Carmilla Carmine. Awesome. I like seeing people in hell who are still people and not obsessed with becoming the most cartoonishly evil motherfucker possible because "hey we're already in hell, might as well get crazy." People can have friends, family, etc. and still do shit that gets them sent to hell. I'm getting "was leader of an organized crime family in life" vibes. Also has vibes of being one of the less horrible overlords to work for because she's emotional stable enough to know that being cruel to your minions for fun is bad for morale.

#4: Husk. Okay he's a former overlord but let's say Overlord Emeritus. He has my respect as an overlord for dying in like the 70s but choosing an absolutely classic vice to make his domain: drinking and gambling. Also the timeline here implies he rose to power when Alastor was already around. I wonder if there was a power vacuum because Al killed the previous overlord of gambling?

#3: Vox. I hate his cringey techbro ass but in a "I want to put this man in a jar and shake it vigorously" way. The fact that he actually enjoys Valentino's company is a major minus though. I kind of wanted to see a strained business relationship where he dislikes Val immensely but works with him because sex sells and Val has the market cornered. Also his voice is kind of... generic. I was really hoping for him to have a Mid-Atlantic Accent but of a more "mid-century TV anchor" type to make it extra clear how much he wants to rip off / replace Alastor and as a part of him that isn't as hip and modern as Mr. Died In the 50s wants to present himself as.

#2: Zestial. Hello Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious. He is so fucking cool. I want so badly to believe that he and Alastor are genuinely friends and respect each other but also Alastor respects Zestial enough to want him to think he's cool, and when Zestial showed up Alastor internally panicked because of 'Oh shit my friend showed up while I'm being trailed by the lamest minions in hell, he's going to think they're mine this is so embarrassing!'

#1: Alastor. What a fucking guy. This man is being dragged kicking and screaming into character development and I am here for it.

#hazbin hotel #overlords (HH)#alastor hazbin hotel

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coraniaid · 3 months

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Hey, I was just wondering do you know if Dawn is ever brought up on Angel? Just asking cause I'm towards the end of s5 of Buffy/s2 of Angel and I've been headcanoning the whole time that Cordelia didn't get hit by the memory rewrite spell as a side effect of that vision hook up she's got with the Powers That Be and it just never comes up because why would it. Anyway just wondering if that's something that'll end up being disproven or just never addressed.

Also I guess like sideways ask what sorta memories/dynamics do you think got incepted of the Angel cast who would've known her? I like to think she'd think Cordelia is the coolest just because it'd annoy Buffy especially earlier on, I dunno if Wesley would've ever met her I can't remember if he even met Joyce. I also like to think she saw past Angel's brooding exterior and pegged him as the massive dork that he is and then obviously got her own share of Angelus trauma.

I don't know the later seasons of Angel as well as I know Buffy, but I do know that Dawn is mentioned on Angel at least once beause it happens in one of the rare episodes Faith is in! (In Season 4, when Angelus first hears that there's a Slayer in town he phones Buffy's house to check if it's her and we hear him say hi to Dawn on the other end of the line.)

I think that might be the first (or only) time Dawn gets brought up though (mainly because I don't think there's much mention of anyone on Buffy directly in S3 because the shows were now on different networks and they weren't sure how to deal with that). But as far as I know, Cordelia never mentions Dawn so I think your headcanon is probably safe.

For the other part of your ask:

Yeah, agreed on Cordelia: thematically, Dawn is Buffy's innocent childhood self and Cordelia is the cool and popular high school cheerleader we know that Buffy misses being in S1 and Dawn wishes she was in S7. I think the show suggests that Buffy and Dawn's relationship was less strained before she became a Slayer and Cordelia (especially S1 Cordelia) is who Buffy was before being the Slayer. So I think Dawn would naturally like her, and then (as we see with Glory a bit in Season 5, who Buffy explicitly compares to Cordelia), Dawn would delight in realizing she could annoy Buffy by suggesting that somebody she knew was cooler and prettier than her. (And Cordelia, in turn, would certainly appreciate being flattered and -- as we see her talk about Joyce in School Hard -- would equally delight in praising Dawn at Buffy's expense.)

I don't think Wesley does ever meet Joyce but I assume by Season 3 Dawn was sneaking off to Scooby Gang meetings with Buffy in the library at least some of the time (who was looking after Dawn when Joyce was away buying things for the art gallery?), so she probably did run into Wesley once or twice. Since I think Dawn would have been a huge fan of Faith on first meeting her and that she'd copy Buffy in blaming Wesley for how things went down in Consequences I don't think she'd be particularly happy to meet him. And I don't think S3 Wesley would have had the slightest clue how to talk to a pre-teen girl who visibly hates him and keeps telling him to leave Cordelia alone.

I think pre-Angelus Dawn would have bullied Angel mercilessly once she realized she could (if she was the one who walked in on him holding Mr Gordo, for example). And yes -- if Angelus was going after Joyce and Willow he'd definitely have tried to hurt Dawn too, and she would not be quick to forgive him (if she knew about it, she'd definitely be on Xander and Faith's side in Revelations). I think part of the reason she gets on so well with Spike in Season 5 is that she has lots of stories about embarrasing things Angel did or said that only she and Buffy were around to witness.

#btvs #ats #asks #thanks

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altruistic-meme · 2 months

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Okay i was originally going to try to make a nice and neat little post about heartstopper and some of my thoughts, as well as a separate post about what i like about the comics vs. the tv show.

Uh. So. I can’t actually corral my thoughts to be coherent enough for that, so here are some various assorted thoughts about it all instead <3 put under a cut bc it is long and rambley and a mess

[spoiler warning for the comics if you haven't read them]

Idk what it is, but I love comic Charlie a LOT. Like. A LOT a lot. There is just something about his character in the comics, his banter, the way he behaves that I love so much more in the comics than the show. I feel almost like the characters aren’t quite the same person, though I do love them both. I just connected so much more with comic Charlie.

Semi-related but I also feel like we get a much more clear picture of his OCD and the attached anxieties in the comics.

HMMM okay or maybe not. Idk. I think maybe we can see more of Charlie’s OCD in the show through his desire to make everything easy and perfect for Nick, even when it hurts him too.

He’s popular in the comics!!! It’s mentioned multiple times by other characters that Charlie is popular at school!!! And I think that’s actually a really interesting look at his character. He was bullied for most of y9 and yet the rugby lads think he’s a popular kid in y10. Despite this, we don’t actually see Charlie interacting with basically anyone but the other main characters, and I think that kind of reflects how Charlie views himself. On the way back from Paris, he asks Nick “does this mean I’m a cool kid now?” he doesn’t think people see him as cool but like I said, other characters have said he’s popular. They must have gotten that idea from SOMEWHERE right? But Charlie’s own poor self-esteem means he still doesn’t actually believe he’s cool or that people like him. I don’t know if there was a point to this rant but. Charlie is a popular boy.

I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE KIDS WHO STOPPED THE BULLYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, in the comics Charlie really is a nerd in a way he isn’t in the show. He helps Nick with his math and yells at him for distracting him from his homework. I get why this change happened in the show–it gives us a better idea of the strained relationship that Charlie has with his mom while also showing us that his dad tries to support him but often fails–but I really like it in the comics because Nick calls him a nerd but it’s less obvious in the show how nerdy he really is.

That said obviously I also ADORE getting to explore the other characters and their lives and everything in the show. I love getting to see more of them. (But I also love how we DON’T always get all the information in the comics, but that’s just because I love when there are background stories happening that we don’t see through the main storyline. This event/love is not unique to Heartstopper)

I love Imogen!!! I really like that it’s showing her as someone who is sort trying to become friends with the group and that isn’t always a fast or easy process. She goes to the sleepover with them and she hangs out with them in Paris, but she’s doesn’t leave Prom with them or anything. Also, I love the possibility that she is discovering that she’s queer too!! And that her halfway joining of their friend group leads to her discovering herself bc i feel like that’s so true to real life.

I am so curious about the Isaac vs. Aled thing and I wonder if Aled will appear in one of the later seasons, or if he is just not in the show at all. And Isaac! I assume he’s in some extra content I haven’t seen? Don’t get me wrong ofc, I love Isaac and his storyline is SO SO IMPORTANT as someone who is asexual myself. I am so glad that there is the representation of someone discovering that they’re aroace. I do assume that’s part of the reason for him being the 4th friend as opposed to Aled? Idk.

I’M SO SAD ABOUT OLIVER BEING COMPLETELY OMITTED FROM THE SHOW!!! I assume there is an interview or something where Alice Oseman explains why Oliver wasn’t in the show, but I haven’t seen it and rn I will simply cry about it. I love him and I wish he had been included.

I am also SO CURIOUS how the rest of the show will look!! I know that I read somewhere that s3 should be the contents of book 4, and that s4/s5 if they get them would be books 5/6 respectively. And I’m so intrigued. Because book 4 is the heaviest of them all so far, and I wonder how it will be translated to the screen. Especially the Sept-Dec timeskip! Will we see that time, especially considering the other character’s storylines??? This wasn’t an issue in the comics since they focus solely on Nick/Charlie, but with all of the other characters it would be more difficult to just skip that whole time. Will it just be a summary of events like in the comics, with flashes to what has happened? Or will we get a more explicit idea of everything?? (probably not including Charlie’s sh relapses or the night in October, but maybe the This Winter content???) i am SO excited for October though so all my questions can be answered :’)

OH something that was super interesting to me was a very small change in dialogue during the scene where Charlie first tells Nick about his sh. In the show, when Nick asks if he still does it Charlie just says “No.” but in the comics he says “No! I mean- hardly ever” and it’s such a small change but it speaks volumes too in the difference between the comic and the show. I’m not really sure what it’s saying though. Was show Charlie just more consistently in a better place where he feels like it’s stopped and won’t happen again? Was comic Charlie just more honest in this moment in acknowledging that it has still happened since? I’m not sure!!! But i’ve spent WAYYY too much time thinking about this one tiny change in dialogue!!!

Another thing is like, I really liked how the comics handled Nick’s dad. Them not meeting in Paris and then him missing Nick’s birthday. It really hits hard exactly how negligent he is, and it gives space for Charlie to be there for Nick when he’s upset. I do like how it went in the show as well, because it does still get everything across beautifully, but idk. I think mostly I’m just remembering the shot of Nick opening the door to greet Charlie on his birthday looking heartbroken and upset about his dad canceling and how hard that hit when i first read it. (keep in mind that i watched the show before reading the comics, so i was surprised at first to learn that they didn’t meet up in Paris! Let alone that he missed Nick’s birthday TOO!!)

Okay I think that’s it for right now. I have largely been spinning comic Charlie in the microwave in my mind bc OUGH i relate to him too much. I will probably come back at some point with more thoughts, but until then. Hope you enjoyed my brief insanity.

#heartstopper #heartstopper comic #heartstopper netflix #shh ac

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toodelusionalforreality · 25 days

Text

Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]