#spoilers the same people live in both houses

[adurna0]

An observation of this webbed site

[sandymybeloved]

I don't know why the blue front door in the episode stuck out to me so much and made me think of amy and her and rory's blue front so hard, much as a I amy she not a companion I think about a lot about, and really both time that blue door is supposed to evoke tardis mor than anything. maybe because the house was also terraced idk

[heartsforhavik]

mk1 men x reader hcs (fanfic tropes edition)

pairings: havik, johnny cage, kung lao, raiden, rain, syzoth, shang tsung, smoke x reader (all separate)

warnings: slight angst in havik’s bc his past is damn sad. slight gore in shang tsung’s. slight spoilers for mk1 story mode. reader is gender neutral in all.

summary: sfw headcanons of you and the mk1 men but with common fanfic tropes (only one bed, coffee shop, enemies to lovers, etc)

a/n: this. took. 6 hours. i was gonna put baraka, reiko, liu kang, and bi-han, but they didn’t make the cut lol. also if anyone wants, i can turn any of these into full fics. all u gotta do is request it!!

havik: only one bed

- you and havik were very close. you knew each other pretty well, but that’s about it. you were never more than friends, even if you wish you were. even if your banter together suggests to be more than friends, you usually assume it’s just a joke.

- until you both had to take shelter in an abandoned house. you were on the run, trying to escape the soldiers in sun do chasing you both down.

- what you didn’t know was that there was only one bed inside.

- “you may rest on the bed. i can just rest on the floor or keep watch.” havik offered.

- “no, you deserve rest too. we’ve had a long day. you should sleep.” you told him.

- havik sighed. “there is no point in arguing. perhaps we can share?”

- the idea made you a bit flustered, but you were not against it one bit. you found havik attractive, and you respected him like he respected you. but the idea of sharing the same bed is so… intimate. it’s like he trusted you enough to be beside you while he slept. it was flattering.

- you agreed to his offer, and crawled to opposite sides of the bed. he had his back turned to you, and you could clearly see his back muscles and his biceps in the dim light crawling through the window. thank god the moon was bright, so you can clearly look at him.

- you were so close. it was almost embarrassing how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you were basically ogling at him while he slept.

- but you snapped out of it and you slowly succumbed to sleep, not knowing havik was awake the whole time.

- havik tossed and turned, he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt comfortable enough to be next to him while you slept. you’re so vulnerable. you looked so peaceful and delicate while you slept. usually he’d refuse to go to sleep since he doesn’t really need to, but he wanted to take the opportunity to be close to you.

- he’s a stubborn guy, always wanting revenge for his past in seido. he’s bitter. he’s angry. he wants freedom for other seidans like him. he craves liberation and to bless others lives with anarchy. but it’s in times like these when he can finally relax. when he can just sigh in contentment, and sit next to you as you slept.

- you looked so happy as his ally, having the freedom to do what you want. havik sees you as a symbol of what life can look like for others. surely if you’re happy and free, other people can be too?

- he also knew he had feelings for you. he tried to push them away and pretend you were just allies, because he wants to focus on his pursuit to liberation. but someday.. someday when he achieves said liberation… he’ll confess his feelings. someday, havik will finally feel safe enough to be vulnerable with someone for the first time after years of being a slave. and if he had to be vulnerable with anyone in all the realms, it’d be you. someday.

johnny cage: fake relationship

- you were a famous actor. you weren’t incredibly famous or anything, but you were definitely well-known.

- one day at another actor’s party, you happened to meet johnny cage.

- “did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” johnny flirted, giving you a wink.

- you both got along for a few hours, laughing and talking as if you were old friends. you even gave him your number with no hesitation.

- but what you didn’t know was that somebody took photos of you two and posted them online. and the internet started assuming you were a couple because of how happy you both looked.

- your names were trending on twitter and fans everywhere were hoping you were a real couple.

- then, johnny himself texted you, proposing that you both went along with it and pretended to be a couple. you agreed, of course.

- so for the next few weeks, you both went to visit each other frequently and got ‘caught’ by the paparazzi many times. pictures and videos of you two were everywhere. you and johnny had lots of fun together going through the edits and fan accounts that were already made.

- but, you were secretly really enjoying the ‘fake’ relationship you two had. you actually wanted him for real. you didn’t know that he was doing the same.

- you found out one day when you were at his mansion for the thousandth time. he took a quick bathroom break and you wanted to scare him when he came back, so you hid somewhere he couldn’t see you. but you happened to overhear a phone call between him and his friend.

- “i’m telling you kenshi, this one is special. i really like them. a lot. i don’t think i want our relationship to be fake anymore. they’re just so understanding, and fun, and hot! but i don’t know. i don’t know if they like me too.” johnny admitted over a call.

- you were shocked. he actually had feelings for you too. you immediately came out of your hiding spot and confronted him.

- “oh shit. you heard that?!” johnny cursed.

- but his panic died down as soon as you admitted your feelings too. neither of you admitted your relationship was fake at first, but neither of you cared about the media anymore. because your love is real and genuine now.

kung lao: coffee shop au

- there was a coffee shop you owned and worked at in your village.

- it was pretty successful, and you got quite a few customers every day. it wasn’t too exciting though. at least until kung lao walked in for the first time.

- he was immediately attracted to you at first sight.

- he and raiden had to find a different place to rest at after work that day, since madam bo’s was temporarily closed.

- kung lao walked inside, not expecting anything exciting. until he saw you behind the counter. your eyes sparkled and your smile grew when you greeted him and raiden, offering them a seat and asking them what they wanted to order. he couldn’t even think straight. he was so lost in your eyes.

- “what can i get you two?”

- “uh. um. uhhh… i’d like uh…. coffee?”

- “what kind?” you sweetly asked.

- “coffee.” he blurted.

- you didn’t know he liked you, you honestly thought he was just indecisive. you were very patient with him though, since you thought he was cute.

- raiden instantly saw how kung lao was speechless at the sight of you, and teased his friend about it.

- “you like them, huh?”

- “what? psh, no.. maybe… so?”

- raiden came up to you while you were making the coffee, and let you know about his friend’s interest.

- “i think kung lao has a bit of an interest in you… but you didn’t hear it from me!” raiden whispered.

- the cute guy in your shop had an interest in you? yeah, sure. you didn’t really believe him. but a part of you hoped it was true.

- kung lao took his sweet time in the shop, and stayed for hours before it closed. even after raiden left, he still stayed just to talk to you. he kept ordering coffee over and over so he had an excuse to stay.

- before it closed, you asked him how the coffee was. clearly he really liked it because of how much he ordered it, right?

- “actually… i’m not a fan of coffee. i just wanted to talk to you.” kung lao admitted.

- thankfully, his efforts did not go to waste. he left the shop with a big smile on his face and a napkin with your number on it. he was definitely going to visit the shop every day now.

- oh and also, he kept that napkin. even years into your relationship, he never threw it away.

raiden: childhood friends to lovers

- you and raiden were friends since you were children. you used to run around the fields of your village together and play games without a care in the world.

- you both remained friends all the way to adulthood, even though you didn’t get to talk often since you had moved away and you wrote letters to one another every now and then. but you decided to move back home one day.

- upon seeing how you look now, he was pleasantly surprised. you looked absolutely amazing.

- you decided to catch up with one another, still getting along and sharing stories and memories you had with each other. it’s almost as if you never left. you were even meeting up every day.

- “it’s almost as if you never left. you know, you look amazing.” raiden complimented.

- “thanks, raiden. you look great too! especially when you come back from a long day in the fields, i can clearly see some muscle there. you put in a lot of work, huh?” you teased, making him blush.

- “well, uh, i do my best. i know what i do makes the village thrive. but.. i didn’t know you noticed. and i didn’t know you were looking at my uh, muscles.” he replied, slightly exposing you.

- that pretty much continued for a few weeks, as you both were slightly flirting but neither of you actually made the first move. but one day, raiden finally gained the courage to confess to you.

- he woke up early that morning to freshen himself up and give himself a pep talk in front of his bathroom mirror.

- “okay, you can do this raiden. just tell them how you feel. can’t be that hard…” he told himself.

- he rushed to buy goods and some candy for you, preparing a basket full of it. he was ready to confess his feelings to you.

- he showed up at your doorstep, and raiden was thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. maybe you were in a bad mood? maybe he bought too much candy? was he shaking? did his hair look nice?

- “raiden? what’s up?” you asked, answering the door.

- “listen, i uh.. i like you. a lot. i really enjoyed being your friend all these years, but i fell in love with you over these past few weeks. i couldn’t stop thinking of you pretty much every day, it was like i was put under a spell. but i suppose, in a way, i was. you have bewitched me body and soul. i haven’t felt this way for anyone before.” raiden admitted.

- he kind of rambled a bit, but you understood exactly what he meant. you felt the same way.

- raiden was extremely relieved that you reciprocated his feelings. you both went on to have a happy, safe relationship. you wouldn’t change it for the world.

rain: rivals to lovers

- rain was a mage. and so were you.

- however, he mastered the ways of water. you mastered fire. they don’t go together.

- “my water will put out your flames.” rain threatened.

- “oh no, a splash of water, i’m so scared.” you replied sarcastically.

- you both tried to one-up the other every time you saw each other, refusing to show weakness. you couldn’t even be in a room together without staring each other down the whole time.

- the longer you were rivals, the more tension there was between you. other people even assumed you were dating already.

- you both wanted to be the most powerful mage in outworld. you just couldn’t agree on anything. he was so annoying, wasn’t he? and the way he would stare at you at every chance he got. the way he always had his full attention on you. even the way he was so dedicated to arguing with you for months.

- until you two finally sparred together.

- “i am tired of you. please shut up.” rain groaned.

- “make me.” you threatened.

- “oh, i will.”

- then, you both ended up fighting for hours. it was an even match. neither of you wished to give up, but you were tired of fighting.

- “listen, rain.. i think we should just admit it’s a tie…” you said, panting between words.

- “you think?” rain sighed, as you both finally stopped fighting.

- you both took a moment to sit down and regain your energy in silence. comfortable silence.

- something was probably in the air, because you were suddenly not fighting. neither verbally nor physically. just.. enjoying each other’s company for the first time in months.

- “you’re… very strong.” rain mumbled.

- “oh? what was that? can you repeat that for me? i don’t think i heard you very clearly…” you teased.

- he rolled his eyes. “you heard me loud and clear.”

- you laughed. “yeah, i did. thanks, zeffeero. you’re pretty strong too. to be honest, i was kind of nervous for this fight. i know we always argue, but i still admire your skills… i guess.” you admitted.

- his eyes widened in surprise. “oh… thank you. i always admired your skills as well. your pyromancy is extremely impressive. perhaps…” he put a finger to his chin. “we should train together instead of fighting.”

- you agreed to his offer and you started frequently sparring together in a friendly way. you even ended up confessing to one another after a few weeks of friendliness, and becoming a powerful couple. you’re both grateful for your rivalry in the beginning, because you have already seen the worst of each other. now, you can see only the good parts in one another.

syzoth: forbidden love

- you were royalty and you were ordered to marry other royalty or at least rich

- when you met syzoth, you immediately fell in love

- “are you sure you want *me,* your highness? i mean, i could never distract you from the throne..” syzoth asked, always feeling insecure.

- “nonsense, syzoth.” you comforted. “i truly love you. i don’t care if you aren’t royalty.”

- but the more you spent time with him, the more terrible you felt, knowing you couldn’t marry him

- but at the same time… it felt so fun. sneaking him inside the palace and trying not to get caught. cuddling in bed at night and talking quietly so you won’t be heard. syzoth turning invisible anytime you heard guards nearby. the thrill of it just made your romance more fun.

- until you *actually* got caught. that wasn’t fun.

- your name was dragged through dirt for being in love with a zaterran. you were shunned from your family. but that didn’t stop you from being with him.

- “your highness, please, don’t risk the throne for me. you shouldn’t be seen with me anymore. i do not wish to make you suffer.” syzoth begged. he didn’t want to leave you, but he didn’t want to see your life fall apart because of him.

- “i don’t care. you make me so happy, syzoth. you love me for who i am, and i do the same for you. i have no problems with giving up my status for you. besides, you aren’t ruining my life. you’re making it so much better.” you reassured.

- but it turns out, you got to keep your throne. you threatened to leave your palace and give up your royalty, but your family didn’t want that. so they reluctantly let you have syzoth as your consort, even though half of the kingdom wasn’t very pleased with that. you didn’t care. you were just glad you don’t have to keep your lover a secret anymore.

shang tsung: partners in crime (it’s not rlly a trope but who cares)

- shang tsung ? dedicated to someone and working alongside them ? what is this sorcery…

- it’s self explanatory. you and him are just a power couple. you fight alongside one another and you help him come up with plans.

- anytime one of you gets in trouble, the other helps. you’re just two troublemaking lovers bent on destroying the people around you. it’s a surprisingly healthy relationship considering the fact that you both ruin lives and kill people daily.

- shang tsung is devoted to you. he would kill for you without hesitation. and he expects the same from you. he sees you as his equal and he expects you to always be there for him and support his decisions, no matter how twisted they are. he does listen to your input and opinions, but that doesn’t mean he takes orders from you.

- oh remember how you both kill people together? he loves your strength. he loves how you look when you kill people. all his favorite memories with you are when you kiss while standing on the dead bodies of his enemies.

- “darling, you look absolutely ravishing. but must you be so messy?” shang tsung asks, pointing at your blood-stained clothes.

- “thank you, my love. i know i was a bit messy, but don’t you think it’s a representation of our hard work? our art?” you reason.

- shang tsung smiled at your explanation. “you have a point. you’ve always been so good at winning me over.”

- even when he was almost locked up outworld. if it wasn’t for you, he probably would’ve been executed.

- you noticed he never came home one day, and you knew something was up, you felt it in your gut.

- you went around outworld, specifically sun do. you wore a disguise and simply walked around, hoping someone would mention seeing him. considering the fact that you and him are both very recognizable faces in outworld, someone must’ve seen him.

- “did you hear shang tsung is finally lock up in sun do’s prisons?” you hear a merchant say.

- in prison? he got caught? whatever, you can lecture shang tsung later. you had to save him first.

- you broke into the prison at night, knocking out every umgadi soldier you saw. they definitely will try to find you when they wake up, but that didn’t matter to you. all that mattered to you at the moment was that you had to free your lover.

- “amazing work, darling.” shang tsung praised, as soon as he saw you in front of his cell.

- “praise me later, i’ll break you out now.” you whispered, hoping no other umgadi showed up.

- you both ran out the palace, not caring about whatever destruction you caused in the process of escaping.

- that whole scenario happens at least once every few months now. you always have to save his ass every time shang tsung gets put in a jail. in return, he grants you freedom and his love. he hopes someday he can rule the realms with you by his side as his consort.

- for now, he must be patient. his dream will come true someday, but for now, he is content with always being on the run with you. living a couple years of crime with his beloved doesn’t bother him one bit.

smoke: grumpy x sunshine

- smoke is not a completely soft, happy-go-lucky guy. he is a brave fighter that puts his strength and energy into the shirai ryu. however, he’s still extremely kind to his loved ones.

- when he met you, he was confused about your cold, almost angry exterior. it almost gave him flashbacks to the way bi-han treated him when he was a child.

- thankfully, you weren’t that bad. you weren’t mean, just distant and occasionally emotionless. smoke made it his personal mission to help you prove yourself non-intimidating now that you were a couple. especially because you were very soft in private.

- people were usually confused when they found out you two were together. how can someone as kind as tomas choose to be with you? you’re total opposites.

- he always defended you from your doubters. he gets annoyed when someone puts your name in their mouths. if only they understood you. if only they put in the effort to get to know you, they’d understand.

- but you reassured him that you can’t control what other people think. he knows you’re right, but he still can’t help but wish other people would stop judging you just because you ‘look’ mean.

- “i just wish they would see you for who you are. i know you aren’t rude. you’re just.. a bit distant.” smoke sighed.

- “don’t stress about it, tomas.” you reassured, running your fingers through his hair. “i appreciate that you defend me all the time, but it’s kind of my fault. you don’t need to apologize for how i act.”

- however, smoke now has scary dog privileges. (it’s you you’re the scary dog)

- anytime a random person comes up and flirts with him, they see your death stare behind him and immediately run away. even if you aren’t doing it on purpose.

- anytime someone tries to use him for his kindness, you shut them down and defend him. but it’s not that smoke *needs* defending. he’s strong enough, but you still like to step in and defend him just like he defends you.

- he appreciates that you look out for him just like he does for you. you both love each other very much, and he accepts you for who you are. he doesn’t judge you for struggling to express emotions, and he learned to read your emotions in smaller gestures like your body language and your eyes. you are his love, his treasure, his beloved. he just wants you to be happy and safe, no matter what other people say about your relationship.

[druigs-wife]

IN AMADO || NAMOR X FEM!READER

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE || ONE SHOT

summary: after months of separation, namor visits and shows you how important you are to him.

warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, penetration (mxf), oral (f&m receiving), slight angst, wakanda forever spoilers

word count: 2.2K

A/N: translations: in yakunaj ~ my love, in lool ~ my flower, in reina ~ my queen, in amado ~ my beloved

Every six months you and Namor meet on the beach nearby your house. It was already your tradition. No matter how much he wants you to come and live with him in his kingdom and be his only, it wasn't possible.

Yesterday he didn't show up for unknown reasons, as you two had agreed half a year earlier. You did the same as the day before, you sat down on the soft sand in the light of the full moon and patiently waited for your beloved one to come to the surface. Seconds, minutes and hours passed. It was midnight and there was no sign of him. He was never so late. Something must have happened. What if he was hurt in some way? What if you won't see him again? With those dark thoughts a single tear ran down your cheek, but you wiped it immediatly. He could give at least some sign that he is okay, that he is safe and that he still loves you. Why didn't he do that?

It was getting colder on the beach. The waves in the Atlantic Ocean were getting bigger and the wind stronger, sweeping your hair back. Your body started shaking but you were stubborn. This time, you won't let go and keep waiting, even until the dawn. You got up from the ground and started walking towards the cabin where you lived to take a blanket with you back to the beach to cover yourself and warm up. However, as you turned your back to the ocean, you heard a familiar and calm voice.

"In yakunaj, wait..." you immediately turned towards him and looked into his cholocate eyes. At a distance, you could sense that he felt guilty.

Without overthinking, you started walking faster towards him. Thanks to his wings he reached the sand and opened his arms where you found yourself a moment later. He could only hug you even tighter so that you wouldn't be able to run away from him.

"I thought something happened to you. I was losing my mind." you got out of his grip and cupped his wet cheeks in your hands. Your gaze traveled all over his face, but you couldn't find a single scratch. Namor just remained silent and watched you. "You should have let me know you weren't coming, give me a sign, anything." you started shivering more from the cold, he noticed it and started rubbing your arms to keep you warm. "I was worried."

Namor was acting differently than usual, as if something was bothering him. He looked at you with great sadness and regret, but also love and care. You've known each other long enough that you could tell when something was wrong.

"(Y/N) you need to warm up, you're trembling." you nodded slightly, he put his arm around you, and you went home together.

You sat on the wooden floor by the fireplace covered with a blanket and stared at the bright flames. A few moments later, you were awakened from your trance by the sound of creaking panels. Namor joined you, holding cups of something to drink in both hands. He brought you hot tea and for himself only water. He sat down next to you that your bare knees were touching. For the next hour he explained exactly why he hadn't visited you yesterday. The whole world can learn about the existence of the Talokan. You knew how much his kingdom and his people meant to him. Everything. So you weren't surprised what next steps your beloved one would have to make to keep it all a secret from the greedy world.

"Tomorrow morning I will sail to Wakanda with my entire army and put an end to this war." you stared at the already empty cup while listening carefully to what Namor had to say. "I can't let anything happen to Talokan..." he took the cup from you, put it on the ground next to him and wraped your palms together "...and I can't let anything happen to you." you looked at him and a small smile appeared on your face.

"I'm not a threat to them, they don't even know I exist, do they?" he nodded slightly, "So what are you afraid of, in amado?" he smiled gently at the nickname. Only you could call him like that. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"I'm afraid that through this stupid war I might lose you, that they can take you away from me, just as I took their queen from them." you sighed heavily amd closed your eyes, leaned a little forward that your foreheads touched.

"And what about you, hmm? Will you come back to me safe and sound? Nobody knows about us... I won't know if you survived or not." you said. You didn't get any answer for the next few moments. All Namor did was leaned back and placed a kiss on your forehead and then on your temple. He put his arm around you and came closer to you than before.

"I give you my word, when I am done with this, I will come to you as soon as I can." Namor gave a few more kisses against your temple. "But if... if anything happens to me, you'll find out just as quickly. You have my word in reina." you looked deep in his eyes. His promise was everything to you at this point.

You finally decided to get closer to him. The tips of your noses touched gently, and your lips was only inches apart. Finally Namor brushed yours hungrily but tenderly. You felt like you hadn't seen each other in ages. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his various necklaces. He, on the other hand, began to run his hands over your hips, waist and higher. As the kiss grew more passionate, you pulled away from him to catch your breath.

"Will you stay with me?" you whispered in his ear and brushed it lightly with your lips. The very gesture made Namor shudder. It was his sensitive point. Taking the opportunity that your neck was more exposed, he didn't waste a single moment and started peppering her with kisses, leaving tiny hickeys on it.

"Only if you want it." your foreheads and eyes meet again. You both were breathing hard. "Do you want me to stay?" you nodded immediately. "I need words in lool." before you spoke, you touched his left ear with your fingertips, then slowly took off his earring and set it on the floor. You did the same on the right side and put your hands on his chest keeping eye contact.

"Stay. Stay with me." Namor smirked broadly and kissed you lovingly, but you quickly broke this gesture because you wanted to get rid of the rest of the jewelry that he didn't need at the moment. With slow movements you removed the necklace after the necklace from his neck. He just watched your every single move carefully. Next were the arms, one jewelry on each of his biceps and on both forearms. You had to move away from him a bit to be able to take off the next ones on his calves "accidentally" touching the wings at his feet. They were also his sweet spot. Namor groaned softly at the contact. He needed you. Right now.

He rose a little and grasped your thighs tightly to be able to lift you up from the floor. Once he was standing on his feet, you wrapped your legs around him on the way to the bedroom. Namor kissing you passionately placed you carefully on the edge of the bed. This time it was he who took the initiative. He began to remove parts of your clothes from you, revealing more and more of your skin. You only stayed in your panties. Without taking his eyes off you, he got up from the bed to take off the last parts of his clothes. He threw his belt and shorts on the floor, freeing his cock and climbed on you again. He kissed your neck and sucked it alternately covering it with hickeys. For a few seconds you felt his cock brush against your thigh. With every second he was getting lower and lower. After a few moments, his lips were on your breasts, he worshiped every inch of your body. He started caressing your nipples, making circles around them with his tongue and sucking them as well. You were already a moaning mess, but you still wanted more. You wanted more of him.

You ran one hand through his black hair, and the other you placed on his shoulder and dug your nails lightly into him. He moaned against your breasts and began to go down. He placed wet kisses on your belly, until he finally reached your thighs. He adores them, so he also left a few hickeys and love bites on them. He looked up at you.

He reached for the fabric of your panties with his fingertips, they were already wet. Namor was waiting for your permission.

"Please..." you moaned softly. With one smooth movement, he pulled the last part of your clothing off you and your whole beautiful body appeared in front of him. Namor was enjoying this view as well as the first time he saw you in all your glory.

"May I?" he asked politely being inches from your folds, putting one leg over his shoulder for better access to your entrance. You felt his warm breath against your skin.

"Yes, in amado. Make love to me, please." at these words Namor immediately began to lick the wetness from your folds, teasing your clit with his nose. You rolled your eyes back at the sensation and lay down completely on the freshly laundered sheets as he dived deeper into your pussy while he was on his knees.

You missed this and couldn't wait to suck his dick until he goes wild. You groaned loudly as his tongue was slightly higher on your wet and aching clit. You were so close, but you wanted this moment last forever, so you tense your muscles and dug your nails into his hair. Namor brought his free hand to his mouth and dipped two fingers in his saliva, then sliding them inside of your pussy. When he felt that you're close, he began to curl them in your sweet spot, to which you replied with more uncontrollable moans of pleasure.

"Cum for me in yakunaj, let me feel you" at his filthy words you came so hard that you arched your spine and your body was shaking with the pleasure your beloved just gave you. When he cleaned your folds, he climbed on top of you and placed a long kiss on your lips. You could feel your own taste. Namor pulled away from you and then you touched his cock and started pumping it slowly.

"Let me worship you, my king." taking the opportunity that he didn't pay enough attencion, you turned the both of you that he was now on his back and you were on top. You did exactly what he did to you. "K'uk'ulkan..." you sighed marking every inch of his body, you slide lower and lower until your mouth was on the tip of his cock. You took it in your hand pumping, licked off his leaking precum and sucked gently on the tip. He propped himself up with his hands so he could see what you were doing to him. He groaned softly and closed his eyes with the excess of pleasure. Namor put his hand on your head and started fucking your mouth. At first he kept the pace that you set, but with each passing second he was closer and his thrusts became faster. When he felt that he was about to spill his cum inside your mouth, he stopped his movements as well as you.

"Up, in reina. Up." you did as he told you to. You stood up and pressed your lips together in a passionate kiss. Namor moved you with his arms to make you sit on him. You've been waiting for this moment for a long time. His wings began to flutter, brushing against your bare skin. You touched one with your fingers and Namor let out an innocent groan. You weren't admitting the thought that you might lose him. He directed his cock towards your entrance and in one move he was inside you. You both moaned loudly. You wrapped your arms around him, and he took your nipples in his mouth again and savor them while thrusting his cock against your g spot.

When Namor was making love to you, it felt like it was your first and at the same last time. He was rediscovering your body, every inch of your soft skin, your reactions to his actions, and your beautiful sounds again. Everything was perfect.

You have never believed in what the other people have said about him in legends, because what he is like right now, in your arms, fascinated by all of you, is a complete opposite of what is said in all those fairytales.

When you both reached your climaxes, you lay down on the bed together, Namor wrapped his arm around you tightly, and you put your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. Until you both fell asleep in each others arms, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and rubbed your nude and soft shoulders.

"In k'áatech, in yaakunaj.

Teech le in yóok'ol kaaba'."

"I love you, my love. You are my whole world."

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[whereflowerswenttodie]

prologue.

houses without fathers seldom count for happy endings

[ft. gojo satoru] [angst]

you are both six when you meet satoru, megumi is six when he brings the boy and his sister to you for the first time, and it’s 6:00 pm on a mundane evening when satoru says goodbye to you.

content warning: child abuse, female reader, abandonment, implied infidelity (for minor characters), fear of commitment, religious themes, deaths, heavy angst, gojo being a huge idiot.

spoilers: jjk vol. 0 & gojo’s past arc.

series masterlist | next chapter

You write your poems in red ink, you have always used red ink, and he asks you why red every-time you ask him to buy you access ink on his way back home before he steps out in the morning to go to work.

You smile and tell him just because.

Red looks pretty, you think. Red is also the color of the blood that flows in your veins. You like red.

You and Gojo Satoru share a routine like you share your bed, neither of you has ever agreed to it, but living together came to you as naturally as light through stained glass; the different shades made it look more beautiful than it was. You are both products of your own failures, and of those who came before you. You think in another world you and Satoru could have made for more than a routine — a balanced morning and another balanced night — in another life Satoru would bring home red roses, not red ink like you ask of him. You wonder if you’d write your poems with love in some other life. And you think a lot, and wish for much more.

You know, you daydream by the window of his room; you find home in his sky-high apartment more than in your own. You suppose you must be in love, but you don’t know what love is supposed to feel like because nobody has loved you before. He tells you he loves you most nights. Some nights he is not home. Some nights, there is a faint, putrid scent of blood on his otherwise white shirt that gets red patches on it. He tells you not to worry about it, but you think you know better because most nights your mother fretted by the old coffee-stained couch in your living room while you cried in your bed. But you nod to him because he is not yours; you don’t think he owes you his truths when he lies to you. But in every universe, you will always want Gojo Satoru to come home safe and sound.

When he comes home, you watch him cook dinner as you cut vegetables and set the plates, he cleans the table and you do the dishes. You both fall asleep in the same bed, and wake up in each other’s arms, and it’s beautiful he tells you. He says he likes lying beside you; it reminds him of better days, and you believe him because you have always had him. You lay in his lap at seven, he slept in your bed at fourteen. The routine has been constant, even when he wasn’t with you; the ghost of his promises haunted you at seventeen.

You have known each other since you were six. Six is a fickle age, you know? Mama calls what you have with him fickle too, but you sing songs of him every time she holds you when he hurts you, and you don’t feel the blood that gushes out of your wounds.

Blood that should be red like the ink you use to pen down your poetry.

You write about broken people, like yourself and Satoru, even more so on hot summer days like today. You’re both fighting again. You don’t remember who started it, you think you were angry first and then Satoru threw a tantrum.

“You cannot understand the plight of a jujutsu sorcerer,” he’d screamed at you, partly out of frustration, mostly fueled by unresolved emotions. Tsumiki had to intervene and pull the two of you apart. Both of you breathing hard through rage and exhaustion alike as your other kid stood by, silent as he observed the two of you. You wonder if loving Gojo Satoru was always meant to be an endless cycle of blazing passion and icy detachment. You can only hope for a middle ground amongst the tumultuous pattern of your relationship.

“I’m sorry,” the words escape you in a mere whisper as you glance at Tsumiki halting your car at the red light, the last one before their school. Within that soft utterance, you yearn for her to discern the weight of shame and the sting of embarrassment that accompany your apology. You always tell Satoru that decency is the least you owe to these siblings who’d already witnessed another set of parents walk out of their lives.

“We are fine, don’t worry about us!” Her voice, a cheerful melody that always seems to uplift even the darkest moments, fills the car. You turn to look at Megumi, sitting in the back seat, silent as he always is. As the light turns green, you focus back on the road, guiding the car towards the school.

“Take care, finish your lunch, and Megumi,” you turn to look at the boy, “no fighting please.”

Pausing momentarily, you search for words that convey both authority and understanding in order to reprimand him for adhering to impromptu decisions of your white-haired friend without informing you.

“Next time, call me,” you finally instruct, sternly, but with a touch of gentleness, and you know he will.

As you continue your journey back to your home, you can’t help but feel grateful for this life. With its lack of stability and foundation, you still find this little life that you’ve built with them beautiful, this is the happiest you’ve ever felt. And you would never trade it for anything else, except for maybe the desires of Satoru. The beautiful, the strongest Satoru.

“Message from Satoru,” Siri speaks through your radio, “We are going out for Mochi, no kids.” And you know it’s an olive branch, the only one he knows how to extend. Because Gojo Satoru is an enigma too. One that you have learned and accepted. Integrated as an intrinsic part of yourself. Much like your routine, he too has become habitual and you cherish him.

He is beautiful like red ink on paper, you think he is even prettier than the moon, and so, so far away like the moon. You can see him like the moon. You can’t hold the moon, so you hold him and call him your moonlight.

Gojo Satoru calls you his north star, but he has not gone home in six years.

i’m so nervous about this, oh my gosh, also thanks to @nanamis-baker and @hayakawalove for having a sneak peak and helping me out with this!

divider credits: @/benkeibear, @/saradika-graphics.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (4)

IV. It is you

MASTERLIST

Summary: Pressures makes wind, earthquakes, and marriages

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.8 k 

Notes: I don;t think this is going to be a love story, this is about politics, and a truly arranged marriage, their relationship will develop of course, but I just wanted to get that out there

“You have done a great job with her”, Cregan raised his eyes to encounter the mythical Jeyne Arryn, cousin to the late Queen Aemma, keeper of the East, Lady of the Eyrie, they both contemplated you as you sat the Iron Throne and gave audiences

“I have done nothing, it’s all her”, he said severely

“You are good with her, for her”, she said then, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes

“I know what you are implying…”

“She needs a husband”, she said

“You should stay here in court, as her hand when I leave”, he said almost at the same time

“You can’t leave her”

“I have to, I have a child…”

“She needs you, the realm needs you”

“The North needs me, she will be fine”

“You know that is not true, she is still too young to differ allies from foes”

“She will learn”

“At the cost of the realms”, Cregan Stark looked at her severely, but he had met her equal, this woman was not going to back down

“What about my son? What about my people? How is that going to work?”, he asked then

“You can come and go”

“A year at a time”

“Maybe”, she said. The small council had been relentless, just as Jeyne was being 

His name was in that alliance

He pledged to take you to wife, you, in name, regardless of who you had become… you were his betrothed. And it’s not like he gave his word lightly, only, like he said, he need a wife and a lady of Winterfell, he did not want to become the King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, he did not want to take care of you… forever…

But he had taken the capital for you

Yes he promised your mother…

But he had done it for you, an unknown princess, on his mind

He found himself looking straight at you

Like the first time he saw you, he thought, again, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Since he took the capital, color had returned to your face, you no longer had darkness under your eyes, your cheeks were fuller, you also filled your dresses more, meaning you were eating more, sleeping longer…

You were better

His eyes then trailed over all the faces of the Lords gathered there in the throne room, lickspittles, asskissers, many of them, without honor, just hunger for power and gold

Did he really care for what happens to the people of the other six Kingdoms? Were you really in danger? Kings had been surrounded by traitors all their lives and nothing major had happened…

Well… until Otto fucking Hightower

No, he couldn’t let that happen again

He thought he only wanted to bring justice to the traitors, but it wasn’t true, he cared about what happened

He cared about what happens to you…

The realization made him shift on his feet

He cared about you 

He did not want you to get married to someone who was going to please the small council and take your place eventually, who was going to manipulate you or worse

He didn’t want you married to someone who…

No… he just didn’t want you married to anyone else… that’s it

The bare thought made him shiver

You felt yourself being watched intensely, and found Cregan Stark’s eyes

You felt your cheeks heated, as you looked away like a little girl who had been caught doing something silly 

You were only a young woman, barely turned eight and ten name days

And Cregan was only a young man who had the power of the biggest country in the seven kingdoms and wanted to use it to avenge his Queen

He was himself impulsive, reckless even, maybe the rest saw him like the greatest choice, but he knew the truth

He wasn’t

What if he tipped you off a ledge? What if he sets you off resulting in the destruction of cities and the annihilation of thousands?

And yet…. He was the only one you trusted

Months on the road, maybe years away from you, years away from his home, his child… There must always be a Stark in Winterfell

But when he leaves you to be in Winterfell, he was going to wish he was in King’s Landing, and when he is here, he wishes he could be in Winterfell, he was already missing it, he wanted to see his son, his five year old son, he had left him in good hands, with his loving half sister, and trusted friends and servants… but still

He was so small, he had it when he was so young, the only thing he had left of his dear friend Arra

If he married you… if…

He was going to give you children, his child, second child, was going to sit the Iron Throne one day… and his oldest was going to be Lord of Winterfell

That was… enticing, to say the least

Too good to be true….

Having children with you, a thought that enticed and scared him in equal measure

A child of Ice and Fire, a child who was going to be a Northerner by blood and a dragon rider as well…

He shifted on his feet again

He wanted it

And he could pretend he had a choice all he wanted, but he didn’t… he had signed the pact… the woman… the Queen seated in the Iron Throne…

Was his betrothed

It didn’t have to be two months, a week long boat ride to White harbor and another week on the road and he could be home quickly…

It had to work

Did you want this?

He gave you the service of ending the courts early, and then you abandoned the throne room.

But before he could reach you, he was intercepted by Celtigar

“I need to talk to you”, he said, Cregan only nodded as they walked together to a hallway of the Keep which seemed to be empty

“What is it?” He asked, his patience long gone

“I can marry her”, he said quickly

Cregan stopped in his tracks, and frowned

“You trust me, don’t you?”, he asked when he saw his face

“yes, but…”

“I can get you out of the pact… if she is the one to accept”

He should be relieved, he should have said yes immediately, but the thought of you marrying someone else… he didn’t like it.

Not that he didn’t trust his friend, he did, he was the best choice according to him, the day before he had offered himself, the thing is… he had changed in the last 24 hours… 

He wanted it, you, the seat at your side, the children you were going to give him…

But he wouldn’t even accept it himself, this was deep inside of him, he wanted to protect you, none of those southerners had what it took, only him, he didn’t trust anyone else, not really 

Only him…

“My name is in those papers”, he growled

“But perhaps if I speak to her, began to court her…”

“I’ll talk to her”, he cut him 

“I really think I should be the one…”, with only one look Cregan makes his friend stop speaking. He had just realized what he truly wanted to do, and he did not need to be contradicted now. “You are marrying her, aren’t you?”, he said, a smile sneaking on his friend’s face

“I don’t know yet, I don’t want to pressure her”, Celtigar only hummed

“I want to marry her too”, he said then. Cregan looked at his friend and he understood him, he was challenging him…

“May the best man win her affections then”, Cregan said.

He was not going to lose

And as he walked away Celtigar only smiled, having pushed his friend in the right direction by only pretending to want your hand in marriage

Cregan had asked Lord Redwyne for help and together they had set you up with young ladies, that shared your age, your ladies in waiting as it were. But instead he found you alone in the Red Keep garden, walking and escorted by one of your white cloaks

“What happened with your ladies in waiting?”, he asked point blank as he approached you, the lack of property, referring to you not as “your grace”, and it made your guard almost wince  

“I send them on their way”, you said simply, leaning in to smell a beautiful flower, barely acknowledging him

“I don’t want you to be lonely”, he said gently, you raised your eyes to look at him 

“yes, I know but they are so… vain… “this lord looked at me”, or “have you seen the dress she was wearing…”, Cregan only smiled condescendingly at you, “and I…”

“You are thinking about the wellness of millions”, he said, “concerned about the future of the entire realm, I understand”

“I understand the need to be distracted for a while, but…”, he only nodded

“I understand”, he said shortly

“Why are you here?”, you asked, nervous, he didn’t understand the change in your dynamic, you had felt confident and calm enough to cry in front of him, but now you were evading his gaze, and shifting in your feet in nerves

In your mind was a bit more clearer

You realized you liked him, you found yourself feeling butterflies in your belly when you saw his handsome face, and you wanted to punch yourself, for being so childish, you were not a young girl in front of her knight in shining armor, you were a Queen now, he was your hand, your advisor, and the head of one of the most important houses on the entire realm.

But you felt your legs shake, and your breath caught in your throat every time you saw him approach you

And every time he was near, you wanted him to stay near you, you felt your chest strangle your heart each time he walked away from you.

Gods this was strange even for you

“I want to ask you something”, he said slowly, you looked at him then, concerned 

“You are leaving”, you said.

You were not an idiot, you knew he had a son, he was the Lord of Winterfell, he needed to rule his home. You couldn’t expect of him to stay here forever 

That took him by surprise

“No”, he said softly

“But you have to go one day, don’t you?”

“That is what I wanted to talk about”, he said softly, your attention was on him then, you tried to pull on those dark feelings that would make you mad at him when he did decided to leave, he could not see that wide-eyed little girl who had a crush on him, not now, and you will not beg when he tells you it was going to be time for him to return home…

“... the marriage offers”, you were lost for a second but that certainly brought you back to attention

“Uh?���, you asked

“You had been offered several hands of many lords over these past few days”

“Did the small council put you up to this?”, you asked, bored

“You need to get married”, he said severely, “we need to make your family strong again, you need to settle your line…”

“I understand”, you said, looking down. You knew he had signed a pact to marry you, but you also did not want to hold him to it, there were different times, it was naive for you to think he was going to hold up his part, he had done enough already 

“A marriage is also an alliance”, he continued, “you need someone who will help you and guide you, but not manipulate you…”

You only nodded

“A strong person, with a powerful family name…”

“If you say Tyland Lannister I swear…”, he chuckled, and shook his head

“No…”, he said. He then stopped all his movements, you felt his gaze on you, so you stopped as well and raised your head and eyes to look at him, “who do you want?”, he asked then

“I’m not sure”, you said, but you did… you wanted him

For the doubt in your mind made him question his own decision. He thought you were going to name him, but you were truly doubtful

You didn’t think he was an option

“I don’t know any of those men”, you said then in a whisper 

“You know some…”, he tried, you looked at him

He felt even guilty for wanting it

He gave in to his deepest desire, of power and lust.

“Yes you are right”, you whispered, looking away from him again, “I just…. need to think this through”, you said with a low voice, you wanted to end this chat

But he didn’t, he needed you to say it

He had heard the small council ask him to, he had heard Lady Jayne Arryn… but he needed to hear it from you.

“There must be someone in your mind”, he said softly, with a gentle, soothing voice

“There was”, you admitted

“Talk to me, I’m your hand”, he continued, “I am here to advice you”

“Until you leave me”, you say then, without thinking, it was barely a whisper

So that’s it, he thought, you resented him for even the mere thought of him abandoning you

“I can come back”, he said then, with a hint of amusement on his voice 

You only hummed, you didn’t believe him, and you were going to feel terribly lost without him, again, alone, like you had been before he saved you…. before he took the city in your name and put you on the throne

He did all of that

There was nobody else you wanted by your side but him

You shared a longing look, a long gaze

What did he want? you asked yourself. He looked like he wanted to listen to you but also to speak, at the same time. You didn’t know what else to say

“What does that mean?”, you asked then. He sighed, loudly

“I signed a pact…”, he said

“Yes, my brother offered my hand in marriage in exchange for your allegiance and your swords”, you said lowly

“No”, he answered back, you looked at him intently, “he asked for my loyalty, he had it already, but he negotiated our union for the simple fact he was scared of something befalling you, he wanted to send you North under my protection to keep you safe from harm, from the war, and from the Greens”

Ah yes, safe from Aemond and Aegon

“That sounds like my brother”, you said, melancholy tainting your voice 

“He wanted to keep you safe”

“In more than one way you had kept your promise”, you assured him, “you took the city, took control…”

“I did”, he said softly, “for you”

“You are going to put a crown in my head”, you said

“In three days”, he said then, “and then you should announced your betrothal”

“I don’t have one”

“You do”, he said finally, his eyes, piercing eyes bore into yours, he dwarfed you in size, and even though he had left his fur cloak behind… he still look big and imposing

“Cregan…”, you called

“Say it”, he encouraged 

“You signed the pact…”, you said.

As you looked at him, you grew angry

What did he want from you? to beg? you didn’t even know. He had signed that past, to marry you one day, and yet, he dodged that part at every turn, he needed to return home, you understood that he had a son, a little boy who needed his father, so why was he here? talking to you in this way? 

“You promised to marry me”, you said softly, he barely nodded, his eyes looking intently at you, “but I understand…”, he frowned then, and you started walking away from him. Letting him standing in the garden

You called in a small council meeting, on your own accord

They were right, you needed to make your family bigger and stronger…

“I called in this meeting because I have to make a demand”, you said firmly, your small council looking amongst each other, Cregan was silent, playing with the dragon eye in front of him

“Tomorrow the Barahteon will present themselves to me, and I want to tell you my intentions so you’ll be prepared”, you said firmly, “It is to my understanding that princess Jahaera, daughter of Aegon the Usurper, is still in Storm’s End…”

“As a guest”, said lord Lannister

“As a hostage”, you said then, “It is to my understanding that she was on her way here, when Aegon was poisoned”, you said softly, “I know because it was discussed at the dinner table in front of me, yet, she is not here, I understand they are trying to keep her safe as some sort of leverage, but…”, you continued, and then you soften your gaze, “I want her here, she is a little girl, a Targaryen, daughter to my lovely aunt Helaena, and she should be with me and Aegon, with family”, you said softly

“Your grace is most graceful”, muttered the Maester, the others murmured their affirmations

“Tomorrow I will demand of the Baratheons to bring little Jahaera back to me, when she is here, we will betrothed her to Aegon, to finally solidify the family and end this madness”, yous aid with a soft smile

Aemond, Aegon, Alicent and Otto are and will burn in hell

But not Helaena and her children

She was an angel, so were the little boys that lost her lives

Jahaera was the only one left, you owe it to Helaena to keep her safe

After the affirmation and support of your small council, you walked towards your little brother’s chambers

He had become so quiet and sad, which was expected, but still, you tried to keep his mind busy, you would put Septas and maesters to teach him and accompany him, at all ours, soon, one of your King’s guards will teach him the art of the sword.

Now you make sure to sit and dine with him

Even though he barely spoke

“Jahaera will come to court soon”, you whispered to him as you served yourself a cup of wine

“Who was Jahaera?”, he asked innocently, of course he didn’t remember 

“Helaena’s child”, you said, “she is your age, you can have fun together”

“Oh”, it's the only thing he said, while continue to have little pieces of bread and meat 

“Maybe one day you can get married”, you said lightly

“When are you getting married?”, he asked then and made you laugh

“Soon, but I don’t know with whom!”, you said as it was a joke, it was sad that it was true

“Marry Cregan”, he said simply

“WHy?”, you asked him, amazed

“I see the way he looks at you”, he said simply

“How does he look at me?”, you asked him

“As papa looked at mama”, he said, and you got quiet

“He has to go back North”, yous aid lightly

“You can command him to stay, you are the Queen”, he said, still not looking at you

“If I only command without listening to reason I’m a Tyrant”, you said softly, “not a queen”

“He wants to stay”, he said

“I don’t know if he does, you know Northerners don’t fare well here in the south”, you joked 

“Command him”, he insisted

“Aren’t you a little tyrant?”, you teased, reaching over the table and tickling his side until he squealed in a laugh

But gods if that made you think…

“He looks at you they way papa looked at mama”

Daemon Targaryen wasn’t much of a communicative man, he didn’t need to speak, it was all in his eyes…

He could make men tremble with just his gaze, he could make his children giggle with a wink, and he could make your mother swoon with that sparkle in his eyes.

Even little Aegon could tell 

Even if the nannies took control over your little brother, you were by his side until he fell asleep, and then you went to your own room

You served yourself a cup of wine, another cup of wine.

“Call in Lord Stark please”, you asked Eryk, and he nodded and went to fulfill your requirement 

It was inappropriate, to say the least, to summon a man to your chambers at this late… but you needn't to worry about such matters… Or you did

Your brother was right, you were a Queen, you had to begin to act like one 

Cregan foud you seated by the fire, in a relaxed stance, with a goblet of wine in your hand

“Your grace”, he greeted, he seemed serious, but you believed you found a glint in his eye… you were started to get to know him and his facial expressions, as cold as they may seem

“My Lord Hand”

“You will summon me and believe me, I will attend to your calling, but I must say, if someone sees me coming into your chambers at the hour of the owl, where we are going to be alone…”

“I’m aware”, you said, smiling at him

“What do you need?”, he asked gently, with a smirk on his lips

“Today in the garden…”, you started, “you mentioned the pact you sign”

“Yes I did”, he said

“Why?”, you asked him

“Why?”, he asked back

“Why would you bring it up?”, you asked again, “it seems that you do not intent to honor it”, he got quiet then, analyzing you

“I meant…”

“There is no one else…”, you said, “it is you”, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling. He softened his gaze

“Is that a command?”, he asked, amusement in his voice, it was like he was playing a game.

“Marry me”, you said, “honor the pact of Ice and Fire… you can come back home, on the condition of course that you come back…”

“To you”, he said

“To me”, you agreed. “Everyone will be at ease, well, except for the Hightowers, when you sit at my side in the throne…”, you said, he barely nodded, still smiling 

“I don’t think so…”, he said finally, you stopped all your movements, was he rejecting you? he was not going to marry you? you had to command him, if he refused, you could fall through, you couldn’t make a man marry you… you started feeling ashamed of even summoning him here… you were starting to feel like an idiot

He turned his back to you and went to the small table in the corner and served himself a goblet of wine.

“I think they will feel threatened..”, he continued, you smiled then, taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “you and me together…”, he continued, taking a sip, “soon they’ll realize… the dragon and the wolf sat together… and they are all sheep”

You both smiled widely at each other 

this is the vibe I was going for jajaja

Cregan is... complex... everyone wanted a tougher Cregan, i'm giving a gray one. He has ambitions, and wants power, and he is not indiferent to us, the beautiful young Queen... of what I read about Cregan, it is what I perceive... anyways... hope you like... maybe I moved it a bit too quickly but I want to get to the good part

taglist! ❤️

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos 

[euphoricfilter]

... or Yoongi + mafia + hybrid + "it's okay baby, i'm okay, it's just a scratch, don't cry love" (spoiler: it's a gunshot not a scratch !!!!! :C)

the depths of hell:

pairing: human! yoongi x cat hybrid! reader

genre: fluff || mild angst || mafia au || hybrid au || non-idol au ||

summary: yoongi hates when you cry.

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: mentions of a gunshot wound, blood, mentions of death, crybaby! reader, very much grumpy x sunshine who only smiles for her type relationship

notes: i put both your requests into one!! the first request is at the end!!

drabble masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You always found the question about where your loyalties lie a little peculiar. Though your answer had always been the same and will continue to be the same for whatever time you have left alive in this world. May death be stood at your front door tomorrow, or you live till old; you’re certain the answer to that question will never change.

Because sure, you weren’t a dog, you didn’t sit at your master’s feet like so many of your kind did that had crawled into this world, the shadows where people like Min Yoongi run chunks of the city, where merely his name is enough for those knowledgeable enough about the city’s mafia to be silenced. One looked at the jagged scar across his eye and his name fizzles out on your tongue until you’re choking on your words, his eyes piercing and picking your soul a part.

But no matter how much blood stains his hands, your loyalties will forever be his. You hadn’t crawled into the depths of hell, Yoongi had extended his hand, a kind offer to join him, and you’d taken it. Skipping through the gates as he laughed at your vibrance.

You’d always been stubborn, Yoongi liked to point it out sometimes, usually accompanied by a gentle smile on his face and an exaggerated pout from you; nothing a soft kiss can’t fix, because as much as Yoongi was in love with you, you will always love him double the amount.

Many of those in the same world as him, always laugh when you make it a point that no amount of riches, no shiny little jewels or promises of endless pleasure will ever make you part ways with Yoongi. Maybe holding your chin high by his side was a fickle game of life and death, where you constantly had a target on your head.

Though it was a risk you were willing to take for Yoongi, because if you were to ever die, as much as he hated the idea, then you’d much rather die by his side.

And no amount of him begging, falling to his knees at your feet with rough hands holding warm cheeks, will ever sway you to never step foot in this household again. No amount of sweet concern and tearful confessions will be enough, and maybe that made you selfish, ignoring Yoongi’s concerns, but sometimes being a little selfish is justified when it comes to the people we love.

Not only was your life at risk, but he’d made it very clear that every day he’d wake up never knowing if it was his last and you’d understood that; however, that didn’t make it any less daunting when he did come home injured.

You hear the front door slam shut, cat ears flickering at Yoongi’s heavy boots padding up the stairs. Heavy in the way you can hear his feet drag against the hardwood floors. Faint buzz of the alarms disarmed reaching you on the other side of the house.

You peek through the open door of the balcony into the bedroom when you hear his footsteps outside the room, clumsy when the door swings open, and you watch as he staggers towards the bed.

You smell it before you see it, thick metallic blood permeating the air, and your heartrate picks up; book long forgotten on the table as you stumble into the bedroom, eyes zeroing in on his blood covered hands—white shirt-stained red.

“Yoongi?” you dare ask, falling to your knees before him as he hunches over on the bed, eyes avoiding your gaze.

“I’m fine” he grunts, hand held over his stomach.

You swallow thickly, hands shaking as you try and pry his own hand away from his wound, “Yoongi please” you hiccup, his body becoming a blur of red behind the veil of tears, “You’re hurt, please”

And he can see the tremble in your hands, pearly little tears falling onto his slacks as you try and get a better look at his wound, only your body shakes as you sob, fingers barely holding onto his wrist.

“It’s okay baby, I’m okay, it’s just a scratch, don’t cry, love” he coos, “You know I hate to see you cry”

His spare hand pauses just above your hybrid ears when he sees it stained with blood, grimace painting his face and he can’t tell what hurts more. The heartache of seeing you cry, or the bullet lodged into his side.

“I’m not stupid Yoongs. I’m gonna call Taehyung” you push yourself up on shaky legs, cat tail wrapping around your thigh. Faux comfort doing nothing to ease the anxiety that’s thrumming throughout your body, heart wrenching at the thought of losing Yoongi.

“Stop panicking, my love” he watches as you throw the pillows off the bed, blankets shoved out the way when you can’t find your phone, another pitiful sob shaking your body as frustration bursts as your seams.

“I don’t want to lose you” you cry, back of your hand wiping your eyes.

And maybe if Yoongi didn’t feel like he was moment away from passing out, he would have found it funny how bossy you’d sounded over the phone, because no matter how late it was Taehyung needed to get to the house as soon as possible, your threats far from empty.

You’d pressed a towel to the open wound while waiting for Taehyung, babbling on about some bullshit Yoongi didn’t want to think about, eyes shutting at the sound of your voice; only slipping them open when he hears the sheer panic in your tone, worried he’d fallen unconscious.

“I love you” he murmurs, weak squeeze of your hand bringing a watery smile to your face as Taehyung patches him up, your tail whipping around behind you in mild distress with each uncomfortable groan he let out.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” you blink up at Taehyung through wet lashes, fingers gentle as they brush Yoongi’s sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“Yeah, just make sure he doesn’t pop the stitches and he should be okay”

Your small smile drops at that, “This isn’t funny” you snap when you see the wry smile on the doctor’s face.

“He’s a lot stronger than you think he is. He’d crawl out the depths of hell just so you weren’t alone, I doubt a shitty shot at his abdomen is going to stop him from coming back home to you”

“Why’re you still here” Yoongi pushes himself up, and you fuss over the pillows behind him, “Go home, Taehyung” he grunts.

Said man gives you a knowing look and you simply turn back to Yoongi, cat ears flickering when the bedroom door clicks shut.

“I’ll get a cool towel for you” you pick up his bloodied shirt on your way to the bathroom, running the tap cold.

“Come here, baby, I’ve had a long day. Let’s take a bath and cuddle, how’s that sound” he leans against the frame of the door.

You turn the tap off, “You’re meant to be resting, you know”

“I am. I know you have one of those shitty bath bombs you wanted to try out, go and choose with one you want”

“They’re not shitty” you smile, “Promise you’ll rest after a bath? I’m worried you’ll re-open your wound”

“Promise, my love. I feel like shit, we need to change the sheets as well” he grumbles, tugging his boxers off as you start to run the bath.

“I love you” you look up at him from where you’re crouched on the floor.

“I might just love you a little more”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, “That’s impossible. I’d crawl out of the depths of hell for you too, just so you know”

☀️ thank you for reading!!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

first request:

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Pinch Me

After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream. 

or

This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.

I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that! 

Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me)

Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad. 

In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile. 

By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside,  a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood. 

After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away. 

The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new. 

It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well. 

You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.

And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you. 

His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.

You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink. 

“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested. 

“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”

Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas. 

The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter. 

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date. 

“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly. 

“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place. 

You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.

The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side. 

“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”

“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”

“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.

“Okay. Four cheese then.”

“You sure?” Your interest piqued. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”

You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you. 

Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“ 

Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly. 

His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks. 

Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting. 

Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.

As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.  

Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly. 

On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground. 

Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress. 

With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck. 

“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep. 

“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.  

“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there. 

Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest. 

“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully. 

When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss. 

“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there. 

With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there. 

You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck. 

It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.

Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now. 

Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache. 

You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”

You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’. 

He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.” 

You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”

Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot. 

“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes. 

“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”

Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Baby…” 

Baby. 

You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?” 

You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them. 

He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name. 

Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull. 

Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode. 

You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice. 

Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?” 

“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck. 

Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady. 

You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap. 

Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”

That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder. 

His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.” 

Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist. 

The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame. 

Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again. 

“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections. 

He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing. 

His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle. 

You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck. 

You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you

With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together. 

Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream. 

“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile. 

“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth. 

After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”

“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”

“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.

“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.

“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”

“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”

You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”

“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”

“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”

He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out. 

“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?” 

“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.” 

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods. 

“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity. 

“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.

“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”

“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans. 

“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.

“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...” 

“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”

“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart. 

The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again. 

“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle. 

You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”

His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”

“She is.” 

He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.” 

“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”

Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again. 

Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.

comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished

[rosewine-5]

Eyes Never Lie

gif made by margeretmarch

Coriolanus Snow x b!woc capitol reader

(Contains spoilers for T.B.O.S.&S)

A.N: what the hell is a p.o.v anyways, it bounces from one character to another. I am not the best writer so if you see a spelling mistake/ typo I apologize, I’ll get better.

A.N 2.0 : this might get a part 2 because my mind got one idea, then another and I just RAN with it.

Word Count: 4.2k words (trust me, it was more)

———

When the both of you first met, it just so happened to be your first year at the academy. At the time, you were only acquainted to one person, a nice boy who, despite his riches, was very humble, and dare you say good looking: Sejanus Plinth. He had approached you, making civil conversation, and before long you both discovered the two of you had similar thoughts and opinions, particularly about the capitol.

That was when you first laid eyes on him. The tall blue eyed blonde boy. From the look on his face, anyone could tell he was a little nervous, hell everyone was a bit nervous to be here, being the first day and all. But flexing your hand every 5 seconds is a clear sign you’re about to pass out from fear. That was when you approached him, Sejanus not too far behind.

When he turned to you, his eyes widened a little, shocked someone was looking to make conversation with him. While his eyes went from in between Sejanus and yourself, yours stayed on his face. He kept a calm face, not showing a lot of expression, one free lesson growing up you had mastered.

Even though you were blessed to grow up in the capitol, you never much cared for the people, viewing the other districts almost like animals and not people infuriated you.

But you were good at hiding your expression behind your eyes, and this boy was good at it too. Too good. In fact, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, “Odd, I can usually tell, even guess what people think.” Not him, not Coriolanus Snow, as he introduced himself. You knew of him, just not anything about him other than his family name.

As years went by, it became clear the 3 of you would be close friends, but your feelings for Coriolanus grew deeper than yours for Sejanus. You couldn’t see Sejanus as much as you could Coriolanus, so naturally you would have a deeper connection. The both of you even walked to school most of the time because you lived so close together.

Today you decided to add a couple of beads onto your braids this morning and walked out of the house. After walking a couple of blocks, you spotted Coriolanus just walking outside, and waving to you. “You’re up early.” You said, giving him a short hug which he returned. “I didn’t want to be late.” You rolled your eyes as he said that, “You’ve never been late to class, ever.”

He looked forward, a smirk on his face. “Can’t afford to be late.” He always answered. You looked up at him, his eyes never wavering from the road ahead. “You know why.” He then added, to which you nodded as a reply.

You discovered his true reasoning of why he strived to be top of the class by chance. He had gotten sick as he was walking home, having an uncontrollable coughing fit and fell out on the grass. You refused to let him walk home alone and that was the first time you had seen him so vulnerable. He almost looked embarrassed when you helped him in his home and to his room.

As you helped him out of his jacket, he slowly laid back. You went to get a towel to wipe the blanket of sweat off his forehead. As you came back, he caught your hand. “I’m sorry you had to see this.” He weakly said, returning your attention to him,” Go ahead, laugh at me.” I shook your head, “Why would I? You’re my friend.” You then took the towel and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“I may have been raised capitol, Coriolanus, but I was also raised with a soul. I’d do anything to survive and succeed in this life, who am I to judge you for doing the same thing?”

For a moment the only thing in the room was the sound of his breathing as his hand reached for your hand, and kissed it, before holding it firmly, never looking away from you. You looked in his eyes, and for the first time you could finally see what he was thinking, “Thank you”. You then nodded, not needing him to say a word as you stood up, and kissed his forehead, “Get some rest, Corio, you need it.” As you walked out of the home, you walked in silence.

You felt like a terrible friend, not knowing how much he was going through. But that wasn’t the only reason, your heart soared when his lips kissed your hand. Sure it might have been an innocent gesture, but the way he looked at you made your heart stop for a second. Sometimes you swear he did it on purpose.

During the last academy year, the closer you got to Coriolanus, the more you realized you truly loved him, and sometimes you thought he loved you back. The walks to the academy became slower and somehow his hand always found yours. At one point you had to run to get there on time, earning the both of you harsh stares from Dean Highbottom and smirks from Sejanus.

The both of you also agreed to study together whenever you could, even including Sejanus whenever he was free. There was no doubt in your mind that either you or Coriolanus would be top of the class, and receiving the Plinth Prize. And if you were the one who came out on top, you would give Coriolanus the funds he needed, whatever they would be.

While you two studies for the last test, he smiled when you rolled his eyes. “Alright smartass, you’re going to pass.” You said. Suddenly, he pulled you into his arms, and hugged you tightly.

You then felt his voice break, “Thank you.” He softly said. “You’re my friend, I’d help you with anything.” You said, looking up at him, a smile splitting your face. As you walked to class the next day & took the exam, he had a sly smirk on his face the whole day. Even at lunch he didn’t drop it. “Someone in a real good mood.” Sejanus said, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah, what’s got you in a good mood?” You teasingly asked. “You know.” He said, looking at you, the smirk turning into a smile, which all of your mirrored.

As the two of you walked back home he had a smile on his face again. Confidence. As he stayed close behind you, you stopped when you got to his doorstep. “So, here’s to winning the Plinth Prize tomorrow.” You said, giving him one last hug, which he returned. That was when you lifted your head to look up at him, but he was already looking down at you. Once again, you couldn’t read the thoughts behind his eyes, but you could make a good guess. He only had that similar look when it was just the two of you together: admiration.

“What is it?” You asked, a nervous chuckle leaving your mouth. He only shook his head, offered you a smile, finally releasing you from the embrace. “See you tomorrow, Calanthe.” He whispered before going inside. “One day I’ll look up what that name means.” You said to yourself, walking home.

The next day, graduation day. You woke up early to get your makeup on, slicking your edges back, and, to enhance your braids, added a gold charm in the middle. Afterwards you got dressed in the outfit Tigris made for your graduation. She insisted on it and told you she wouldn’t take no for an answer. As you walked to their home, you heard your name being called from behind you. Tigris was waving you down before hugging you excitedly. “Turn around for me!” She said, making you twirl as she admired her work.

As you waited, you saw Grandma’am clip a rose and walk out of her room. “Oh, dearie don’t you look gorgeous.” She said, smiling at you and opening her arms to you. You met her in the middle and gave her a light hug. “Not a gorgeous as you, Grandma’am.” You said, smiling at her kind words. She then walked forward and after an exchange of words, pinned the rose to his vest.

His eyes finally met yours, and then they took in your dress. He walked forward and kissed your hand, a now normal occurrence between the two of you. “Shall we?” He asked, before walking the both of you out the door. As the two of you walked to the academy, you could feel his eyes on you. “You look beautiful.” He said, giving you a smile, and making your heart soar once more.

“And you look dashing today.” You complimented, not missing the red tint on his cheeks. As you two walked up the stairs, his arm looped into yours. “Never missed a class, never been late.” He said to himself. “Corio, you got this.” You said, encouraging him, he offered you a small smile just as a new and familiar voice broke the moment.

“Why Coriolanus Snow.” You saw the small smirk grow on his face. “Clemie.” He said, offering him his other arm. “Hey girl.” She said, nodding to you, and getting a smile in return. “Two girls on your arm, must be your lucky day.” Clemmie teased and making Corio roll his eyes. As she continued to talk, your mind went to the graduation. You were getting more nervous than usual.

Something felt off today, and you didn’t like it.

You didn’t realize you had stayed in a trance until Sejanus walked up beside you, breaking the gaze. “Sejanus, you made it to the reaping for once.” “And you made it to graduation, Festus, we’re both shocked.” After hearing Sejanus’ quips, you went to sit down. You didn’t know why your nerves were acting up, but you couldn’t kick this feeling. “You ok?” You heard a voice ask, Sejanus was standing over you, concern in his eyes. “I’m just nervous about today.” You said, making him nod in response.

“Well, you may be right.” He said, sitting done next to you. That made the hair on the back on your neck stand up. And the look on his face didn’t help either. “What do you mean?” You asked, but getting no answer. Then as the rest of the students sat down, you saw why he was so silent. After it was announced there would be no more Plinth Prize, you looked at Coriolanus, who had a worried expression on his face.

However, when it was announced that the graduates would be mentors of the Hunger Games, that was when you froze, and your mind started to race.

There’s 25 graduates.

There are only 24 tributes.

Someone isn’t getting a tribute.

Going from district to district, started to guess who had a good chance at winning. Your heart broke when one girl, Dill, was pulled out. You stared to wonder if she had been voted so she could die in the arena. When it got to the district 12 female tribute, it was down to you and Coriolanus. His hand found yours and held it tightly, but you didn’t know who was holding on tighter.

“The runt girl from district twelve, she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

And that was when you knew he was the one holding on to you. He squeezed your hand so hard you almost thought he broke it.

The tribute: Lucy Gray, was wearing a colorful dress with a corset top. You had to admit, she was beautiful, and so was her dress. You watched as she put a snake on a girls dress, making you smirk. “I love her already” you thought to yourself. But then your mind suddenly came back to reality, you didn’t have a tribute. What did I do wrong? Did I pass? Did I fail?

The only thing that broke your trance was a voice singing, then another. You saw Lucy Gray stand up, and continue to sing by herself. “YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!” She then screamed. As the rest of the people laughed at her, you and Coriolanus shared a look: I like her.

As the laughter started to die down, one voice spoke up. “If you didn’t receive a tribute, report to Dr. Gaul.” Highbottom’s voice spoke up, and then it was silent. All eyes turned toward you, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and die. Sejanus’ hand found yours, giving you a silent squeeze of encouragement, and Coriolanus’ did the same. You then walked towards the woman, a small smile gracing her face.

“Let’s have a talk, child.” She said, her hand finding your back, leading you away from the hall. You were only able to catch a small glimpse of Coriolanus’ worried expression as you went down the hallway. She started to hum a tune while she led you to her lab. You had never been here, but you always wanted to get a peek. “Guess I got my wish.”

“I’ve been watching you, dear, for a long time.” She said, going further into the room. “Almost the top of your class, but you could never quite get that edge.” Dr. Gaul said, pinching her fingers together. “Why am I here?” You asked, finally finding your voice. Dr. Gaul then raised her eyebrows, and then let out a dark chuckle. “Let me ask you: What do you crave most in this world?”

You sighed, “To survive and thrive in this world.” She nodded, “Good answer.” She said, smiling. “You and your friend, Coriolanus, you two are good friends. Bonds like that build trust, those bonds can help you live as much as they can destroy you.” Dr. Gaul said, going to one of her glass cases in her lab. You didn’t know what the hell was in it, and frankly, you didn’t want to know. “I’ve known President Ravinstill for a long time, and we both live well, and thrive.” She said, putting her hand on your shoulder before looking down at you.

“I see myself in you, child. You thirst for survival, but to thrive you need to reach for power,” that was when she gave you a deadpanned look, “that’s why I pulled you from the games.” Your eyes widened at the realization, and she smiled once more. “You don’t need the Plinth Prize when you got mommy and daddy’s money. Why settle for a housewife when you have the brains of game maker.”

You almost shouted when she finished, “Game maker?” You said, to which she nodded. “You’ve always been a curious child, a strong appetency for knowledge.” Dr. Gaul said, putting her gloved hand under your chin. “You want a look behind the curtain? You wanna know how the puppeteer makes the strings? You need to join the magic show.”

You thought about your options, but you knew this opportunity wouldn’t come around twice. Almost like she knew your answer, Dr. Gaul then took you hand, and led you deeper into her lab.

After talking for hours, you knocked on Coriolanus’ door and it immediately opened to a shocked Tigris. “Where’s Corio?” You asked, after hugging her. It didn’t take long for him to come around the corner and hugged you tightly. “What happened? Did you get hurt?” He asked, but you stopped his hand as he examined your face. “I’m okay. Dr. Gaul just pulled from the competition.” You calmly said, and immediately regretted it, the faces of Tigris and Coriolanus going from worry to shock. “Why?” He asked.

She told me she’d be mentoring me from now on. I’ll be studying under her from now on, as well as continuing my classes.” His eyebrows rose before hugging her again. “That’s great news.” He said, but then I hugged him tighter. “For a moment, I thought my life was done for.” He nodded, and then looked you deep in the eyes. “We will get through this. I promise you.” You left a few minutes later, but before you got down the street, Coriolanus caught you “Hey!” He shouted, making you turn around. He was running towards you, holding out a wrapped cloth.

“I meant to give you this at the graduation, but you were pulled away.” He said. You unwrapped it, and smiled when you saw the flower charm. You smiled and held it tightly. “I meant to get a charm for this one day.” You said, looking up at him. “Guess I beat you to it.” He said, before returning the smile. “Meet me at the train tomorrow. I have a plan on how to get in Lucy Gray’s good graces.” You nodded and went home afterwards.

The next morning you got up early and put your uniform on before walking to the station, where Coriolanus was already talking to Lucy Gray, who saw you walking up to them. “Another mentor?” She suddenly said, turning towards you, pointing a white rose in your direction, obviously a gift from Coriolanus. Smart.

That was when he turned to you, and put an arm around you. “This is Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray, this is my closest friend.” He said, and you gave her a smile. “Another rebel?” She said, looking at you. “If it fits,” you said, shrugging, before leaning closer to her. “ loved the stunt you pulled with the snake by the way.” You added, making her smirk.

The moment was cut short when a peacekeeper nudged her and the male tribute towards a vehicle. “It was lovely to meet you two.” She said, before being led away to the back of a van. You then saw his eyes go to the van, and then it clicked in your head. “Corio, don’t.” You said, but it was too late. He was running toward the van, and you were following close behind him. It finally registered what you just did when he slammed the door behind him and felt the van move, going wherever it was going.

And now here you two were.

In a vehicle.

Full of tributes who were looking at the two of you like lions to lambs. Corio put you beside him, putting you closer to the tribute from 2 and the wall. “Hi.” He said, his voice sounding weak. “You in the wrong cage pretty boy, pretty girl?” The tribute Realer asked, tilting his head to look at you. “This cage is delightful.” He said, and then Reaper went towards Corio, pinning him to the back. You yelped when you were then surrounded by the tributes. “Shit.” You thought.

Somewhere between the exchange between Corio and the other tributes, you felt the truck come to a sudden stop, getting everyone’s attention. That was when you felt the truck start to tilt forward, everyone started to slide down. In one swoop you reached for Lucy’s hand as she reached for yours as Coriolanus wrapped one arm around your waist and your free arm around his shoulders. The three of you were able to hang on to each other as the other tributes began to slide down and out of the van. The three of you followed suit after the harness broke, sending you all tumbling out of the truck.

Lucy slid down first, with you and Corio falling out last. He was able to wrap both of his arms around you before everyone let out groans and curses from falling on rocks. When you were able to look up, you realized exactly where you were: The Capitol Zoo. And if fate couldn’t make it any better, Lucky Flickerman was in front of the pen, with his entourage of cameramen. “You gotta be kidding me.” You said, groaning and leaving you head down, only to be met with a blue shirt.

As you lifted your head, you were face to face with Coriolanus, who, somehow, had managed to keep his hold on you when everyone tumbled out of the van. “You ok?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Yes. Are you ok?” He asked, and you nodded in response. His eyes went to your necklace and the rose charm attached to it, a smile blooming on his face. His hand touched it, “You put it on.” He said in a soft tone & a tender look in his eyes.

As you both smiled at each other, you felt one hand go to your cheek and to then the other to your waist. The rest of Panem melted away as his breath hit your face. You forgot about being in the capitol, being Gaul’s student, and the tributes around you as you looked in between his eyes and his lips. “Calanthe.” He whispered, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. That was until the voice of Flickerman broke the moment. “Are those academy students?” He said, and the both of you looked up to see the camera pointed directly at you.

“You guys ok?” Lucy asked, walking up to the both of you. “Yeah, you?” You asked, getting off of Corio and helping him up. The three of you looked around, and sighed. That’s when you began to brainstorm: how could you get out of this without getting expelled? “We gotta get them to love her.” You said to yourself. You then brought your necklace to the front of your shirt before unbuttoning the top button, making the rose charm more visible. “We give them what they want: a performance.” You then walked to Lucy and began to smooth out her hair while Corio broke the white rose and tucked it behind her ear.

He then put her hand out for Lucy to take, which she accepted. He then turned and opened his arm towards you, making you raise your eyebrows. “Trust me.” He whispered, and Lucy nodded towards his arm, and that’s how you found yourself being next to him as he presented Lucy to a pair of children at the cage.

You weren’t only shocked of how he fell into the role of a mentor, but how Lucy played her part as a tribute. She had a smile on her face when she talked to the children, and a calm expression when Flickerman approached and interviewed her. You couldn’t help but smile as she talked about her dress and where she was from. The Covey sounded like it was a homely group of people. You couldn’t help but picture how the nature of district 12 looked.

That was when Lucky Flickerman turned towards you. “And who might this lovely lady be? Are you also her mentor?” He asked, the camera’s filling the microphone as it was put in front of you. An innocent smile grew on your face as you shifted your tone into a kind voice, while still having a serious edge to it. “No sir, I’m taking courses from Dr. Gaul instead of being a mentor in the games. I’m here to support my dear friend, Coriolanus Snow.” You said, smiling up at him, which he responded by squeezing you closer to him. “You both seem pretty close for dear friends. How long have you known each other?” Flickerman asked, moving the microphone to Coriolanus.

“Since the first day we went to the academy. She approached me, and we’ve been close ever since. I’ve never known a more intelligent and alluring woman.” He said, and your eyes did a double take at his choice of words. Before you could answer, peacekeepers walked in and escorted you out of the cage. “I’ll come back later.” You said to Lucy Gray, holding her hand for a moment before you were taken away, Corio coming out a minute later. As the both of you walked back to class, you kept looking up at Coriolanus.

“On a scale of one to expelled, how fucked do you think we are?” You asked, making him chuckle. “He wanted us to make them spectacles, he never said how we had to do it.” He said, nudging your shoulder, making you huff out a short laugh. You then took his hand and gripped it tight, which he reciprocated. “To survive and thrive.” You said, walking closer to the classroom. “We will survive these games,” Coriolanus softly said, before stopping you, and making you look up at him. “I promise you.”

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

[worriedvision]

You're related to his foster parents - Wriothesley

Angst, spoilers for Wriothesleys story. Reader doesn't know they are the biological child of Wriothesleys foster parents, and they have always wanted to know who their parents were.

In this fic, think of the foster parents and you looking the same.

--

"Are you sure you want to know who your biological family are?" Neuvillette asks you, clearly hesitant. "Your parents were...not parent material."

--

You thought nothing of it when Neuvillette said that, assuming your parents were perhaps thieves that chose the wrong house. Perhaps even deadbests that left you at an orphanage.

When you met Wriothesley, you always felt attached to him. When you start dating, you felt like he filled a missing hole in your soul. He understood you wished to find your biological family, hell he was curious at times himself!

Once you discovered Neuvillette had something that could help you find out about your parents, you jump at the chance - Wriothesley reassuring you it would go well.

--

Unfortunately, you should have listened to Neuvillette's clear warning, as you open the letter to see your parents there.

The people that took in Wriothesley, as well as quite a few other children, just to sell to the highest bidder.

"Why did I not live with them?" You ask Neuvillette, him taking a deep breath.

"They sold you as well, you just happened to be sold to an orphanage that took in the children they were lucky enough to bid the highest with." Neuvillette explains.

"...Thanks, Monsieur Neuvillette." You sigh. "This answered my questions."

--

Once you get back to your boyfriend, you still hadn't realised how much of a mistake telling him who your parents were would have been. You vented about your family, how your parents turned out to be terrible people. It was only after noting his silence that you looked at him, only to see a cold glare.

"I can't unsee them now." Wriothesley grumbles. "You look like both of them."

"Honey, I'm not-"

"Please leave." Wriothesley stands up, turning so he could stop looking at you. "I know I'll hurt you if I keep looking at you."

"But I'm not them! I was sold when I was a toddler!"

Seeing Wriothesley shake with a simmering rage, you realise he was furious. Furious that you were related to those two horrible humans beings who sold off their foster kids. He didn't seem to care all that much about you also being sold off, only considering the fact you were blood related to his foster parents and you also got their features.

You don't even realise you're getting dragged out by a couple of guards until you find yourself in the elevator, taking you back to the surface.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Kaz and Wylan’s potential to become each other

Wow, you guys were a lot more excited about this than I was expecting! I made a post briefly mentioning this idea and it got way more attention that I was expecting, so as promised here is my explanation and I’ve tagged people who asked for it at the end :)

*WARNING: CONSTANT SPOILERS AHEAD*

Ok so the driving forcing of this comparison is rooted in the similarities of their characters and their backstories. Both of them lost a close family member, were abused by men with power over them, and experienced a form of ‘rebirth’ by nearly drowning in the Ketterdam canals. They also both experience disability; Kaz using a cane for a broken leg that didn’t heal correctly, and Wylan having severe dyslexia that prevented him from learning to read. A key difference that separates them, and arguably is a representation of the difference in the way their experiences have shaped their personalities as well, is that Kaz’s disability is a direct result of his chasing after vengeance, whereas Wylan’s disability was used as an excuse for his father to abuse him for what we as the reader see to be a minimum of eight years. (I’m assuming this because he is 16 in the book and was 8 when his mother ‘died’, which is the point that he describes he father to have “given up on him”)

I’m gonna quickly hop to parallels between Kaz and Pekka Rollins, bare with me I promise it’s relevant, which are quickly established as a key part of the novels. When Inej compares them, Kaz’s reply is “I don’t sell girls, I don’t con helpless kids out of their money” to which she gently responds “look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz”. Aside from this being the heartbreaking line that it is, it also does a very good job of highlighting their similarities and a similarity that they share with Jan Van Eck. When they meet the merch at the end of the first book they meet on an island called Vellgeluk, which is described as being popular with smugglers and slavers like those who kidnapped Inej. The other Crows are surprised Van Eck knows about Vellgeluk, but Kaz simply says “maybe he isn’t the upstanding merch he appears to be”. Great subtle foreshadowing for his double cross, and great establishment of the link between these three characters. In fact, Van Eck and Kaz echo each other more than you might think. Just as Kaz states “Greed bows to me, it is my servant and my lever”, Van Eck says “Yes, Chaos will come. And I will be it’s master”. In their first meeting, Van Eck accuses Kaz of murder and gambling with people’s lives, and in return Kaz points out that 1 in 5 of Van Eck’s ships will never return because they will sink or “fall prey to pirates”, so they are both doing the same thing, and that they both have the same motivations for this bloodshed: “profit”.

Now consider how often Wylan echoes Kaz, and therefore whether he echoes his father as well. They both have exceptional memories, Kaz’s being photographic/eidetic and Wylan being able to put words to music in his head to remember pages worth of infomation - this is even emphasised by Kaz being able to count cards when he gambles, saying “he could keep track of the game for up to three decks” and Jesper asking Wylan if he’d be able to apply “that trick to counting cards” to which he replies “probably. But I won’t”. They also both have impressive intellects, which could have placed them far higher up in the world than they’ve found themselves if it weren’t for cruel circumstances - Van Eck even comments on this, saying it angers him that Kaz has so much potential but does nothing with it. Then there’s their tendency to avoid being vulnerable. I think we too often overlook the fact that no-one knows Jan Van Eck hired two men to kill his son, not even Jesper, and that not even Inej knows what happened to Kaz on the Reaper’s Barge. Jesper believes that Wylan left his house as a result of his father’s abuse but that it was still his choice, and Inej has no information beyond “Pekka Rollins killed my brother” and the explanation of the con when Kaz faces off with Rollins in Crooked Kingdom. I genuinely believe that the biggest thing separating them is where they place blame for their situations. Kaz blames Pekka Rollins. Wylan actually blames himself.

Arguably, although he catalysed the events, if Rollins hadn’t conned Kaz and Jordie they still would have suffered in an almost identical way: they would both contract the Queen’s Lady Plague, they wouldn’t have enough money for both medicine and boarding, and Jordie would die. In that scenario Kaz would have still been left penniless and alone with nowhere to go, but he wouldn’t have had anyone to blame. In fact, he may have died as well because it’s really his drive for vengeance that makes him strive for survival. When he’s on the Reaper’s Barge he wonders if it’s worth trying to survive because there’s nothing waiting for him in the city, but then he realises that the chance of revenge is waiting for him, and that thought drives him to stay alive every day that follows. Without Rollins, Kaz probably would have blamed himself for Jordie’s death, and I’m backing that up with the singular moment when he’s first attacked by parem-high tide makers and has a brief “boy’s fear” that they are ghosts. He thinks, for a split second, that a ghost has come to kill him and what does he say? He says “Jordie had come for vengeance at last”. This is chapter three. We have no idea who Jordie is. With the limited information we had at the time and what we’d just seen happen to Big Bolliger, I assumed it was someone in Kaz’s gang that he had backstabbed and who has died because of what he did. But no. This single line leads me to wholeheartedly believe that Kaz blames Rollins, who realistically was only a small part of his suffering, quite so vividly to emotionally avoid blaming himself.

Wylan blames himself until around chapters 14 to 16 of Crooked Kingdom. His experiences with mental, emotional, and physical abuse have actively convinced him that his so-called ‘inadequacies’ caused a change in his father’s behaviour. But Wylan not being able to read didn’t magically turn Van Eck from a lucky family man into someone willing to try “specialists, tonics, beatings, [and] hypnotism” against his child. The fact is that Van Eck, like many abusers, is masterfully manipulative in everything he does. Wylan describes seeing his parents’ marriage as a happy one, but he also says “the argued all the time, sometimes about me. But I remember them laughing a lot too”. He’s quick to defend their relationship as if it isn’t supposed to be marred by argument and he lays blame on himself by suggesting that he was the root of their unhappiness. He also says that around Alys, Jan Van Eck becomes who he once was around Marya; a kinder, gentler man. I don’t think we’re meant to assume that he’s acting any differently with Alys in private right now, but I do think we’re meant to assume that he would have done down the line if he hadn’t been arrested (and presumably she filed for divorce). In chapter 14 of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan learns that his mother is still alive but that his father had her committed and declared insane so he could use it as grounds for divorce and marry Alys instead. And you know what happens? Wylan blames himself. He says, verbatim, to Jesper: “You don’t understand. It’s my fault”. He explains that Van Eck did this so he could have a “real heir”; because Marya produced a “faulty” child he needed a new woman to give him the child he wanted. That’s a messed up thing to think on so many levels, but Wylan doesn’t blame Van Eck because he is still being conditioned by his abuse. He and Kaz experienced different kinds of abuse, and Kaz wasn’t conditioned to blame anyone but his abuser, so that’s what he does. When Wylan does begin to blame Van Eck, he is immediately taken in by this same idea of revenge. Kaz says “you were angry. I needed you righteous” when explaining why he sent Wylan to St Hilde blind in chapter 16. Wylan was angry with his father before, but he wasn’t actively seeking vengeance. Now that he has a cause, someone other than himself to fight for? He tells Kaz “well, now you have me”.

Both of them have this potential to be fuelled by revenge or self-hatred, and although they go about it in different ways and lean towards different sides of the scale they are both balancing between those two extremes for the entire duology. Their past experiences have, and their future experiences could, tip them further either way but right now they are almost playing with the line.

Thank you so much if you’ve bothered to read this far, sorry for the long post but you did ask for an essay, so there you go. Tagging the people who asked - @kazooyay @mikasimaginairyworld @sunseeking-cyptid @moonlit-aura @alexplutoplanet @gandalfsmallnaturals @livsarthaven @goodomenstrack23 @origami-butterfly @flower-biatch @bookworm010307 @thesunniest @wherela @space-ace-thoughts @sixofbabycrows @antisocial-burrito

Sorry if I missed anyone!!!

[muzansfangs]

Not perfect, yours.

Starring: Tomioka Giyuu x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, body worship, spoiler regarding Giyuu’s past, scars from battles, learning self-love, comfort sex, creampie, enstablished secret relationship, mentions to injures, post traumatic stress disorder (flashes about Sabito’s death), nipple play, praise kink, slight choking kink;

Plot: You have learned to love yourself by loving him. Living a life of danger, wearing the scars of your fights with pride, you would have never thought someone was going to love you. When you met him, when he opened his heart to you, though, everything changed. Protecting what you two had was your priority. As you shared a night into a Wisteria house with him, you finally let yourself go. You trusted Giyuu with your whole life, you loved him more than anything else on this world;

Author note: it is rare for me to put the author note on top of a one-shot, but in order to prevent possible drama to happen, I needed to clarify a thing, or two: this fic is an old work of mine posted on my old Ao3 account and my old Wattpad profile as well. While I cannot log anymore into Ao3 for some reason, I can still log into my old Wattpad profile and I will try to gradually delete my old works as I fix and rewrite them! Do not worry and enjoy this little scrap!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bittersweet scent of the wisteria filled the room, a gentle breeze blowing from the window making the atmosphere quite peaceful.

Sitting onto the tatami floor, you ran your fingers absent-mindedly through your hair, glancing at your reflection in the mirror in front of you. You looked battered. A constellation of scratches and bruises of various colors, mostly purple though, adorned your skin. Your hair, despite emanating a sweet porfume from the oil you had been kindly provided by the old keeper of the Wisteria house were still a mess. You had not got much time to trim them as of late.

What did you expect, though? This was your life and your day had been spent in a draining battle against a demon. Nothing new under the sun. You were used to look like this, to look kind of repulsive or unattractive for most of the male population. Or those were the words you had frequently heard people tag you with.

You were beautiful, your eyes glowing in passion, your features and curves making some Oirans turn pale. Yet, you had chosen a path that made you collect scars over your body and that caused every man you had met in your life to scrunch their noses in disgust, whenever you tried to strike up some basic conversation.

No one seemed to like a woman who lived the life of a warrior.

No one except him, the Water Pillar, Giyuu Tomioka. You two were considered the outcasts of the society. You were a rather unconventional woman, he was a lone wolf barely talking to people. Too reserved, too detached from the world, too sensitive too. Yet, you somehow found love in his solitary heart.

Glancing back at him from above your shoulder, your gaze trailed towards him, laying on the futon behind you. He was shirtless, his ocean blue eyes locking with yours before travelling down your own body. You watched how his pale cheeks turned red and you smiled faintly at his innocent reaction. His gaze was not lustful, it was one of complete adoration: a timid attempt to make you feel appreciated.

You were not naked, you still had the pants of your uniform hanging loosely on your hips and your chest was still covered by the straps of your worn-out bendage bra. However, that was the first time you had been stuck in the same room together, barely wearing clothes.

This was a new experience, a level of intimacy you both had been looking forward to. Something you coveted for months.

Seven months had passed since your first date. It had taken you less than two months to realize how deep was your love for him, how strong was the connection binding you to his heart. You still vividly remembered the day you two kissed for the first tims. It was a starless night at the Butterfly Estate and you were recovering from your last mission.

Giyuu blamed himself for not having accompanied you and kept on self-deprecating for always making the same fatal mistakes. The mistakes only you knew about.

“I could have lost you. Just like I have lost him” he had bitterly uttered, teary eyes inspecting your beaten visage. Countering back something was pointless. Giyuu never displayed emotions around other people. But he did with you and you knew that nothing could have truly made him change his mind, therefore you had boldly cupped his face in your hands and captured his chapped lips with yours. Amazement, awe, the feeling of floating and being loved for the first time ever engulfed you two.

The monsters keeping him awake at night, the guilt of having had his life spared by fate, or better, for having left Sabito alone in the wood had temporary evaporated.

You had fallen asleep in his arms that very night. It had became a habit of yours, slumping down next to him and nuzzling your face onto the crook of his neck. It was hard resting without his body keeping you warm at night.

And just like you always did, that night you walked up to him and straddled his lap. By the look in your eyes and the way Giyuu swallowed forcefully, you could tell something was different, though. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, when you shifted slightly to adjust your position on him. You felt his breath hitching and you batted your eyes closed for several seconds. You could feel the spark between you two, the air getting thin. It was suddenly so hard to breathe.

“Giyuu” you called out his name feebly, making sure he was fine.

It took a moment for him to answer, his hands resting comfortably on your hips to make sure you were really there “I need to know that whatever is going to happen in the future, you will always remember this moment”he softly said then, sending shivers down your spine. How could you ever forget it?

A small smile crept on your lips, half-lidded eyes peeking at him as you cupped his face in your hands and planted a chaste, brief kiss on his parted lips “I could never forget it. Not even in another life” you breathed out, fueling his confidence. You were the only one who had ever managed to make him appreciate himself, as much as it was possible. You knew that some wounds could not completely heal, but you had always tried to mend them, you always did your best to soothe him and save him from the demons pestering his mind.

Saving him somehow meant saving yourself.

The Water Pillar sighed and smashed his lips against yours, earning a breathy gasp from you. Your fingers tangled in his silky, black hair, tugging at them slightly to encourage him to deepen it. It was passionate, emotional even, and you felt your heart burn in your chest, when Giyuu wrapped his hand around your wrist and led it down.

You frowned, eyes opened in curiosity, until you realized that he had settled it to lay flat over his bare chest. You blushed and you could tell he was worried, maybe. You could feel his heart thrumming rhythmically underneath his ribcage, a lullaby you had learnt to fall asleep to through the months.

“Are you sure that you want this?” the Water Hashira mumbled, drawing invisible patterns with his thumb over the back of your hand.

You smiled and nodded your head vigorously “With every inch of my heart” you confirmed.

Giyuu squeezed your hand gently, his heart-rate increasing notably at the sound of your voice “Does it mean that you trust me?” he asked, staring deep into your glimmering eyes.

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, so uncertain, so thready. Years spent in believing you do not deserve to be alive, undergoing degrading profanities thrown at your face, and enduring loneliness without anyone to stick by your side could deeply demage someone. Given instance, Giyuu Tomioka was broken beyond repair.

“I trust you” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his one.

Words became unnecessary, at this point. You believed in him, you trusted him wholeheartedly and that was already enough.

In a nick of time, his calloused fingers undid the bendages around your torso and your breasts were exposed to his soft eyes. Your nipples stood uptight, as the cool night breeze coming from the window pierced and bit your exposed skin. It was such a delightful sight to behold for him. You let him explore your body, his fingers roaming down your curves and his lips planting wet, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, until their grazed your nipples.

You moaned, batting your eyes closed as the tip of his fingers traced the irregular outlines of the small scars you had collected during years of slaying demons. You flinched under his touch, your eyes watering as he praised your beauty continously under his breath, your skin a canvas for him to print kisses over.

“Are you sure I am desirable?” you asked him, burying your face onto the crook of his neck.

Giyuu snorted and grasped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at his face “You are a goddess. Don't you dare claiming otherwise” he deadpanned, cutting you off with a kiss before you could have the chance to retort something.

You flushed in embarrassment, one of his hands working on his belt to unbuckle it hastily. He wanted you, but above anything else he felt the urge to let you know how much you worthed, how deeply he loved you and your glorious body. Giyuu was rather quiet, sometimes it was better for him to act than translate his feelings in words.

In a blink of an eye, you were laying on your back, your pants now discarded somewhere behind you. His cold hand slided underneath your panties, goosebumps raising on your naked legs as he approached your aching core. It felt right. Giyuu was the one.

Blue eyes met yours and you squealed out in pleasure, when his fingers drew figures eight on your bundle of nerves. He was nervous, yet gentle and, when he saw he was successfully pleasuring you, he grew more confident in his actions.

He shot you a knowing glance, before slipping your panties off and, when you bit your lower lip nodding at him, he wasted no time in accomplishing his duty of a caring lover. Anything you wanted, he was going to give it to you.

“Gorgeous, just gorgeous...” he whispered again, his index grazing down at your entrance. He had always felt out of place, as if he did not belong anywhere, but right now the center of his world was right in front of his eyes. You were his happy place in the world. Therefore, for the first time ever, he felt home.

You mewled under his touch, rosy cheeks and shaking legs waiting for him to make his move, to mark you as his for there was nothing more you desired more.

The raven-haired man smiled weakly at you and slowly slided his finger into your aching core, earning a strained moan from you. It was a blissful moment, a glimpse of the bright future laying ahead of you two. You had no idea for how long you were going to be together, considering the life you had chosen to live, but it would have been such a miraculously blissful and dreamy journey.

When he decided to add another finger to stretch you out better before the act, you sighed in content and bucked your hips up in frustration. You yearned for more, for him, for everything.

“Giyuu, please... – you whined, gripping the bedsheets underneath you so tightly that you thought you were going to rip them – I want you” you said, out of breath, eyes glistening in sheer lust and love.

Giyuu obliged to your request and, resting his elbows at each side of your head, he shoved his lenght inside you. A throaty moan fell from his lips, resounding into the bedroom of the Wisteria House you were currently quartering in. He filled you up completely, your walls squeezing him perfectly, as he conquered you inch by inch. Conntected, at least, for the very first time.

You had never seen Giyuu in such a miserable condition. He was barely keeping himself together, sweat beaded his forehead as he stayed still to let you adjust to his size. Your needs came before his ones. The look of adoration in your eyes, the way you kissed him lovingly, wrapping your legs around his waist, made him lose his cool, though.

He did not speak, instead he pulled out of you until only his tip was still buried in your heat before snapping his hips forward again. Your toes curled and you let out a sinful moan of ecstasy, eyes rolling back to your skull.

A few slow and deep thrusts followed, eliciting grunts and pleas from you. You were a moaning mess underneath him, his slow and passionate rhythm sending you to cloud nine. Was it possible falling in love all over again, every second you spent with the same person, with him? It was and it was pretty clear how deeply you trusted him, when, before you both got to reach your climax, you allowed him to wrap his hand around your throat.

Lewd noises and sacrilegious moans filled the air, but you had never felt more alive than now.

He came into you that night, collapsing beside you, drained, and unusually happy because you made him happy.

He turned towards you, silence swallowing you two for a few minutes. He was lost into a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating your weary face affectionately. You were the center of his Universe.

“I love you” he breathed out then, propping his head on the palm his hand to stare at you.

You chuckled softly, reaching out your hand to ruffle his hair jokingly before you spoke out your feelings once again “I love you too, baby”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The urge to show love to this man was eating me up from the inside and therefore I am, fixing a relatively old work of mine. As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection @shonen-brainrot @ladytamayolover @speedykittenpainter @youdidntseemehere21 @xxfelix-nightxx @doumadono

[coldairballoons]

i've seen a lot of people saying that saltburn (2023) isn't a commentary on class, and genuinely, i have to disagree.

keep in mind, i watched this at 3am last night with my sibling, but i'm also a literature major with a focus in literary criticism of popular culture (including film), so i do know what i'm talking about!

spoilers below the break

first of all, framing saltburn as a conflict between the upper class and lower class is incorrect. in fact, that in itself is one of the major criticisms that comes up throughout it! oliver is quite literally not lower class, but uses the preconception that the cattons will view anyone in a lower social class than them as a tool to manipulate his way into their life. despite this, he is not lower class. and you are not meant to root for him, especially not towards the end.

the marxist theory of literary criticism surrounds the idea that in every story, one of the key concepts is a class struggle. this could be between any class, but the most common is the rich vs poor duality that shows up in most stories - ex. titanic, the fall of the house of usher. the thing is, in both of those examples, the sympathy lies with the victims - the lower class. in titanic, you are meant to feel guilty on behalf of the rich leaving the lower class to die. in usher, you are meant to feel anger towards the mistreatment of those who seek out the treatment the family offers. but while usher is a clear criticism of class, is that its main genre? is is purely a class struggle movie? no. it is a story inspired by edgar allan poe that surrounds horrors of family, trauma, and yes, class, but also morality. meanwhile titanic is supposedly a romance. though jack dawson is young and poor, he is not the only sympathetic character. what i'm saying here is that media is incredibly layered, and while on the surface level, something may not be entirely a class conflict story, those undertones exist throughout, no matter what. even take hit series percy jackson for example. there is still a class discussion to be had there, with percy and his mom struggling with finances, while annabeth and her father live comfortably.

but saltburn is interesting, because the antagonist throughout the entirety of it is, as far as the audience knows, lower class. you are introduced to him, not through judgement for his living condition, but through compassion and generosity. felix offers him a hand, even when he isn't in the same group as him. that in itself is a criticism of class dynamics.

listen. i hate rich people as much as the next gen-z college student. i personally have a hit list with many a billionaire's name right at the very top. but it's undeniable that, despite the class difference, the cattons - at least venitia and felix - are kind to oliver at first. obviously, he is a part of the other, but he is still a person. elspeth enjoys his presence. james treats him as a son. farleigh feels threatened by his presence, because he knows that, if they so choose, they could replace him with oliver.

i want to talk about farleigh for a second.

i literally have not seen anyone talk about farleigh, and i am upset about it. not only is he one of the most compelling characters - a supposed american slacker who lives with his extended family and blows their money on lavish means -, but he is important in the class discussion because it affects him directly. the cattons do not support his mother. she is in america, and although they have the ability to, they actively choose not to. the reason felix is bothered when farleigh implies that it is, in fact, a "race thing", is because it is. why is farleigh the one dependent on the cattons, and risking expulsion from the family? because he is the first other that they encounter.

and then pamela, who not only has sought help from the cattons, but disappears midway through with no explanation. she goes directly from rehab to them, and although she is trying to find a place to live on her own, the cattons offer her no assistance. they offer her nothing, and complain when she is in their space. they offer her NO help, when they so easily could set her up with a small flat and monthly allowance to help her find a job.

and not only is this a criticism of the upper class - the inactivity and extremely single-minded worldview that the cattons have, the amount that they are out of touch with not only the outside world and the lower class, but their own emotions -, it's also a criticism of the upper middle class.

as someone currently in college, whose parents are a college professor and a high school teacher, i am fairly middle class. however, there are so many people in my immediate vicinity - folks i know from high school, in my classes, extended family, etc., - who are Extremely upper middle class. however, they have the comfort of certain things that i, and my family, don't have. that's just part of life. however, in saltburn, oliver milks the "middle" in his "upper middle" class. he milks it, and he runs it absolutely dry.

someone truly in his alleged position would not be able to spend the summer lavishly and hedonistically gallivanting around the countryside of england, playing tennis and smoking cigarettes by the lake. hell, someone in my middle class position wouldn't be able to do that either, especially not while attending oxford fucking university. he would likely need to work, not just to support himself, but to support his mother, especially after - again, allegedly - his father died. and not only is this coming from a place of an oversight on his part, not realizing what his privilege truly is, but it also comes from a place of oversight on the part of the cattons.

do i think that saltburn is a movie about class? nope. at its core, it's a story about a desire for power and possession, ownership and obsession. there is this intense, almost vampiric lust throughout the entire thing, and that's in part what makes it the perfect setting for discussions of sexuality, of madness, and, honestly, class. wealth is power, and the cattons have a lot of it.

[optiwashere]

Please write your thoughts about the importance of Shadowheart for Shar/Selûne :D

I FEED on character analysis.

SO!!!! This got long as fuck and also morphed into what you asked + a general character interpretation.

I relied on a combination of 2nd, 3rd, and 5th edition D&D lore, R.A. Salvatore novels, and of course BG3 as sources. Shadowheart's characterization adds up the most coherently on the purely romance / "get her away from Shar" path, and that is what I'm using as a basis for this post. Even when you're playing an "evil" route, she behaves in ways that betray a lot of what I get into under the break. This post, however, is biased towards the "good" path of her personal quest for the sake of my sanity and a somewhat reasonable word count.

First, a preamble for people that are maybe less knowledgeable about Forgotten Realms lore.

One of the biggest characterizations of Shar and Selûne in the Forgotten Realms is that they are twin sides of the same thing: night. Night as an aesthetic is symbolic of, among other things: mysteries, being lost without guidance (such as in faith or purpose), and finding oneself when one reaches for the truth. I.e., reaching light from the moon, stars, or daybreak (which is itself a symbol as the natural conclusion of darkness being light for redemption following suffering, goodness defeating evil, finding faith, etc.)

Shar and Selûne are sisters that also share the Night domain in 3e, a sort of fulcrum they both work around — Shar as the "malevolent" darkness with Selûne as the "benevolent" night. There is even a recognized heresy called the Dark Moon heresy in both cults/religions that Shar and Selûne are actually the same goddess playing one gigantic trick on Faerûn (this comes from a 3.5e splatbook called Power of Faerûn) but it's been pushed time and time again that the two sisters are, in fact, two separate entities. But duality of divinity, and how worshipers interpret their god, is a theme we see played up a ton in BG3.

What we know about Shar is that she despises her sister. Loathes her. Not only does she loathe her, she tricked Selûne's followers during the Time of Troubles, about 140 years before BG3, into worshiping her instead of the Moonmaiden. The Time of Troubles was a period when gods walked the Realms, rather than tossing avatars around everywhere. This lead to the formation of a fanatical group of cultists that followed the real Selûne, called the Lunatics (I'm still proud of managing to reference them in a goddamn Explicit PWP fic)

Meanwhile, Selûne is seen as a calming force. She wars with her sister every single night, and does not like her one bit, but she does it as a means to protect others from her sister rather than as a spiteful game. She's not as omnipresent in people's lives, she is just a natural force to a lot of her followers.

How does any of this relate to Shadowheart? Spoiler stuff and the actual character analysis under the break.

We know that Shadowheart was a "chosen" of Selûne as a child, per her parents' dialogue under the House of Grief. However, it's important to note that most religions in Faerûn name potential clerics as "chosen" ones of gods and goddesses.

We know that, throughout the game, Shadowheart learns that she is being manipulated by the Lady of Loss to do acts that go against some sort of internalized moral code that Shadowheart has. We see her approval go up when you do good acts (as long as you ask for compensation, or if it's to help helpless people/animals) and we see her disapprove when you press her boundaries or act unjustly cruel. "Unjust" is left so vague because she does not behave at all according to how the vast majority of Sharrans behave. There are numerous other flags for approval/disapproval such as her enjoying playful chaos, or disliking when you're too trusting of other companions when you first meet them, but we'll focus on the first set I mentioned.

We also know that Shadowheart was continually subjected to memory erasure via the cult of Shar in Baldur's Gate. This gets mildly restored here and there via the tadpoles and Dame Aylin, but her memory is mostly gone. So this moral code is something ingrained in her somehow, because Sharrans don't have kindness training. There's another entire character analysis to be written about Viconia's role in this as it relates to her own character in Baldur's Gate 2, but let's ignore that for now.

In the cloister under the House of Grief, there is a note you can find that outlines the squad sent to find the artifact that protects everyone from the Absolute's domination. The squad has a leader, and it is not Shadowheart. She is listed as "healer" and the text before this explicitly states that the entire squad is expendable. None of them matter to Shar.

BUT!

Divine visitation by a goddess is incredibly rare. It usually only happens to high level clerics, which Shadowheart isn't really even at 12th-level, and to those that the goddess has an extreme, vested interest in. If you free the Nightsong/Dame Aylin instead of killing her, Shadowheart is wrenched out of the Material Plane and made to suffer for an indeterminate amount of time. That, plus literally meeting Shar in the conclusion to her personal question, is very odd given what we know about Shadowheart.

If we presume that Larian did their jobs, and I'm going to because I trust them, then there is an immediate dilemma presented here. Either Shadowheart matters to Shar (she is not expendable), or she is just another zealot (she is expendable.) There is no half-truth in that logic table that really works for Shar, she's an absurdly dogmatic goddess. See: literally any Sharran you encounter in BG3 that isn't Shadowheart. It's possible that the writer of the note didn't know what they were talking about, but I think that's a lazy out that doesn't hold water with the rest of the evidence.

So, which is it? This being the part where I'm mostly in interpretation territory, Shar views Shadowheart as the perfect puppet, a toy to needle at her sister, not because she is important at all as a person, but because she's a representation of Selûne that Shar can mold to suit her image as she did in the Time of Troubles. We hear that in the game when Shadowheart basically says that she was just a thing for Shar to use. She's beaten into (what Shar believes will be) submission for not becoming a Dark Justiciar, but it only serves to sever the tie between cleric and goddess.

Shadowheart is Shar's answering play to Selûne beating that trick from the Time of Troubles, and there will be another Shadowheart after her eventual death. Shadowheart is both incredibly important and utterly worthless to Shar in the same way that an abuser uses affection and trust to hurt their victims. Love bombs in the form of divine power, sending her on this important mission, and offering the title of Dark Justiciar are followed by pain when Shadowheart displeases her. As if, on a whim, all that supposed mutual respect could turn into non-consensual, extreme violence.

Shadowheart is an objectified opportunity for Shar to fuck with Selûne for the entirety of a single half-elf's lifespan (anywhere from 150-200 years) and nothing more. A plaything to discard when all is said and done after a microcosm of time where a goddess is concerned. Whatever Shadowheart thinks she's benefiting from with Shar, it's all a trick. It's a massive delusion with which she's been brainwashed into participating.

And deep down, deep deep way deep down, Shadowheart knows this even in Act One. She spouts random sayings and the sorts of 2edgy4me one-liners that you would expect from a somewhat goth-y, slightly sassy Stock Evil Cleric in a fantasy RPG. For a good portion of Act One, you wouldn't be wrong to assume she's extremely one note and a total zealot. That is, unless you know two things:

That Shar is a fucking menace in Faerûn, and nothing good ever comes naturally from her cult. Anyone that knows FR lore was probably like me when they first interacted with Shadowheart. I know I basically said, "What the fuck, you're not a Sharran lmao. Either Larian goofed hard, or something's fishy here."

That extraordinarily devout people tend not to babble in verse, prayer, and all that unless they are also trying to convince themselves to have more faith in a set of beliefs that they're not entirely sold on. This isn't 100% of the time, but it's something you see in people whose faith is not very strong. People who have ironclad faiths and hold consistent ideologies tend to rely more on personal interpretation of faith, for good or ill. You see this all over BG3 in the people that are more confident in their beliefs, as well. Isobel, Orin, and Z'rell are three wildly different angles on that, for example. It's really all over the game in the NPCs.

That second point is the more important one here. Shadowheart, in Act One, is constantly talking about her goddess. If she's not hiding the artifact from you, she's couching an event in concern over what Shar would think of how she behaved. Like she's still a scared child who doesn't know how to handle what's happening around her despite being completely capable in scenarios as hectic as melee combat with ogres. The difference shines bright as day if you play a follower of Selûne and push back on her beliefs, though you do of course get a lot of vitriol in the beginning. Even so, it's clear that Shadowheart knows something is off about Shar whenever confronted with actual Sharran activity/belief, but she's been brainwashed and abused so horrendously that she constantly tries to "correct" herself to appease her abuser.

Selûne, however, isn't really a "part" of Shadowheart's quest in the same way as Shar. The Moonmaiden is not an active participant, she is not a guiding hand or even a faint idea in Shadowheart's thought processes because of how intense the memory blending got for her. The most we ever really get of Selûne's opinion comes from external sources (pretty much entirely from Shadowheart's parents, Isobel, and Aylin when she's not PROCLAIMING DIVINE RIGHTS.) To the Moonmaiden, Shadowheart is really just another of her many, many children spread throughout the Realms. Yet, Shadowheart retains that sense of inherent goodness that Selûne instils in her followers.

Unlike the Lady of Loss, Selûne's indifference isn't hateful or spiteful at all. For Selûne, the ultimate goal of any of her followers is to find themselves. To illuminate who they are meant to be by moonlight. Two of her domains in 3rd edition are Protection and Travel, and in 5e she has Knowledge as well, while one of her "mantles" (the domain equivalent for psionics) is Freedom. She wants to give her followers the ability to freely tread whichever road will lead to self-actualization.

Selûne demands almost nothing of her own followers so long as they act according to the basic tenets of a traditionally Chaotic Good deity. She accepts flaws, faults, and failures in her clerics as much as she rewards strengths, virtues, and victories. There is no divine intervention from Selûne because she accepts Shadowheart intrinsically as long as Shadowheart finds herself. All it took for Selûne to take Shadowheart back after forty years of being a fanatical Sharran was saving one person, and trusting one of two people that we know she's let in for that forty years (the PC, as well as possibly Nocturne) — Selûne sees that she's an abuse victim at the heart of it all.

Side-note: Selûne's primary holy symbol is two eyes surrounded by stars. She is always a passive witness to her clerics' deeds. I don't think I need to get into that symbolism.

Whenever given the chance, Shadowheart values freedom incredibly highly. Even in someone she can take the entire game to warm up to, such as Lae'zel. Her dialogue after Lae'zel denounces Vlaakith speaks directly to this. It's seen repeatedly in her comments on other characters' personal quests such as Astarion, or Karlach, and with Lorroakan's intent on imprisoning Aylin in Act 3.

Once Shadowheart is pulled away from Shar's influence in the end of Act 2/early Act 3, she is... not a completely different person, but she is absolutely a calmer individual that also allows her emotions to surface more intensely. If you're romancing her by Act 2, she confesses that she wants to be with the PC (forever) IMMEDIATELY after being punished horrifically by Shar; she progresses the romance far faster once Shar is out of her brain; she cries, alone, in front of the PC if she chooses to listen to her parents and spare herself from Shar while also killing them. She's known this entire time that she's purposefully holding parts of herself back, and this is her immediate reaction to being set free.

Of course, it's a video game and things aren't always perfectly paced, especially considering the implementation of the Long Rest system. Much of this interpretation requires you to accept that.

After the small dialogue about Shar's intervention after the Gauntlet, the narrator comments that you're not sure if telling Shadowheart where her divine power now comes from will break her spirit forever. That's interesting, and it makes her almost manic change to "I have to be with this person forever" in the romance so utterly sad. Shadowheart is an almost textbook depiction of someone who struggles immensely with vulnerability and emotional openness due to childhood neglect and abuse. Even worse, she's been suffering that neglect and abuse for forty-plus years and she cannot remember what life was like before the time when she constantly yearned for the approval of her abuser. When she's set free and given the appropriate space to manage her feelings (all of the times she asks to be given space/asks the PC to respect her boundaries), support from friends and loved ones in the way Larian handled the camp crew's reactions to everyone's personal quests, and a purpose in life that extends beyond her abuser, she flourishes almost immediately.

To Selûne, Shadowheart is simply another person finding themselves in a world that's incredibly difficult to navigate. Under Shar's domination, Shadowheart will never be anything more than a useful puppet that dances happily whenever her goddess asks, pleased to be what she thinks is useful as she wears the false title of Dark Justiciar. With Selûne watching but not pushing, Shadowheart can be free of everything but her own choices, her own mistakes and victories. Her own person, freed from expectation.

P.S. "Breaking out of toxic thought patterns" is a common thread in the companion romances and quests. In a similar way to how Astarion uses sexuality to mask a part of himself in his romance, Shadowheart sees all this time she's spent holding herself back as an excuse to reverse course and accelerate ridiculously fast by comparison.

My point is, she is a U-Haul Lesbian.

[bandtrees]

mp100 is a very very kind show, i love how compassionate it is and how forgiving it is, but i also love how hard it hammers in that there’s no such thing as a perfect person with endless bounds of patience and forgiveness, and that living your life only to please others isn’t living much at all.

the confession arc is very special to me for this reason, and below the cut is some analysis as to why! obviously, this contains spoilers for all three seasons of mp100.

the confession arc takes mob, this very kind loving sweet person who’s compassionate and has been able to see good in and treat with kindness people like mogami, touchirou, etc, and tells you... hey! this kid actually has (reasonable) building resentment and unresolved issues from being constantly people-pleasing and forgiving and not really acknowledging peoples’ flaws!

and no, it’s not a case of mob having this evil dark side who hates everyone, it’s just a case of mob... being human! expecting him to brush off the way reigen treats him and the way he and teru met and the danger to his life shou and touchirou were, as compassionate and mature as he is about them, isn’t realistic! because no human person is just a walking well of love and forgiveness, and for as mature as mob is, he’s still only a kid!

mob, as ???%, is very violent towards teru and reigen, and i choose to interpret this as how intensely he’s repressed his unresolved resentment for them that he swallowed down in favor of forgiveness and being the bigger person - the wider theme of mp100. we never really see mob express any discomfort around teru for nearly killing him, or around reigen for lying to him and generally treating him like trash sometimes, or around shou for burning his house down... and while i can’t express enough how important the messages of compassion and forgiveness are in this story, i think it’s also equally important to see, in ???%’s rampage, it’s not some evil side of mob or some shadowy separate personality in his body who’s deciding to hurt teru and reigen, it’s mob himself, because he never unpacked his conflicting emotions towards them, and now, when he can’t control himself, they’re running wild.

and this isn’t me saying teru and reigen are horrible people who never earned mob’s forgiveness. of course not! they’re very important people to him, he cares for them a great deal, they help to bring mob down from his violent episode... but as we hear in the mogami arc...

mob, kind as he is, isn’t some all-forgiving, forever-loving kid, and the same goes for his relationships with others. he cares about teru as a friend, he has resentment towards him for what he did that he never unpacked until now - these things coexist!

and there’s the ultimate catharsis when reigen tells the truth about himself, revealing to mob that he’s a complete liar who’s been using and exploiting him from the beginning. he lied to him from the day they met, and those lies ultimately led to the disaster in seasoning city that we’re seeing now. it was mob’s honest belief that reigen was a strong, powerful adult who had everything figured out -

- that led to him being unable to accept the contradictions within himself, and so reigen laying those bare, the fact that he’s a liar and an exploiter, that he too, this person mob has admired and learned from for the whole series, has a part of himself he hates for how it thinks of other people, is what’s able to let mob finally accept himself. 

reigen being a liar doesn’t make him an evil monster who deserves nothing but mob’s resentment - and in turn, mob destroying the city and trying to kill his friends doesn’t make him a violent, hateful murderer. it makes him and mob flawed humans, whose relationship couldn’t ever have healthily continued if those things weren’t unpacked - if reigen never honestly confessed about who he was, if mob kept forgiving reigen without looking inward to ask how he felt. at best, it would have been shallow and dishonest for them both until the end, and at worst... well, mob wouldn’t have been able to repress his emotions, dangerous as they are the more he hides them, forever...

this is why the scene of mob breaking down and crying is so important to me. finally, he feels safe expressing ugly, crude, selfish emotions. until now, when we see mob cry, it’s either tasteful tears running down his face, not changing much of his actual expression, or the complete opposite direction in exploding and bawling his eyes out with 100% sadness and 100% rejection - either mob’s emotions are pretty and subdued, or soul-crushing explosions he has no control over.

(sidenote: 100% rejection is one of the coolest explosions in the series to me and i wish it was talked about more!)

now, though, with the reassurance that he can cry, full-on cry, and it won’t hurt anyone, that he isn’t some selfish evil for being a middle school boy devastated he got rejected by his crush, that he’s allowed to feel broken up and miserable and have it not be an explosion that destroys the city... he cries! he feels all those negative emotions he’d held back, and because he feels safe expressing them, they’re not dangerous at all, they’re just... again, a middle school boy crying because he got rejected by his crush.

mob’s emotions, on their own, aren’t dangerous. it’s his refusal to express them, and the violent outbursts that leads to, that is.

something i love so much about mob psycho 100′s ending is that it’s not an ending at all. it’s just the beginning - finally, after three seasons, mob can actually feel and safely express his emotions. he can be on even footing with teru, reigen, all of them. he can start balanced, open, communicative relationships with those around him, showing that the compassion mp100 preaches goes far deeper than simply forgiving those who hurt you, or giving people chances.

mob’s kindness is so, so, so important to me, and where season 2 was about extending kindness to others, culminating in mob sitting down with touchirou after deciding that letting him die alone would only have been needlessly cruel and reinforcing the man’s worldview that he needed nobody, and that extending kindness towards him was what he needed to properly change - season 3, culminating in mob confronting the parts of himself that may have wanted to leave touchirou behind, is about extending kindness to yourself.

[bloatedandalone04]

If I Love You Was A Promise

➪the one where james’ brother comes home just when things were falling into place.

Warnings: literally nobody is going to read this - pretty much self indulgent tbfh, spoilers for american heist 2014, swearing, mentions of killing, mentions of drugs, alcohol consumption, arguments, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood/wounds, toxic enviroment overall,

Word Count: 6k | Part 2 , Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

It was nearing nine when the sound of the front door unlocking was heard, and you smiled to yourself when you heard the heavy footsteps of James as he entered the house. 

This was your favorite part of the day, when he comes home and spends the rest of his night with you. 

You hear the sound of the door being locked again as you called out, “Hey, I missed you,” 

James unbuttons his work shirt and tosses it over the back of one of the chairs. The house was small, so he was standing behind you within three strides and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Missed you,”

You grin and tilt your head to the side when he leaned down to press his lips to your neck. “I’m making your favorite,” you say and feel him hum against your shoulder. “And you smell like motor oil.”

James laughed and lifted his head, his lips pressing to your temple as he mumbled, “Sorry. You get used to that smell once you’ve been around it as long as I have,”

You shrug as he steps away. “I don’t mind it,” you say and watch as he lifts his white undershirt over his head, exposing his toned chest and abs. “You’re sexy, so you get a pass.”

“Thanks, baby,” he grinned at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek before wandering off towards the bathroom.

“You’ve got five minutes until dinner will be ready, so don’t be too long,” you call after him as you stir the ground beef around in the pan. “We both know how grumpy you get when it comes to cold food.”

He calls back a muffled, “Alright,” and you were left smiling to yourself as you got out the fillings for tacos. 

Fifteen minutes later James was sitting on the same chair he tossed his shirt on, and you were perched on his lap like it was your throne, and it kind of was. You lean back against him as you bring the perfectly wrapped taco up to his lips, your palm catching the bits of filling that fell from the wrap. 

You pop them into your mouth and wrap your arm around his shoulders as you settle against him. “Did you have a good day?” You ask once you finished chewing, setting the half eaten taco down on the plate so you could wrap your other arm around him. 

“It was alright,” James answered and wrapped his own arms around your middle. “Heard back from the bank people.”

You perk up at that. “You did? What did they say?” You ask. “Did they agree to loan you the money?”

James can’t look you in the eye when he mumbles, “No,” as he felt embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with the amount of money he needed to start his own repair business. 

He was also embarrassed that he was barely making enough money to get the two of you by. No matter how much overtime he put in at Lewis’ Auto, no matter how many hours he worked, he still found himself scavenging for funds. He was embarrassed beyond words at his current financial situation, but you made it all seem better somehow. 

James knew you didn’t care how much, or how little, he made. You weren’t with him for his money, as you made a pretty cent from your own job as an assistant manager at a popular restaurant in town. New Orleans held some pretty low quality restaurants and pubs, and you got lucky to be hired at one of the nicer ones.

James wasn’t a fan of where he lived and didn’t like the idea of you working near the run down locations by your shared home, so to know you were in the safer part of town for the most part of your day was reassuring, to say the least.

Despite the unfortunate news that his offer had been rejected by yet another bank, you just sat up a bit straighter and reached up to flatten out his still damp hair. “That’s okay,” you assure him. “We’ll figure something else out.”

Of course, you were disappointed, because you are his number one supporter when it comes to his dream of starting his own business, but you also knew how tough it can be to catch a break when someone has a past like James’.

You had never and will never judge him for what he did in the years before he met you, but you also understood why he was having such a hard time finding someone who was willing to lend him the starting fund he needed to begin his business. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he moved his hands so they were resting on your hips. 

“Yes,” you nod and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “J Kelly Auto will happen eventually.”

“I love you,” he can’t help but say. “You know that? I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I love you, too,” you say back. “And that’s all that matters.”

James gives you a grateful smile and nod before asking, “How was your day?”

You shrug. “It was fine. I got a decent amount of tips, one elderly couple gave me a thirty dollar tip, can you believe that?” You ask and watch as he shakes his head at you. “Thirty dollars, and all because I said that they reminded me of us. I told the man that he was like an older version of my boyfriend, and then he gave me three tens when he came up to the counter to pay.” 

“Wow,” James hummed, running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “I hope I can spare thirty bucks when I’m his age. How old did you say he was?”

“I don’t know, I’d guess he’s in his late seventies,” 

James let out a low whistle. “I have just over forty years to save up enough money so I can give out thirty dollar tips to cute managers,”

You roll your eyes and reach over to pick up the small bits of ground beef that were left on the plate, sprinkling the crumbs into your mouth before correcting him, “Assistant manager,” you mumble as your hand traces over the tattoo on his arm, the simple font displaying your birth year. He had gotten the tattoo for you about seven months into your relationship, and for the past three years, it quickly had become one of your favorite pieces of artwork that adorned his body. 

He shakes his head again and hugs you tighter against him. “Same difference,”

“Oh, I meant to tell you earlier,” you begin and sit up, wiping the excess crumbs from off your hand. “My car is making a weird noise whenever I turn left. I noticed it this morning after you went to work, and I was going to stop by Lewis’ but I was running late.”

James nods and runs his hands up your back. “Okay, I’ll take a look at it before I leave tomorrow,” he offers. “Maybe I’ll take your car to work with me and you can use mine while I fix yours.”

You give him a look of surprise. “Really? You’d let me drive the Duster?” 

He nods, closing his eyes as he brushes his nose against yours. “You’d be surprised at the things I’d let you get away with, baby,”

You hum softly, moving your body so you are straddling him. “I guess that makes me the lucky one,” you mumble before leaning in and connecting your lips in a searing kiss. 

-

The sight you were met with when you returned home from work the next day was one you weren’t expecting. After parking James’ beloved Duster on the side of the road next to the house, you find the door unlocked as you enter the house and shrug off your jacket. 

James was sitting at the piano, and you took notice of how dark it was in the house, with the only light source coming from the lamp in the kitchen. “Hey, Jamie,” you quietly greet him as you place your jacket on the back of the chair. “The chef made too many servings of cannelloni tonight, and guess who got to take the leftovers home?” 

You knew James loved it when you cooked him homemade food, but you also knew you weren’t as skilled in the kitchen as the staff at the restaurant, so there was a handful of food you weren’t able to make yourself. Cannelloni was one of them, and they were also one of his favorite items on the menu, so you expected he would be happy to hear you got to bring some home. 

He was sitting at the piano but wasn’t playing anything. In fact, his hands were placed in his lap, and when he turned his head to look up at you, the state of his face had you stepping back with a gasp. 

“Jesus, James,” you say in shock, blindly reaching behind you to flip the lightswitch. With the lights now on, you had a clear view of his face and the damage that had been done to it. The skin around his right eye was a light shade of red, and you could see a bruise starting to form. His lower lip had a small cut on it as well, and there was a bit of dried blood still on his chin. “What the hell happened?”

“I fixed your car,” he said. You step towards him again and gently grip his face, turning it so the light was shining directly on him. As you examine his injuries, you take his hand in yours, and it was then when you saw that his knuckles were bruised as well. “Frankie’s back home.” Was all he had to say and you felt your shoulders tense up.

His brother was let out of jail? That in itself was surprising, but not nearly as shocking as the fact that he only had to spend ten years behind bars for killing a cop. James served sixteen months, so you guess you had Frankie to thank for taking the majority of the blame and keeping his little brother out of jail for a decade. If he hadn’t, you would’ve never met him, so you were somewhat thankful for the man, despite only knowing him through James’ stories of him.

“Is that a good thing?” You ask, fearing you already knew the answer, if his face was anything to go by. 

“It’s never a good thing with him,” 

He could say that again. 

You press your lips into a thin line before walking over to the small freezer and rummaging around in it. “Yeah, I guess not,” you mutter and make your way back over to him with a bag of frozen veggies in your hand. “I’m guessing he did this to your face?”

His silence was the only answer you needed, and you sighed as you gently placed the bag against the sore skin around his eye. 

“You know, the more I learn about this guy, the less I want to meet him,” you say under your breath and watch him wince at the cold feeling against his face. 

“I can’t say I actually want you to meet him,” he replied. “I mean, he’s my brother, but I haven’t seen him in ten years. I know I’m not the same person I was a decade ago, but something tells me he didn’t change at all.”

You nod in agreement. “No, you’re not the same person,” you press a kiss to the top of his head as he wraps his arms around your middle. You stood between his legs as he sat at the piano bench, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. “But, you know, maybe I should go and meet this guy, hear what his excuse is for hitting your pretty face.”

James, like you hoped, laughed at that and rested the other side of his face against your stomach. “I’m keeping you as far away from him as I can,” he says and you can’t help but smile at his protectiveness over you. “I don’t need him fucking up what we’ve worked for these past three years. I won’t let him.”

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, and he won’t, because in case you haven’t noticed; I’m with you. Through everything, I’m on your side,” you promise. “As long as you don’t shut me out, I’m all in.”

James lifted his head and gave you the most grateful look you had ever seen, before standing up and dropping the frozen bag onto the bench. His hands find home on your hips and he dips down to press his lips to yours, ignoring the slight sting that shot through his cut. 

You rest your hands on his chest as he deepens the kiss, letting his mouth tell you all the words he couldn’t form in that moment. He was frustrated and pissed off about Frankie’s sudden return, and even more agitated that Frankie hadn’t even been out of jail for more than a day before he was already trying to rope him back into that lifestyle he no longer wanted any part in. 

He had already made a mess of his face, and to make matters worse, James had a meeting with the bank tomorrow to see if he could talk his way into receiving a loan to get him started on his business. While he didn’t regret getting his tattoos, some of them were questionable, and he was already planning to wear long sleeves to cover them up, but now he’d have to show up with a busted lip and the start of a black eye. 

You’re the first to pull away, but you keep your forehead pressed to his as you say, “Promise me that you won’t let him ruin what you’ve been working so hard for,” you plead. “You’ve been through too much to let it all go to waste.”

James keeps his eyes closed as he mumbles, “I promise,” 

“And if things go wrong or get out of hand or whatever, please,” you start, pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “Don’t shut me out or push me away because you think I can’t handle it or something. I need you to be honest with me, always.”

James reaches up to caress the sides of your face as he nods and steps closer to you. “I promise,” he murmurs again and leans back down to kiss you. “I won’t let Frankie fuck this up for us. Not now and not ever.”

His words were spoken between kisses and you let him coax your worried thoughts out of your head as he backed you towards the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, you fall onto the bed and gently grip James’ biceps as he crawls on top of you.

He made you promise after promise as his lips traced over every inch of your body, and he reassured you for hours on end. While you were still nervous to know that Frankie was a free man now, James was really good at easing your mind and making you believe you had nothing to worry about. 

So, as he held you in his arms later that night, feeding you bites of the now cold cannelloni, you let your mind believe that Frankie was simply just his brother and not a convicted and selfish murderer. 

-

James had a hard time getting out of bed the following morning, but he forced himself to get up and dress himself in his best clothing, hoping to impress the bank teller during his interview he had in about an hour. 

He was nervous, but the quick kiss you gave him and your words of, “Good luck today, you’ll do great. Call me when it’s over, I love you,” was all he needed to feel ready enough to give it his best. 

Once you had left to go to work, he was on his own as he drove to the bank and tried to talk the teller into agreeing on a loan. He wasn’t sure why he thought this time would be different, but something about your hopeful voice and the need to please you had him believing he actually had a chance. 

He left the bank, tugging off his tie as he clicked on your contact. He knew your schedule pretty well now, and he knew you were on your break, so he wasn’t surprised that you picked up after only two rings. “Hi, Jamie!” Your cheerful voice had him squeezing his eyes shut as he sat down on the stairs that led up to the bank doors. “How did it go?”

James rubbed his forehead and sighed, dreading having to tell you the embarrassing news that he had been turned down yet again. “It went well,” he answered honestly. The interview did actually go pretty decently, but in the end, he just wasn’t good enough. 

And somehow you knew that, “But?” You drag the word out and he can hear you fumble around with something on the other end of the line. 

“But,” he started and looked up at the passing cars. “‘They don’t make small business loans anymore.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

In the break room at the restaurant, you bit down on your bottom lip as you looked over the schedule for the day. “I’m sorry, James, that really sucks,” you weren’t sure how to comfort him without being there with him in person. “Hey, don’t worry about it, someone else will loan you the money, it just takes time.”

Unbeknownst to you, just the sound of your voice brought him a large amount of comfort, and he already felt his mood lifting the longer you spoke to him.

“I’m off early today, Mikey is the supervisor for the next few days,” you explain and James smiled to himself, already knowing where this was heading. “Why don’t I meet you at the bar in a few hours? We can get drunk together and forget about the stupid person who wouldn’t know what a good investment is if it punched them square in the face.”

He laughed and bunched his tie up in his fist. “That sounds good to me, baby,”

“Great,” he could hear the grin in your voice. “Give me, like, three hours, then I’ll be off.”

James nodded even though you couldn’t see him. “Okay,”

“Okay,” he hears someone calling you, and he knew you had to wrap up the call soon. “Okay, well I gotta get back to work, but thank you for calling me. And I mean it, that investor doesn’t know how good they could’ve had it.”

He smiled again at that. “Thanks, sweet girl,”

“I love you, James,” you say softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he says back. “I love you, too.”

He waits until you end the call before standing up from the stairs, stuffing his phone in his pocket and making his way to his car. 

-

When James parked outside the bar and made his way inside, the last thing he expected to see was his brother sitting on the stool, clearly on his second or third drink. 

He guessed he’d have to get used to the sight since Frankie was a free man now, and was never one to turn down cheap drinks at a lesser known bar. 

James sighed and made his way over to the man, letting his brother pull him onto the stool next to his and wrap his arm around him. “Yo, I can’t believe this place is still in business, man,” he slurs and gives James a half-assed hand shake. “Yo, let me get another Jamison’s. Two, for me and my brother.”

Yeah, Frankie had definitely had more than one drink so far, if his unsteady stance was anything to go by. 

“My brother,” Frankie mumbles, sitting down again. “How you been, Jimmy?”

“It’s James now, alright? People don’t call me Jimmy no more,”

Frankie tilts his head at that. “No?” He asks, not giving him a chance to respond before he continues, “Okay, James. You all grown up now?”

James shook his head, his expression unimpressed as he asked, “What are you doing here, Frankie?”

His brother sighs and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft shove as he says, “Look, I know you’re upset, alright? You got a right to be,” he began, and James was already done with this conversation. “It’s just… I figured after all this time, you know?”

“Yeah? What’d you figure, Frankie?” James muttered, wanting to call you and ask for you to just pick up beer and take it back to the house so he could avoid you having to meet his brother. “What’d you figure? You’d come back and what?”

Frankie lit a cigarette and avoided the question. 

“I went to jail, Frankie,”

He was met with a glare. “Bro, you got off easy with sixteen months. I did ten years,”

“Yeah? And whose fault was that?” 

“Mine. It was mine, Jimmy,” Frankie had already gone back to using his past name, but James didn’t bother to correct him. “Every day I was in there, every fucking day, Jimmy, I thought about you.”

James wished he could be comforted by that, but now he just felt on edge. His brother was bad news, and he was quickly realizing that his release might not have been a good thing after all.

“I’m sorry, man. I want to make amends,”

“It’s not so easy, Frankie,”

“I know, I know,” his older brother grunts, reaching over to tug at the hair on James’ neck. “I’m so proud of you, Jimmy, really, I am.”

James shook his head as he watched the bartender pop the caps off the beer.

“I’m proud of you, Jimmy,” Frankie said again. “You’re a fucking good looking kid, man. I mean, I don’t know who mom fucked, but you lucked out.”

That actually had James laughing as he looked over at his brother, his eyes tired and guarded. 

Frankie took a drag from the cigarette. “You know how much I bragged about you? Everyone in D block knows about how you blew up all that stuff, man,” he continued, “You know what kind of street cred I got for having a brother who knows how to blow shit up, man?”

James sighed again at that, wanting to forget that part of his life. “Yeah, well, the world forgets fast, Frankie,”

“So we’ll make ‘em remember,” he puts out the cigarette on the surface of the bar. “I got a solution.” 

“You’ve got a solution?” James felt a sense of dread enter his body at that. He promised you he wouldn’t let his brother drag him back down to the person he once was, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. “Frankie, I’ve changed, alright?”

“Jimmy, I’ve changed,”

He found that hard to believe. “You’ve changed?”

“Yeah, I’ve done a lot of soul searching, really,” Frankie insisted. “I’m, like, Buddha and shit.”

Another laugh escaped James, and these were the kinds of conversations he missed during the last ten years. Just two guys being brothers and talking about the most random things, that was how he wanted to remember Frankie. That was the only thing he wanted to bring back from his past. 

“Believe me, I’ve had time to think, okay?”

James took the bottle that was being held out to him and grasped it with one hand, the cool glass calming down his hot skin. “Yeah, me too,” he said. “All that shit we did, I can’t go back to that. I’ve got a girl now, I’ve got a life. I made promises that I intend on keeping, man.”

Frankie looked surprised at that as he leaned away and rested his elbows on the bar. “A girl, huh?” He asked, bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips. “You been with  her long?”

“Yeah, three years, man,” James answered, feeling a bit panicked that you would have to actually meet his brother now. He was really regretting not calling you and taking the party back home before you even got here. “She’s great and she means a lot to me, alright? She’ll be here any minute and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give her a hard time.”

Frankie scoffed. “Why would I give her a hard time? She makes my little bro happy! I can’t wait to meet her,” he came off sounding more sarcastic than genuine.

James opened his mouth to plead with his brother, but the feeling of arm wrapping around his shoulders had him biting his tongue. “Hi, Jamie,” came your sweet voice, and he knew it was you by just your touch. 

He turned to you, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist as he tried to shield your body with his own. “Hi, baby,”

You look around him and narrow your eyes at the man smirking at you. “Who’s this?” But you had a feeling you already knew the answer. 

The man, who had more tattoos than James did, reached his arm over and held his hand out to you. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Frankie, I’m his brother,”

You hesitantly use your free hand to shake his, a nervous smile on your lips when you catch sight of his bruised knuckles. They were bruised because he had decided to re-enter his brother’s life by swinging his fist at him, and the thought had you pulling your hand away after a quick shake. “Y/n,” you say sharply, inching closer to your boyfriend and placing your hand on his thigh. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your words go straight to the older man’s head, and he nudges James with a sly grin. “Yeah, have you? You been bragging about me, too, Jimmy?” 

James shakes his head, hating that he had put you in this unbelievably awkward situation. You looked like you wanted to leave, and he had no problem leaving with you, but he also knew you didn’t want to be rude to his family member. You were nice like that, and he adored you for it, but this was one situation he would’ve preferred your bratty side to come out and whisk him back home. 

“I wouldn’t call it bragging,” you answer for him, furrowing your brows at his brother. “I hear you’re the one who marked his face up the day before his interview. Kind of fucked up, no?”

Frankie only half listened to you and turned to James with a surprised expression. “An interview? For what?”

James shrugged, not wanting to tell him what the interview was regarding. The last thing he needed was for him to know that he was hoping to start his own Auto business within the next couple of months. “I told you, man, I’ve changed,”

“I can see that,” Frankie gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “My brother.”

You were beginning to feel overwhelmed, and James knew it as he could feel your body tense up in his arms. He turns to you, protectively  hiding your body from the eyes of his brother. “How was the rest of your shift?” 

Appreciating the fact that he was trying to change the subject, as well as keep your mind off everything, you let yourself relax against the side of his body as his hands smoothed out your work shirt, complete with the logo of the restaurant sewed onto the right side of the chest area. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. “Missed you.” 

James leaned in and allowed you to close the remaining distance for a brief kiss. “Missed you,”

He ordered you a beer after that, and you did your best to keep your interactions with Frankie to a minimum. Seeing as James was sitting between you two, that wasn’t too hard to do. 

Until he decided he wanted to learn more about the girl who had taken over his little brother’s heart. “So, Y/n,” he began, leaning on the bar so he could look around James and at you. “What are you, a waitress, or something?”

He tips his beer bottle in the direction of the logo on your shirt. While you somewhat appreciated his interest in getting to know you, the mocking tone he used wasn’t taken well by James. “She’s the assistant manager,” he answers for you, and you were glad you didn’t have to speak to the man more than you already have. “That place would go to shit without her.”

You roll your eyes and gently slap his shoulder. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” you shrug and take a drink from your beer. “I just put in more hours than most people there and I guess that’s enough to impress my boss.”

James hated when you didn’t hype yourself up and flaunt your accomplishments, but he also knew why you usually kept quiet about those things. You weren’t one to brag, and you preferred to celebrate your successes behind closed doors with him. Still, he wished you could see just how important you are and felt confident enough to share your success.

James couldn’t help but do all the bragging for you, and maybe it was because it was still lost on him how a guy like himself could ever end up with a girl like you. “She’s being modest, man,” 

Frankie cocked his head and raised one brow as he asked, “Yeah? Assistant manager, huh? That’s great,”    

You gave him a forced smile, and you were thankful when your phone went off from its place inside your jean pocket. Grabbing it, you see it’s a call from the restaurant and you lean over, making James lean towards you as well out of habit. “It’s work,” you tell him. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and you leave the bar after pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. 

Not even a minute after you had excused yourself, Frankie was grabbing James’ attention again. “You’ve found yourself a good one, huh, Jimmy?” He teased and finished his third beer. “She’s great, really. Easy on the eyes, too, man.”

James glared at him, his fingers wrapping tighter around his own beer bottle. “Don’t,”

Frankie held his hands up in self defense. “Hey, bro, I’m just saying,” he says. “She’s a looker.”

James opened his mouth to defend you, but turned when he felt your hand on his arm. “Hey, Jamie,” you begin, giving him a guilty look. “That was Mikey, he needs me to cover someone’s shift.”

He gives you a somewhat hidden look of disappointment and runs his left hand up your back, his tattoo he got for you on full display in the dim lighting. 

“I’m sorry, I know we were supposed to get drunk together and forget about that stupid interviewer. If it helps, I was really looking forward to you taking me home later,” you say the last part directly next to his ear, so only he could hear it in the somewhat loud bar. “I’ll be home by ten at the latest, I promise.”

James, the understanding guy he had become, nods and pulls you a bit closer to say, “That’s fine, baby,” he then adds, “Are you okay to drive?” 

He knew you were a bit of a lightweight, and he could hold his alcohol a lot better than you could (he had Frankie to thank for introducing him to it at a young age), so he was prepared to drive you back to the restaurant if you needed him to. 

You just shook your head, not even having the chance to finish your beer before you had to leave. “Yeah, I’m good. Stay, hang out with your brother,” you give said brother a guarded look. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay,” James says and presses his lips to the side of your head in a quick kiss. “Be safe.”

“I always am,” you grin at him before quickly adding, “You too, please.”

You left shortly after that, bidding Frankie a quick goodbye before leaving the bar. “I like her,” he said and James scoffed, still wishing you hadn’t been given the chance to meet him. At least not yet. “She seems sweet, innocent.”

James finished his beer and turned to face his brother. “Enough, Frankie. Whatever you’re thinking about her, get it out of your head,” he muttered. “I’m trying to marry her, start a life together.”

Frankie leaned back on the stool. “Marry? Fuck, man, I didn’t realize it was that serious,” he said under his breath. “Look, just give the broad moms old ring and call it a day.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” James sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “I mean it. And moms ring is worthless compared to her. A cheap and ugly band that had no business leaving her finger. We should’ve buried her with it.”

“Hey, I had no part in that. I was locked up when she kicked the bucket, remember? Taking that thing off her finger wasn’t my idea,” Frankie muttered. A moment of silence passed before he got that look in his eye. “About before; I’m gonna make things right. You need money? To buy your girl a ring? I know two guys, good guys, alright, Jimmy? They really looked out for me in the joint.”

James hummed, already feeling on edge again now that he was alone with his brother. He knew you brought him comfort whenever you were near him, but he never expected to feel like this around his own flesh and blood. He wished he went home when you left. “What about ‘em?”

“We all want the same things,” Frankie began, lighting up another cigarette. “To overcome the obstacles.”

James gave him a weary look. “Frankie, I’m not doing nothing shady,”

Frankie took a swig of his fourth beer. “Shady? You call real estate shady?”

A snort escapes James. “Real estate?” He laughed. “What, you get yourself a fucking real estate license when you were locked up?”

Frankie curses him out, “I ain’t trying to be a fucking agent, bro, I’m the boss. I call the shots, cash the checks,” 

“In that cheap suit?”

“Fuck you, man,”

“Yeah, fuck you, too,”

A calmness passes by the brothers for a second or two. “I want to look out for you, man. Like the old days,” James didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would never go back to how he was in the old days again. “Me and you against the world, remember?”

“Its been ten years, Frankie,”

“So what? Let’s go flip some houses, bro,” for some reason, James was actually starting to believe the words his brother was saying, and he hoped that didn’t mean he was already beginning to slip back into his old ways. “Flip and fix.”

“And where are you getting the cash from?” 

“An investor,” Frankie answers and that grabs his attention more than anything else he had said tonight. “I got an investor. He’ll take most of it at first, but it’ll be a good start.”

James let his mind wander. 

An investor? That could be huge. He could start his business, buy you your ring, and get out of the house he barely called a home.

At the end of the day, Frankie was bad news, and James had a horrible feeling about all of this. 

Still, would he really lead him down a bad road just a few days after he got out of jail? He really wanted to believe that his brother truly did change in the last ten years. 

Before he could answer, Frankie was getting up. “Come on. I want you to meet my boys, they’re outside,”