#time for a smoke break (queue)

[ivygorgon]

Hey, only smokers get smoke breaks but anyone can take a bubble break 🔎🫧

💘 Q'u lach' shughu deshni da. 🏹 "What I say is true" in Dena'ina Qenaga

[dreadranger]

tag drop - gen

[sleepntalk]

honestly yes nerd!megumi got made fun of every time you would walk pass him, even if you did have sympathy for him; your friends wouldn’t want you near him. why tho? what’s up with everyone having that hatred for nerds, you found it odd; is it because they are smarter then half the school? didn’t matter, nerd!megumi, still held a special place in your heart.

you were in a hurry, running down the halls trying to get to class, since it had already started without you; while you were running you ended up running into nerd!megumi, your heart skipped a beat, not knowing how to act. but you couldn’t let him have this hold on you, not when your “popular” and he’s just some “nerd.” so typical.

“woah, are you alright?” he reached his hand out, waiting for you to grab onto it

you didn’t grab his hand, instead you just got up off the floor yourself; brushing the dirt and dust off.

it’s not like you didn’t want his help, because of course you did, but your friends wouldn’t like it; which made no sense, who are they to tell you who you should date or not?

“yeah.. im fine, thanks.” you shot a smile towards him, making his face turn a bit pink

“cool..”

“gotta go now!” you started running again, rushing to class once more

“is she seriously running again?” he muttered,

nerd!megumi then decided to follow you to your class, just to see which one you had; not a stalker or anything! but.. he sure did feel like one at that moment.

he peaked his head throughout the door a bit, looking around to see where you were seated;

he saw you, smiled. but obviously your friends pulled your head to them, not wanting you to see “him.”

that was his queue to go, which he did

going to his class instead.

the time passed, minutes felt like hours; something you hated

the bell rang, it was now lunch break.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you sat at a table alone, since you’re friends we’re starting to get on your nerves.

well.. you were alone until nerd!megumi stood right behind you, giving you a quick little scare

and yes; it did scare the living hell outta you.

“what are you doing megumi?” you questioned, still a bit spooked

“just wanted to see why you’re alone.” he smiled, sitting beside you

you smiled back, pink blush starting to spread across your face.

you could tell your friends we’re watching my from afar, you even could hear them say “seriously? out of all the guys.”

“she could’ve went for the jock guys!” they all just laughed, and laughed; pointing fingers and everything, over megumi being a nerd? how was that such a big deal you didn’t care for “looks.” neither popularity. it was all stupid to you, not even understanding why you’re friends liked things like that, they always had a new boyfriend every week.

megumi grabbed your chin, placing his finger on it “don’t listen to them; that’s what they want from you, attention.”

megumi was right, why would you care what they think, they wouldn’t even let you be happy with a guy you actually liked, not even to just hook up for the night.

“i-im not.” you played with the hair ties on your wrist, since you did that when you were stressed; mostly and emotion you were feeling

“hm.”

“huh?”

“nothing..”

“i got some studying to do.”

“wait!” you grabbed his arm while he was getting up from beside you

“im throwing a party tonight, it’s just for fun. since my parents aren’t home.” you smiled, why were you so scared to say that to him?

“so, are you asking me to come?”

“yes!”

megumis eyes widened, not expecting that one bit.

“..sure”

you smiled, getting all excited like a little girl in a candy store.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the party.

everyone wasted no time, drinking. smoking.

just regular teens, megumi found it.. not pleasing, he only came to your party for.. well, obviously you!

the party went on and on, everyone was having a good time, the kiss between you and megumi, did happen; but it’s not like you remembered it. waking up the next day going to school like it was nothing,

“hey, last night was fun!” megumi leaned against your locker, back against it; with a smug look on his face, shooting you a quick wink.

“mmm.. why?”

“we—kissed..?”

“WAIT WHAT!?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“and that’s how we met.” your husband looked down at the kids sitting in front of him, listening to the love story of how you two met.

“what!! you didn’t finish it!” one whined,

your husband raised his eyebrow, “i did.”

“no! you ended it with mom saying ‘wait what!?”

megumi smirked; “because.. that’s how it ends.”

you were cooking up a meal in the kitchen, completely oblivious to your husband telling your kids the “love” story.

“but..”

“no but’s kiddo.” he had said,

then you all sat down at the table, eating dinner as a family. :)

(ugh.. im so sorry for not posting, i’ve been focusing on myself, but here’s this; a little something i had been working on, which i didn’t read through it 😢)

[kabr0ztrousers]

Hi!! I absolutely love your writings!!

I have an idea for a fic if you’d be interested/willing?

I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a Male Naga x Female Naga reader breeding smut fic?

Where the reader is coming into season and she’s very fussy about the male she wants and after rejecting some young males a really large dark scale colour male with scars from territorial fights/battles/hunts and maybe a missing eye? (Maybe he’s also older than her 👀) Shows interest in her and starts trying to court her (by bringing things that the reader shows interest in or needs like books or flowers or crystals and he hunts for her)

And after a few weeks of this courting (the male is very patient and gentlemanly with the reader) the reader decides that she likes this male and they breed (smut would be nice but I totally understand if it’s hard to write or you don’t feel comfortable! Fluff is good as well)

And maybe a little bit on how the reader might move a bit slower or her tail is wider due to the eggs in her before she lays them? And then how the male becomes more territorial/possessive of the reader/the eggs/the readers territory (maybe the male hisses/lunges at literally everything that comes too close to what’s his)

But please if you don’t feel comfortable writing this or if it’s too long or anything feel free to ignore this!!!

I hope you have a lovely day and keep up all the good work! But don’t forget to take breaks and take care of yourself!!

Kabr0z Writes episode 121: Battle-scarred

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Kabr0z Writes is on Ao3!

CWs: age gap; impregnation;

A/N: Back to requests! There's a lot in the queue, and more requests coming in, so if you have an idea, please please please get it in sooner rather than later!

####################################

You opened your book and lit a stick of incense, breathing in the citrus-scented smoke. You'd chased the last one off with a simple lightning charm, smoke and mirrors really, but more than enough to put the frighteners on a pair of youngsters who didn't understand how far out of their league they were trying to court. Yes, it was that time of the year, but you weren't in a hurry to lay a brood, and you certainly weren't going to mate with the first bright-scaled Naga who came along. You're a Hermetic of significant skill and talent, mistress of force projection, capable of bending the fabric of the world to your whim.

Not a cheap whore.

A crystal lit up in the corner of your vision. The proximity triggers. Another kid getting too close to your wards. You sighed and tapped your eyelids, casting your sight to the hidden gate of your tower where the ward had tripped. That's when you saw him.

Big, covered in deep emerald scales that spoke of age and experience. What wasn't scale was scars, criss-crossed and jagged, one particularly vicious one raking over his blinded right eye. He was carrying something. He set it down by the gate, turned, and left.

Weird.

You focused a second, co-locating the parcel to you, then allowing it to slip through the gaps in reality, materialising fully on your lap. A crystal, of not insignificant size. You'll definitely find a use for this. For now though, it goes on the shelf, and you go back to your book.

The next day, he was back. This time, he left a parcel of smoked meat. The day after it was a parcel of scrolls, after that a verbena's book of shadows. You have no idea how he got hold of one of those.

A week passed, every day he'd leave a gift, an offering of greater or lesser value, but always delivered with reverence. One day the familiar chime warned you of an intruder on your grounds, your gift-giver. You touched a glyph and dispelled the glamour on the gate, letting it swing open for him. He paused, then stepped in under your watchful eye.

You guided him through your garden, towards the base of your tower where you met him at last, face to scaled face.

He looked at you, head tilted down to meet your gaze, saying nothing.

"So, we finally meet" you spoke first. It broke the mystique a little, but you weren't just going to stand there and have a staring contest

"We do" He sounded like he looked, broad, deep, and old

You paused a moment before speaking again "You left gifts. Why?"

He regarded you, blinking slowly, gathering himself "I had heard stories. They say a goddess lives here"

You blushed a little. A goddess? That's a new one on you. You'd heard witch, demon, you'd burned the tongue out of the last man to call you a snake, but you'd never been called a goddess.

"Are you her, the one who accepted my gifts?

You smiled, "I am. Now what would you do, having met your goddess?"

He took your hands in his. His large, calloused fingers closing around yours as he stared into you

"Worship"

He lifted you up with his heavily muscled arms, carrying you to a grassy clearing and laying you down.

You watched him as he slowly disrobed you, carefully pulling off the fine silks and setting them reverently aside. His skin against yours made you feel dizzy, your breath shallowing as the cool air caressed you. His clothes were a lot easier to get him out of: a simple tunic and a brown linen kilt to cover his lower quarters, the long snakish tail protruding from the bottom. It all went together with buckles, a few deft clips and he was as nude as you.

He was panting. Your breath was shallow and fast. You ran your hands over his scarred body, feeling the lines of battles hard-won scribed across his torso, following them with your gaze. A finger pushed your jaw upwards, closing your mouth and bringing your gaze to his. Your hand reached down, feeling the thick cock that was slipping from his lower abdomen, feeling yourself grow warmer, anticipating him. You rolled him over, taking your place on top of the wide serpent-man whom you had chosen. Your slit pressed against his length for a moment, before accepting it.

Your hips rolled over him, your body working as his hands still crept over your form. You couldn't help but gasp as he hit the best parts in you, making you squirm and moan. He held your waist, guiding you over him, lifting his hips to help you grind him against your back walls, hissing with delight as his tapered tip tickled your cervix. You felt him swelling within you, holding you down to him as you brushed his chest with your fingertips. You felt warmth start to flow from him as he gasped, filling you with seed. Your body responded, squeezing and pulsing, drawing him into you as you wrapped your tails around one another, holding chest to chest, kissing deeply as he fertilised you.

You relaxed into him, feeling him as you wound back down in one another's arms, listening to the rhythm of his heart before you looked back up at him

"So... Tea?"

################################

This one was tricky to get right, and I'm still not the happiest, just needed to get something out!

Thus perfect must stop being the enemy of good, and we get another published episode for the series.

[lucis-dove]

Bouncer Ghost blurb

Just thought about Ghost as a bouncer

Thinking about how you and your friends would go to the pub/club he’s working at, the large man catching your eye and keeping your attention the second you spot him at the entrance

Bouncer!ghost is big, shoulders broad, towering over everyone, has biceps bulging even through his hoodie as he has arms crossed somehow leisurely over his chest, hands big as paws wrapped around those thick arms, the face-covering and hood pulled up making him no less intimidating

For some reason, bouncer!ghost would have you nervously fishing out your ID, fingers tapping against your upper thigh as his darks eyes flickers from your face and down to your photo

A grunt would be the only thing preceding bouncer!ghost’s eyes falling to yours before he hands your ID back again, and you wouldn’t be able to contain the shiver running down your spine as he cocks his head backwards, directing your group inwards as he retake his previous position

Bouncer!ghost would not leave your mind, no matter your friends trying to entice you with the guys scattered around the place, the memory of the huge man making you scrunch your nose at whoever they pointed towards

Each time you glanced around the space, you would drag out the moment when you looked in the direction of the entrance, indulging in how you could watch bouncer!ghost through the window

And as if the universe hears your debauched thoughts about the man, your friend excuses herself to go for a smoke, an opportunity that you jump at quickly enough your friends are almost shocked

You don’t smoke, yet still you exit the building with your friend, something in your chest fluttering as bouncer!ghost’s gaze meet yours briefly, enough for you to give him a small smile as a formal greeting much like your friend did just second earlier, before moving past him and to the arranged smoking area

With bouncer!ghost in your close vicinity again, the drinks you’ve had suddenly feels a lot stronger as you giggle along with your friend as she lights a cig

As someone else asks your friends for a lighter, you advert your eyes to bouncer!ghost, appreciating the view he offers at the entrance as he talks to two guys who even they need to look up at him, god he’s just so big

You would return back inside with nearly dragging feet once your friend is done, having no reason to remain, but your chest flutters a last time as bouncer!ghost spots you nearing and hauls the door open for you

Your smile would be much timider this time around at his action despite telling yourself it’s nothing but custom, yet as you enter first and look back to talk with your friend, your eyes move over her shoulder to meet the brown ones looking after the two of you, feeding your delusion that maybe, maybe there was another reason behind bouncer!ghost’s action

Less than thirty minutes later, without your friend this time, you excuse yourself from your group, needing some fresh air

You don’t even know why you did it, the air not much fresher due the smokers scattered in the caged-in part of the sidewalk outside the building, or yes you did, your eyes flitting and briefly meeting bouncer!ghost’s as he notes your presence as you angle your body to pass him despite the lack of queue to enter

You exhale heavily once you lean against the building’s facade, stone digging into your back, the smell of smoke less potent with much fewer smokers huddled in the area compared to earlier

You try to make your glance around smooth, but when you look to the left, your eyes briefly connect with the pair of brown eyes already upon you

Something about bouncer!ghost makes a warmth erupt in your body and your attention to hastily flicker away, instinctually to the ground before you catch yourself and try to look to the side at the other people catching a break form the stuffy air inside

“Forgot your fag?” The slightly muffled but clearly deep voice catches you off guard, eyes widening as your attention is pulled to the side, bouncer!ghost now having his mask rolled to the bridg of his nose, cigarette currently being lightened between his lips

“M’no”, you answer makes his eyes flicker side-ways to eye you, releasing a deep exhale of smoke into the air as he drops his hand, pocketing the lighter

“Didn’t think I saw one earlier”, he says before taking another inhale, directing his eyes forwards before surveying the immediate area

“What?”

“Ya didn’t have a smoke earlier, only your friend”. Were you shocked he’d noticed? Yes, you were, as you hadn’t noticed him paying as much attention to you as you’d done him.

“No, not a fan”, you explained.

“Why you here then, ain’t much fresh air?” Did you imagine the tug in his lips? No, the same cockiness making his sentence sound more like a statement than question was evident in his eyes when he looked at you.

It made you mouth fall open, before you pressed your lips together and you gave him a shrug, adverting your eyes.

Through the corner of your eye, you noticed how he crushed the remaining cigarette beneath his booth with a confident grind of his foot, suggesting your lack of answer was enough for him to know why. If he didn’t already.

“Think that’s enough air for now”, you excused yourself at the realisation, hearing a gruff sounding chuckle follow your informal end to your joint presence.

“Know where to find me”. Your head snapped upwards towards him as you turned to move to the entrance, effectively also towards him. His eyes hints at his amusement instead of a smirk as he now had pulled down his mask, but you knew the same quirk of his lips as earlier was hidden beneath it.

You couldn’t help how your eyes widened when he gave you a wink upon having caught your attention, nor how your body set alight as he stepped in front of you, making you look up at him, as he opens the door for you again

Bouncer!ghost would notch his head forward to look at you, and if he didn’t square his shoulders and grow another inch in satisfaction when he saw your flustered state

It felt like you had a searing heat in the back of your head the rest of the evening, your friends not helping as they pestered you about the interaction they’d seen

And those very friends would be the ones who pushed you towards bouncer!ghost when you wrapped up your stay to head to the next place

“Asking me on the clock?” You could bet one of his brows raised beneath that mask of his if his cocky tone was anything to go by when you stepped up to him, your friends not too far away down the street.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes despite the wavering flutter in your chest at the prospect of having bouncer!ghost reject your advance. “Can just say no and tell me to fuck off”.

The bite in you tone after a few more drinks, not nearly to make you drunk but enough to loosen your nerves, apparently amuses bouncer!ghost as he chuckles deeply and takes your phone from you, the device comically smaller in his hands than yours the brief moment he taps the screen. He hands it back locked and with the edge pinched between his forefinger and thumb, so nonchalant in his action.

“Ask your friend to take a picture if you end up on the curb”, it’s mocking, but not mean, having you shoot him a deadpan look that don’t last long as your friends squeals makes your break into a grin.

[pugh-bug]

Flashing Lights

Art Donaldson x reader

If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.

——————————————————————

‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’

Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.

‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’

You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.

In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.

You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.

‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.

‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’

It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.

‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’

As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.

It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.

‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.

You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.

As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.

‘So, you don’t like tennis?’

Shit.

‘Oh. You heard that.’

‘Yep.’

His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.

‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’

‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’

Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.

‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’

He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.

Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.

‘I should go too-‘

‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’

You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’

‘It’s Y/N.’

With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’

If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?

The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’

You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.

‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.

‘What is it about tennis?’

Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.

‘I’ll let you answer that.’

Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?

‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’

Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’

Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.

‘You’re just really good at it.’

‘Try again.’

He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?

‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’

He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.

‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’

You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.

‘Not disappointed.’

Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.

‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’

You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.

‘Jesus fuck!’

‘Y/N!’

The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘I think I can walk.’

You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’

You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.

‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:

‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’

Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.

‘Uber?’

‘Think of it as a workout.’

It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.

‘67, this is it.’

Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.

‘Do you want me to st-‘

‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.

At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.

‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘

You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.

Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.

‘Sit.’

His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.

‘Foot.’

Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.

As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.

‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’

His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’

You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.

You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

‘Oh.’

Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.

Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.

Your hand settled atop of his.

‘Don’t.’

Part 2

Masterlist

Resources 🇸🇩🇨🇩🇵🇸

[whorrorbellee]

FLAWLESS

warnings:smut, drug use. 18+ only please The bear but it's actually just linecook!Aemond x hostess!reader.  porn w a plot.

no beta we die or whatever

2014-7:40 Pm. 

You stand at the hostess stand, looking over the Ipad for reservations, you're absolutely swamped, it's a Saturday night in Knightsbridge, London. Barely seconds pass before the phone rings again, it's the same conversation you've had every weekend for the past year. “Sorry we’re fully booked!” 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes! And here at RedKeep we thank you for being a loyal customer~” 

“I want to speak to the manager!”

 “Sorry the managers not here right now”

“Then who's next in charge?” Queue you, grabbing Daemon from the office, where he completely undermines what you're saying to the customer, allowing them to take a reservation from some poor couple who had saved up their money to taste the food from RedKeep, because it is good for business. 

Keep the loyal customers, he says, fucking asshole. You watch their smug faces grin as they walk in, pressed white shirts and silk dresses they didn’t fish out the bin from the local Guild care. Sometimes you smile and make your accent slightly deeper as you lead them to their seats. Other times you let them know it's you and lead them to the table directly by the bar, letting them hear the utter nonsense that Criston and Aegon spill behind the bar all night. 

But you always retreat to the back for your five minute smoke break, snatching the Marlboro reds from the office, Daemon winking at you as you shove your coat on in the winter. You let yourself breath in the only thing that keeps you going through your shift, music blasting from the shitty headphones that came with your phone and then crush half of it between the sole of your black doc martens, straightening out your black silky blouse, and wandering through the kitchen back to your stand, where you greet another customer with a smile faker than the diamond rings that protrude off the women's fingers.

You rub the tiger balm into the crook of your neck in the changing room, its 10:00 pm, kitchen closed about half an hour ago, and the chef’s are scrubbing the floor down on their knees, you thank god the only thing you have to do is inform Daemon of the reservations for the next week, fully booked until next august, they usually go down about then, people retreat to France and Italy for summer. Your shifts go down and you tutor rich brats who are failing their GCSEs. Spending summers writing essays about Macbeth for fourteen year olds who find nothing better to do than take their daddy's golf cart for a ride around their ridiculously huge back gardens in sussex.  

You hum to yourself, slipping of your blouse, the door opens and then is slammed shut. You turn, half naked in the changing room, your locker swinging open, Aemond stands with his nose pressed into his locker, you change into a band shirt and pleated skirt, pulling on high denier tights. “Are you coming tonight?” he whispers, it's soft, you watch him pull out his bag as you re-lace your boots. 

“Yeah, did Aegon get the weed?” you ask quietly, boots thumping against the floor as you stand, you grab your backpack from the floor, shutting your locker. 

“No Cregan did” Aemonds back ripples as he pulls on a black shirt, you watch his tattoos shift under it, he grabs his motorcycle helmet out of the locker, eye shifting to yours. You go to stand next to him. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro reds, original packaging, you wonder if they're fake, but the Polish words stare back at you, “want one?” he slips one into the corner of his mouth, pulling on his jacket.

You swallow, “Yes please” you take the cigarette and push it behind your ear, walking to the door. He follows. You push open the door, stepping out into the hallway, Daemon stands in the kitchen watching Rhaenrya sharpen the knives. You still refuse to believe they were ever married, her dad and him were such close friends it was borderline Insestuous. “I'm glad Cregan got it, Aegon always choses really weird strains, like unicorn poop? What is that?” 

Aemond shrugs and follows you out the back, you wave to Daemon and Nyra, door slamming behind you. Cregan and Aegon wait by your car, its scratched to fuck. From where Aegon had slammed the door into the tree. You don't even know why you own a car anymore, parking is so expensive in London, you only use it to get to work and home. You watch Aemond shove his helmet on and then leave the car park. Unlocking your car and letting the boys pile in. 

Cregan hits his head on the ceiling and Aegon falls into a mess of giggles in the back. You breathe in the scent of cherry, air freshener hanging from the mirror, Some arctic monkey's song comes on from the aux. You look to your left, Cregans on tinder replying to some bird. It would be rude to call him a slut but he gets around, he got some bird up north pregnant and now he has to send up money every month for a two year old he barely sees. You pull out, switching gears before starting your journey to Aegon's place it’s about half an hour drive into camden, you pass the punks on the bridge and pull in to the slip where Aegon's flat share is, he lives Aemond and a bunch of hippies that sell vintage clothes at the market. 

You run to the corner shop first, buying a bottle of cheap vodka and a diet coke. Then you walk back down the dark street, lighting the ciggie that Aemond gave you, a tote bag heavy on your shoulder, passing the bike and slipping down the side of the building opening the gates. The smell of weed hits you almost immediately. Cregan sits legs spread on the rattan furniture that Aegon stole from someone's front porch last summer. You don't know why he does it, his mum literally owns the restaurant. He earns more than enough. 

You slide up next to Helaena , she leans her head into your shoulder for a moment and then leans back, thumbs padding against her cracked iphone 5, Cregan hands you the joint its some cali strain this time, you rarely smoke. But Saturdays at the RedKeep are actually killing you. Aegon pulls out his speaker and decides to blast drum and bass. You steal the aux and play cigarettes after sex. Falling into the rattan sofa, pulling your Northface jacket around your legs, its fucking cold. Aegon's wearing his dressing gown and hoodie as he stands out the back door. You don't even know why you're in the garden, an hour passes and you find yourself sweating on the sofa, legs intertwined with Aegons as he spews on about some weird conspiracy theories; dragons being real, the lizard people shit. You talk about the ghost house when you lived in the isle of white for a year. And then you've had enough of talking so you head up to Aemonds bedroom to listen to music. 

Your socks run up the carpeted stairs, pausing outside Aemonds bedroom, you knock and hear him grunt a yes. You practically throw yourself into his bed, your phone bouncing from impact, he smiles at you, and you look at his mac playing on the bed, he’s watching reruns of misfits before it gets bad. 

“You know, Aegon always reminds me of Nathan? I can't watch it without thinking about him.” You sigh,“it's a shame because Robert Sheehan is really fit” Ameond hides a laugh, he's different now. He used to light up a room with his quick wit. But now he’s buried into himself, he just keeps retreating and retreating. You used to have this weird thing between you. It was all longing looks and brushed knuckles. He’d follow you outside on early morning shifts to have a ciggie, making you laugh, legs pressed against each other on the staircase. Sometimes you’d bring him coffee and he'd make you one of those fruit salads with all the fruit scraps, slices of mango and strawberry tops. Nights spent outside nursing a joint while Aegon sings incredibly loud in the lounge. No one was surprised when they saw you two getting closer, it's like fate really. Line cook and hostess. If it wasn't Jace it was going to be Aemond.

And then the accident happened. It wasn't Luke's fault, it really wasn't. Something had split on the floor, Luke wasn't wearing the proper shoes yet. He was just about to start his shift, so he slips, grabs for Aemond, His knife in hand just about to chop something, they both fall to the ground. You remember coming to grab Aemond for a cigarette and there was just blood everywhere. All over the white tiles. You remember thinking that he had spilt some kinda wine sauce, nearly laughing until he had sat up and his face looked like it was falling apart. He was shaking, too afraid to cry, and Luke was sent home. 

It was one of those slow days. So you had shoved him into the car with a napkin pressed over his eye. Taking him to A&E for stitches, he looked so different when he came out. He smoked a cigarette in your car with bloodstained hands. You hand squeezed his thigh as you took him home. Then days later you had picked him up from the hospital. White eyepatch over the gaping hole. They removed his eye incase of an infection. It wasn't salvageable, he had sliced right through the cornea. 

He wasn't at work for weeks, you remember standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him to come down and join the others, aegon had pulled you away after an hour. Too shy to head up there yourself and then months later you had taken a joint and pringles up to his room. He was just staring out the window, watching the sunset as Helaena  spun around with Cregan. 

“How was work?” he asks, you hand him a vodka coke, swinging your legs under yourself. 

“Fucking terrible, Daemon did it again” your hands runs through your hair. You look at Aemond, you can barely even notice the difference with his fake eye and real one, they got it spot on. “It pisses me off so much, like no wonder we aren't getting any new customers. When he keeps cancelling the bookings” Aemond shuts his laptop, he gets up and grabs a record from the pile in the corner, the needle hits the vinyl with a hum, it crackles around the room.  He's so different from his brother, you wonder where he gets it from. He's just softer. 

You miss his touch. He lies back down on the bed, hands over his heart, you're on your stomach, watching him breathe slightly, you wanna reach out and touch him, he watches you hesitate. “Sorry” he mutters. He runs his hand through his hair. Your eyebrows furrow, he looks away. 

“Why are you sorry?” you ask, you lean into your hands and watch him. Waiting for an answer. 

He pauses, chewing on his lips, and then his face settles, his lips back to the perpetual pout. “I know we had this thing between us, but you don't have to keep it going because you feel sorry for me” 

“Huh” your eyebrows raise, you almost wonder if he's joking, you wait for him to crack a smile, “ I~I don't know what to say Aemond, I don't feel sorry for you” you groan, your hands smush your face together and then you plant yourself into the side of his body. You feel him stiffen and then his hand comes back to smooth over the small of your back. Your face heats. “I ~ oh god” you look up at him watching his eyes twitch, “I always felt like you were just playing along with this whole thing, we had” you shift, pushing yourself onto your knees. “I've have this really stupid big crush on you, since I had the panic attack out back and you sat with me for twenty minutes even though Nyra was shouting at you.”

He sits up, your jaw shifts side to side, you wonder if you should just escape downstairs and sleep with Cregan instead. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh pulling back. He lets out a huff. “You’re fucking with me” he shakes his head. You shake your head back smiling.

“Wait a sec” you grab your phone and swipe back to a conversation you had with Healana months ago, you hand it to him. Watching his eye sweep across the messages. He smirks, and then scrolls down, your eyes widen, he laughs. 

“You can stop scrolling now” but he continues anyway smirk falling into a smile, “Aemond!” your own smile falls, “ Aemond, please stop scrolling” you grit your teeth. Your hand reaches to snatch your phone, But he pulls it away from you, you climb over his body hand on his shoulder, reaching out to grab at your phone. You feel yourself lose balance, you begin your descent onto his floor, but his arm grabs around your waist and pushes you back onto the bed quickly. He’s hovering over you, one arm on the bed the other lingering around your waist. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me” he smirks down at you. 

“Shut up” you huff, you bite your lips to stop you smirking, feeling heat rush to your face. You look up at him, watching his eyes glance down to your lips, you look at his. You’re so fucking high, and its not from the drugs. His hand brushes against your hip. Fingers pressing into the flesh, your skirt is flipped up, you don't even realise. It doesn't even matter because he’s already crashing his lips on your own. It's quick, chased and hard. You move together like you're running out of time, one hand brushing against your jaw the other pressed into your hip, you whine, hands running up his neck to his jaw, you're pulling him closer than what’s physically possible. 

He goes to untuck your shirt from your skirt, you part and pull it off over your head quickly, he takes in the curves of your body, tracing muscle and moles. “Nearly killed me today, walking in on you like this” you smirk under him, his hand brushed against your chest clad in a black lacy bra. You press his hands into your chest, he gropes and needs, his lips running down the column of your neck, you sigh under his touch, teeth grazing, lips nipping. 

Pupils blown, Aemonds hands fingers graze down from your chest to under your skirt, you pull him in for another kiss, teeth clashing together. Phone forgotten by the side of you. You feel his hands run down your legs, a finger hooks under the waistband of your tights, you lift your hips, propping yourself up on your elbows as he slides them down your legs, you part, standing and shifting them off. Aemond sits back and watches. The record crackles repeatedly through the speaker, and you lean down to pick one out. Carefully putting the vinyl into its sleeve. Needle back down, the music starts. “Your such a cliche” 

‘She planned ahead for a year… He said let's play it by ear’

“Shut up”,You slide yourself back into aemond’s arms, his hands run down your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, your own run down his chest and then tug at the shirt he wears. He pulls it over his head before you know it. Your hands trace the pale freckles skin, pressing wet kisses down his throat, he slides a hand around your thigh, pulling you to straddle him. He pulls your chin towards him, meeting him in another heated kiss.You moan as he grabs at the flesh of your ass, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your back arches, your chest pressing against his. He trails his lips across your chin as he rolls both of you over, his hand grazes your inner thigh and you wrestle your skirt off quickly. 

He sticks his head in the crock of your neck, kissing tenderly. Hand brushing under your panties, he cups your cunt, swiping a finger through your folds, “Shit your wet” he pants, you feel him smirk against your throat. “This fo’me?” you nod your head, eyes half shut as you stare at him. Lips bruised and pouting. He eats up your whines with his lips as his finger traces your clit, your hands brush against his neck and then grip his hair. He slides a finger into you with ease. You moan into his mouth. He makes a come hither motion and slides another finger inside of you. Your back arches and he groans, pinning you into the bed. Your knee slides up and brushes against his hardness. 

‘Youre a doll, you are flawless ’

He stiffens, movements stilling. You smirk. His hands leave your body and you meet his lips again, hands brushing against his groin. You pull at the belt buckle. Pulling away from him to see what you're doing, he pulls your panties down your legs, head buried in the crock of your neck pressing hot kisses onto your skin. You fumble and then pull his trousers down, you can see the outline of his cock through his boxers. He grins down at you. You palm at his cock, watching him through your lashes. He sheds his boxers, you run your hand down his length loosely, thumb brushing over his tip. You watch him whine. “Condom?” 

“I'm on the pill.” You hum.

He pulls your body towards him, your crotch meeting his thighs, he leans closer. The head of his cock brushing past your folds, it feels like hours spent teasing you and then suddenly he pushes into you, feeling you stretch around him. “Shit your tight”,your hands grip his shoulders, mouth gaping open at how full you feel. 

“Fuck Aem” He begins to move slowly, you feel every inch of him, every vein brushing against you. He looks down watching you suck him in. His hands trace against the side of your body, stopping at your hips. 

Finger’s digging into the flesh. You feel so dizzy with pleasure. “Shit, so good fo’me” you clench around him, he lips curl upwards. “You like that huh?” you moan, feeling his cock brush perfectly against your walls. “So fucking pretty underneath me” your back arches. 

He pulls out and pushes you onto your stomach, you lift your hips, he hilts himself inside of you all at once. You feel him in your throat.you hands trace against his creased covers as he pounds faster into you. He pulls your back towards his chest. Hand grabbing at your chin. You look him in the eye. Biting your lip, you feel sweat run down your bodies, his hand slides down your front and runs tight circles around your clit. He leans in to kiss you. Pulling away with a string of spit. “Close Aem”

“Yeah? Already” 

You nod against him, his fingers brush up your neck, pinning your body into his, neck tilting. Lips brushing together. You feel him pulse inside of you. You feel the pleasure spread from your back until you can't hold on anymore. You clench around him. You can taste it in your mouth. You turned around and pressed into the covers by his body, he pistons into you chasing his high,You feel him falter, bringing his face to your own, he presses his sweaty forehead to your own. Chasing your lips as he cums. Your own legs shake from under him. He collapses on your chest. Teeth grazing against your tits. He smiles up at you,  you push his hair back from his face. 

“I really like you” he whispers, his hand meets your cheek, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I'm glad” you smile, “because i really you” he pulls away from you, shrugging on some clothes and running out the room. He comes back with a wet flannel. Wiping the sweat of your forehead and then between your thighs. He kisses your shoulder and you watch him grab clothes out his drawer. You pull your socks on, and his adidas jumper, along with some joggers. The cuffs of his jumper slides down your wrist to your palm. You slide your phone in his pocket and wait. Aemond stands by the door. “You coming?” your eyes widen and you jump off the bed, grabbing his hand to pull him down stairs. 

The music is louder than usual and Aegon stares at you as you walk through the door of the lounge,“You finally fucked then” 

“Aegon!” Helaena  gasps, shoving a pillow at his face. You watch Aemonds face blush but push him into the direction of the back yard, picking up your coat and bag. You both sit on the rattan furniture, Aemonds arm wrapped around your shoulder as you roll a joint, he presses his lips to the side of your mouth as you lick the paper. It's not the neatest, but it's not Aegons, which usually look limp and bent. You push the tray of your lap and tuck your legs under you, leaning into his body. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You light the joint watching the cherry light, Turning to his side, he watches for your reaction. You smile, breathing in the weed and handing it to him. “Yes please” his lips curl. You pull your phone out his hoodie pocket, eyes widening as the texts to Helaena, light up. 

You: I literally need this man so bad I'm gonna have an aneurysm x Helaena: Istg, stop whining and talk to him all he does is ride his bike and go to work x

You switch your phone off and smile. 

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 14

FOURTEEN: And Madness Called It Forth

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM READER

Summary: Continuing with Simon's POV. Plans are set in motion, but Peach has a few diabolical tricks up her sleeve.

Warnings/Tags: profanity, smoking, violence, alcohol consumption, noncon- Simon gets roofied, attempted SA- Peach tries to take advantage, mention of murder(s), Peach is mentally unhinged

mdni banner: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

-

“Misery loves company, and madness calls it forth.”

― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

-

"Red or black, Si?"

Simon glances down at the lacy froth Peach is holding up and sighs. He couldn't care fuckin' less which one she chooses, but bites back his snarky retort. "Red."

"Ooh, good choice, big guy," she purrs, a sultry smirk appearing. Pinning the lingerie to her front, her smirk spreads into a salacious smile. "You likey?"

It's all Simon can do not to roll his eyes. "Yeah," he grunts.

Christ, he needs a break from this. They've gone through what seems like every clothing and shoe shop in Blackheath, and he's ready to choke Peach out, broad daylight and eye witnesses be damned.

bzz-bzz...

Simon's silenced phone vibrates in his pocket, drawing Peach's attention. His frame goes tight with tension when her unblinking stare zeroes in on him. She reminds him of a snake set to strike.

"Ya need t'get that?"

He plays it off as if he's in no hurry to see who has contacted him, though his fingers twitch at his sides. "Nah. Prob'ly Johnny sendin' me another stupid meme. Blows up m'bloody phone wiff 'em when 'm on leave."

Peach blinks, the predatory light in her eyes dimming. "Yeah. He sends 'em to me, too," she says then giggles, but there's no real humor in her gaze, just an unsettling watchfulness.

Simon feels the urge to take a huge step away from her, but instead pats her shoulder and feigns an indulgent expression. "Ya ready t'go or ya want t'look 'round some more?"

Peach hangs the black lingerie back on the rack. "Nah, I'm ready. How 'bout we get a drink after we get out of here? My treat."

"Yeah, sounds good."

He follows her to the register, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket. As she queues up behind a couple of shoppers, he leans down to mutter at her ear, "Goin' out f'a fag. I'll be out front waitin' on ya."

Peach hums in acknowledgment, seemingly distracted by a display of scented body lotions. He makes a casual exit as she pops a cap open to sniff at the contents, but he can feel her eyes burning a hole in between his shoulder blades when he walks away. He fights the urge to glance back as he steps out into the late afternoon sun.

His nerves are shot, his hands trembling with a slight tremor as he pokes a cigarette between his lips and lights up. Leaning against one of the ornate lamp posts that dot the walkway along the front of the shops, he takes out his phone to check his notifications. Expecting an update from Price, his pale eyebrows go up to see that the last text received was sent from you.

[DOLL]: No need to pick me up. Already have a ride. TTYL

An aggravated scowl pinches up his face. He'd planned on asking Ollie to keep you away from the row house until he gave the all clear. Who the bloody hell is giving you a ride home?

Cursing under his breath, he goes to jab the call button, but reconsiders. After the show he put on with Peach that morning, then him telling you over voicemail that she would be spending the night, he knows you won't answer. Hell, he'll be lucky if you don't pack up your shit and move house while he's still stuck there in Blackheath helping Peach pick out fuckin' knickers.

He exits out of his texts with a frustrated growl and rings Ollie, instead.

"What the bloody hell is goin' on, greenie?!" Ollie growls through the phone.

Simon's scowl deepens as he glares straight ahead. "Can't explain it yet, Ol. Don't got time. Is Dee still wiff ya at the Dog?"

Ollie scoffs out an irritated noise and lets loose. "Aye, she's still here, but she's a bloody wreck. Poor lass made herself sick cryin' over yer sorry arse. Thank Christ, Fiona came in early t'check on her. She's with her right now, but I'll warn ya now, lad; Fi's ready t'cut yer bleedin' balls off. I swear t'Christ, if ya've—"

The last thread of Simon's patience finally snaps. "Fuck! Will ya shut yer bloody gob an' jus' listen? This is important, Ol. I need ya t'keep Dee away from the row house. D'ya understand? Do not let her go home. Don't care wot ya got t'do, but keep her away. 'S not safe f'her there. "

There's a heavy silence on the other end of the line. "Son, talk t'me. What the hell is goin'—"

Movement in the plate-glass window of the shop across the way catches Simon's attention, and it's all he can do not to jump in surprise when he spies Peach's reflection. She's managed to sneak right up behind him, a fact that unnerves him and sends a chill racing down his spine.

Christ, how long has she been standing there? How much did she hear?

"I'll call ya back, Ol. I gotta go."

Simon hangs up on a blustering Ollie, turning slowly to face the madwoman behind him. Peach tilts her head, peering back at him. She has an innocent expression on her face, but he can see the cold calculation in her baby blue eyes. It makes his skin crawl.

"Everything okay, Si?" she asks, her voice girly high and saccharin sweet.

Fuckin' hell, this bitch gives him the creeps.

"Yeah," Simon grunts, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "Ollie's jus' throwin' a strop 'cause I f'got t'pay my tab. I'll deal with him later. Leh's get outta here an' go get tha' drink."

-

God knows he could bloody use one.

The Golden Crown is dimly lit, the greasy odor of fish and chips layered over the distinctive bite of alcohol. The place is beginning to get a little crowded, now that the work day is over. Patrons line the bar and gather in groups at the tables and booths, congregating to have a pint and unwind while chatting with their mates. Sports highlights play on the telly above the bar, the atmosphere relaxed and congenial.

Peach sits across from Simon at a two-seater table against the wall, sucking on a bottle of light beer. Leaning forward on her elbows, she makes a show of slowly licking the beer from her upper lip, peering up at him through her lashes. Her matte red lips spread in a slow, seductive smile. She's trying to look enticing, but to Simon it looks like a bloody rictus grin.

"Dunno how you Brits can stand drinkin' warm beer," she comments, setting her bottle on the table. Her tone is teasing, trying to goad him into their old debate.

Simon takes a drink of his Dewer's and grunts before knocking back the rest of it in one gulp. He's in no mood to rehash their friendly argument, any sense of camaraderie he once felt towards her long gone. He just wants to be shot of her presence once and for all.

"Gotta hit the head," he mutters, rising to his feet. He doesn't wait for her response before walking off, eager to be away from her, if only for a few minutes.

"I'll get us another round," she calls after him, her fevered gaze fixed on his retreating back.

Tossing up a hand in acknowledgment, Simon heads toward the short hallway where the restrooms are located, glad for the brief reprieve. Shoving through the door, he checks the stalls to make sure he's alone before locking himself inside one of them. He blows out a tired sigh, taking out his phone to call Price, relieved when the captain answers on the first ring.

"Sitrep, Lieutenant."

"We're at the Golden Crown Pub in Blackheath havin' a drink. Her idea."

"How's her mental state?"

"She's calm, f'now at least, but she's watchin' me like a bloody hawk. She's had her moments, though. Likes t'ramble on about us, like we're some sorta lovey-dovey couple. 'S bloody mental."

"Do ya think she suspects yer up t'anythin'?"

"Hard t'say. Thought I might'a been compromised when she caught me on the phone wiff Ollie earlier, but she's still actin' the same. 'M not lettin' my guard down, though. Were ya able t'get any new intel on her?"

Price huffs out a breath. "Yeah. Found out quite a bit, actually. Discovered she's a bloody fugitive, for one. That story she fed you an' Soap about her workin' as a bodyguard is a load uh bollocks. She's been on the run since escapin' from a maximum security psychiatric hospital on Wards Island in New York over a year ago. She was incarcerated there by court order after a judge found her mentally incompetent to stand trial for three murders."

"Jesus..." Simon mutters.

"She killed a fellow Shadow she worked with. They were havin' an affair, but he was married an' decided to end it. Peach didn't take it well. She snapped an' killed him then went after his family. A SWAT team took her down while she was lyin' in wait for his wife and daughter to return home. She managed t'take out two uh 'their team before their sniper could get off a clear shot. She took one in the shoulder an' one in the hip before she finally went down."

"Fuck me," Simon groans, yanking down his mask to run a hand over his face. "How did she end up back in the UK? Why are we just now findin' this out?"

"Unclear but it stinks of a cover-up. Prob'ly military intelligence, since she was still workin' for Graves at the time. The lass has made some nasty friends since her escape. We know for certain she's got ties with the Russian mafia. We have intel that she's also been operating on the dark web as a contract assassin. She's on Interpol's most wanted list now."

Simon's chest caves in at the news. Peach has been working with the fuckin' Russian mob? The thought of it sickens him. "How should I handle this, Cap?"

Price sighs. "I've looped Kate in. She's notified the proper authorities in the US, and I've been dealin' with the top brass here. We're bringin' a team in t'handle her, but we've already got eyes on ya, lad, so don't worry. Just stick with the plan, keep her distracted, an' hopefully this will all be over soon."

The trembling in Simon's hands returns, the thought of you possibly being caught up in the crossfire paralyzing him with fear. "Where an' when is this s'posed t'go down?"

"The optimal location would be between Banfield and Blackheath, keepin' it as far away from civilians as we can manage. There's a nature preserve for waterfowl in the vicinity. Are ya familiar with it?"

Jerry Finch's ugly mug floats through his mind, along with your dirty, terrified face. Simon's shaking hand clenches into an angry fist. "Yeah. I know where it is."

"Good. We'll be settin' up an ambush on the access road that leads to the preserve. There will be two operatives, a male and a female, posing as a young couple who have broken down on the side of the road. When ya see 'em, stop and get outta the vehicle. Get Peach outside the vehicle, too, if ya can, but if not, stay clear of her. We'll move in an' subdue her."

Simon drags a hand through his short, choppy hair and grips the nape of his neck, eyes squeezing shut. "Yessir. Understood."

"Good lad. Our ETA is approximately one hour. I'll text when we're set up, then ya can head our way. See ya soon, Lieutenant."

"See ya, Cap."

Simon puts away his phone after checking the time. With any luck, he'll be done with this insanity in a few more hours. He just hopes Ollie can keep you safely away from all this mess until it's over. Then you're going back home, with him. Permanently.

He returns to the table to find Peach sipping on another beer, a fresh drink waiting for him. Settling onto his seat, he picks it up and tugs his mask up to take a drink. Peach smirks at him, watching as he drains the glass dry.

-

Something's wrong.

Simon lifts his head when Peach giggles, blinking his glassy eyes when her image blurs then multiplies. The room begins to slowly spin and he shuts his eyes to fight off his rising gorge.

"What's the matter, Ghost Man? Can't hold your liquor?" she teases.

Simon grunts, attempting to stand, but the floor tilts under his feet and he stumbles into the table, turning over Peach's beer.

"Woah!" Peach exclaims, jumping up to help settle him back on his seat, snickering. "That last drink really did a number on ya, huh?"

What did you do to me, Simon wants to snarl at her, but his tongue isn't working properly, sitting fat and useless as a dead slug inside his mouth. His attempts to shake off her grasping hands only results in unbalancing himself again. Luckily, he hits the wall instead of the floor, but he doesn't even wince when his head cracks against the plaster. He's too numb to feel it.

A couple of blokes from the bar come over to see if Peach needs help, then the next thing he knows, he's being hoisted up between them, his arms draped over their shoulders, boots dragging as they follow Peach out to a waiting Uber. He squints his eyes against the low evening sun, the nausea rising again.

He briefly wonders why Peach called an Uber instead of taking her rental back to Banfield. He can't remember why that would matter to him, but for some reason he knows that it should. Slumping against the door, he rests his head on the window and lets the vibrations from the motor lull him to sleep.

-

Simon is dreaming.

After Peach paid the disgruntled driver a huge tip to help her get him inside and up the stairs to his bed, Simon fell face first into his pillows. They smelled like home, the scent of your favorite fabric softener sending him off with a smile to dreamland.

Luckily, all his dreams are of you. You, sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, sunlight glinting in your wind-blown hair. You, out in the garden kneeling among your flowers, wearing those fuckin' cut-off shorts that drive him bloody mad. You, standing at the foot of his bed, a fuzzy shadow in the darkness that sighs his name as you crawl up his body to straddle his hips.

His hands drift up to settle at your waist, but instead of your soft curves, he finds bony, narrow hips. One of them is marred by raised scar tissue. The hands that slide up his chest aren't soft and small, like yours. The fingers are too long and tipped with talons, the callused palms rough against his skin. The breasts pressing into his chest are too small, the hair tickling his face the wrong texture. The scent is all wrong, too. It's not your light, floral musk, but something spicy and slightly citric. It doesn't smell like you at all. Instead it smells like—

"Ungh... Peach? Whaddya want? Why'd ya wake me up?" Simon slurs, pushing at her drunkenly to get her off him.

Peach giggles, wrestling his weak arms back down to his sides. "Mmm, c'mon Si," she moans. "You know exactly what I want, baby."

Still groggy, Simon attempts to push her away again as the muffled sound of pounding feet going down the stairs reaches his ears.

"Who's here?" he asks, confused, trying to sit up, but Peach refuses to budge.

"Don't worry about it," she coos, holding him down as she grinds on his crotch. "It's just Deedee and some other chick leavin'. They came by to get her stuff."

A spike of fear lances through the fog in his addled brain. "She's leavin' me? Why is she leavin'?"

Peach chuckles lowly, riding him back down into the bed when he bucks underneath her. "Don't think she took it too well when I told her we're together now. Guess she's movin' out."

Simon erupts. "No!"

Furious, he slings her off like a rag doll, adrenaline giving him a burst of strength, but it's short-lived. As soon as he rolls out of bed and onto his feet, he staggers back, knocking his lamp off the nightstand.

Wha' the bloody hell is wrong with me? And wot the fuck is Peach doin' in my bed?

His sluggish brain tries to parse out the day's events, but his mind draws a blank after stopping by that pub in Blackheath. He went to the loo, talked to Price, then had another drink...

"Ya drugged me," he snarls at her, giving his head a shake to clear it. He watches her climb back to her feet on the other side of the bed, a feral glint in her eye.

She shrugs at his accusation, not denying it. "I may have put a little somethin' in your Dewer's to help ya relax. You're too uptight, big guy. Ya needed to loosen up, have a little fun," she says, dragging her fingers down the red lingerie barely covering her body.

Grimacing at her wanton display, he tries to process his present situation, but it's like wading through molasses, slow and frustrating. He can see her moving, creeping around the bed, and it suddenly occurs to him that they shouldn't even be here, at his house. He was supposed to take her somewhere else, but he can't quite remember where...

Peach keeps inching closer to him, a predator stalking her prey. He needs a weapon. A gun or...

A knife!

There's a knife in his nightstand. He fumbles with the drawer pull, his hand not cooperating with him. Keeping his eyes locked on her, he manages to slide open the drawer and reach inside. Just as he grips the hilt of the knife, Peach lunges forward and slams it on his wrist.

Simon grunts in pain and yanks his hand free of the drawer. The sudden movement sends him pinwheeling backwards into the wall, barely managing to stay on his feet.

"What were ya goin' for, Ghost? This blade?" she asks, brandishing it. The dim light catches on the polished steel. "What the fuck were you goin' to do? Attack me?" Her voice shakes as she points the knife at him. "You don't do that to someone you LOVE!" she shrieks. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

Simon blanches at the word. It sounds wrong coming out of her mouth, blasphemous. She'll never understand the meaning of it, because she's incapable of feeling it. Still, she's deluded enough to convince herself that her obsession with him is the same thing. He knows the difference, though. Because of you. You taught him what real love feels like, and this ain't it.

"'Cause I don't bloody love ya, ya mad cunt!" he roars at her, seething with fury. "Never have, never fuckin' will."

Her eyes go wide, pain flashing in their depths for a brief moment, but then a calm expression settles over her features, her eyes going flat. She tilts her head as she regards him.

"Kevin said he didn't love me, either. When I asked him to leave his wife for me, he laughed. He said it was just a fling, that what we had together didn't really mean anything." She sneers. "Lying, fucking coward." She takes a step closer and smirks. "Did ya know, he pulled a knife on me, too? Just like you tried to do. And do you know what I did?" she asks, then snarls. "I took it away from him and gutted him like a fuckin' pig!"

Then Peach darts forward and stabs him.

-

prev. <<< | >>> next

[yesimwriting]

Felix and lovie:

L: but... arent promise rings meant for bfs and gfs?

Felix: i mean, we made the promise to always be close so its our promise ring i think.

L: i guess youre right!

Farleigh: 🧍🏾‍♂️

i want to queue posts before i go on my trip but i also i love instant gratification ahhh

this isn’t exactly promise rings but i think it feels pretty close

His room still smells the same--faint traces of smoke and cologne blending into slightly humid air. You're not sure what you expected. Felix left for a weekend for some family function his mother wanted him to attend. Two days.

Not a significant amount of time. Not enough time to change anything, and yet you felt every second of it. You missed him. Missed him more than you think you'd ever be willing to admit.

"Did you miss me?" There's no way he knows what you were thinking about, but there's something about the slight tilt of his head and his barely there smile.

You hold his gaze for a beat before letting your attention fall to your shoes. "Maybe a little."

Felix's mouth falls open in a mock gasp. "Maybe?" And then, still completely appalled, "A little?"

You press your lips together into a firm line to keep from laughing at his reaction. Felix moves to stand, leaving his bed in favor of approaching you. In an attempt to hold your ground, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Felix disregards your feeble line of defense, continuing forward until you're within easy reach.

"I could say--" Felix places a firm hand on your shoulder. A sound between a laugh and something slightly more panicked tumbles through your sentence. "I could say I missed you a lot, but--" Another hand on your other shoulder, another clumsy laugh. "But I don't need to feed your ego."

He pulls you forward gently until your face hits his chest. You halfheartedly lift your arm in an empty attempt to push him away. You're quicker to embrace defeat, glad for the excuse to be near him, really near him.

You hugged Felix when he first got back to campus, but with his usual crowd all desperate to catch up with him and Farleigh right there, you felt a little more watched than usual. You couldn't do what you really wanted, couldn't take a beat to just absorb Felix's warmth.

"So you were being mean."

You're only half listening, more focused on wrapping your arms around Felix. The scent of his detergent is stronger than usual, nearly obscuring the scent of his cigarettes entirely. Maybe he smoked less this weekend. You try to picture Felix under some kind of authority, sneaking cigarettes out on a patio to avoid upsetting his parents. It's so normal, a part of you regrets not getting to see him like that.

His hand presses against your back. "Lovie?"

You lift your head enough to look at him. "Yeah?"

Felix's eyebrows briefly pull together. He watches you for a moment before grinning. "You missed me."

His smugness has the instinct to protest crawling up your throat, but there's something so content about his expression, you can't bring yourself to deny it the way you usually would. "I missed you. A lot."

Felix's grin broadens. He tilts his head downwards, his lips briefly brushing against your forehead. He straightens before responding, "You could have come with me."

You did meet Felix's sister during your Christmas break trip, and she was really nice, but Felix's world is still something you're vaguely wary of. Maybe you could have come around to the idea of meeting Felix's parents, but the thought of attending some event intended only for his family was a little overwhelming, especially because Felix didn't invite any of his other friends.

"It was a family thing."

Felix lets out a soft sigh. "I brought Farleigh."

"Farleigh's your cousin, he was already invited."

He pulls back slightly, his hands moving away from your back as he lets go of you. "No one cares if you bring a date to those things." It's the same argument he used in an attempt to get you to go with him. "It's to keep the night bearable."

"Bearable?" You beam. "You missed me."

From you, it's an accusation. Felix's eyebrows draw together, like he's unsure why you felt the need to say something so obvious. "I missed you." He shifts back on his heels in a way that borders on uncertain. "So much, I brought you back a present."

You raise your eyebrows at that. Felix is a thorough person. When he gives someone his attention, that person has his entire focus. When Felix gives presents, he tends to be just as generous. It's not a bad thing, but it is something the two of you have talked about. Yes, you're best friends, but that doesn't mean you want Felix splurging on you. Even if it's not splurging to him.

Felix turns, walking towards the bag that he left on his bed. With his back to you, it's a little easier to watch him openly. He went to English countryside for some charity event put on by some cousin. What could he have gotten? "A present?"

He unzips his bag. "Yes," Felix shifts through his close, "A present."

When Felix turns to face you again, there's a something small and square in his hand. The closer Felix gets, the clearer the object becomes. A box that's oddly reminiscent of a jewelry box.

With an abruptness that doesn't seem to suit him, Felix extends his arm to hand you the box. You watch Felix as you take the box, doing your best to decipher his expression. He's strangely blank.

You open the box, revealing a ring safely tucked between cushioned velvet. There's an image carved into the flat face of the ring. The carving of an arrow-pierced hand emerging from a crown is vaguely familiar. You might have cared about placing the image more if the ring was less stunning.

"You um--you wear a lot of rings, so I thought..."

You do wear a lot of rings, there are several on your fingers right now. "It's really pretty."

"My mum was going through some older pieces this weekend and it reminded me of you." The explanation is mumbled cautiously, Felix's attention shifting from you to the ring and then back to you.

Your lips part, an uncertainty you're not accustomed to feeling around him making it hard to speak. You don't know everything about Felix's family history, but you know enough to understand that when he says something from his home is old, he means it.

"Lex." The gesture tugs at a sentimental part of you that exists solely in the pit of your stomach. "That's really sweet, and it's really pretty, but I can't take some family heirloom from you."

His eyebrows pinch together in a way that feels more confused than directly unhappy. "You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you." Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, I've got loads of these, it's just been sitting in some closet."

Felix is watching you with wide, almost pleading eyes. You let your gaze fall back onto the ring. With no warning, Felix places a hand over yours. "We'll trade."

You don't fully understand what he's getting at until Felix starts to straighten your fingers. He twists the ring that's on your ring finger. It's a nice ring, a simple band with thin carvings that you picked up at a vintage jewelry shop on a whim, but it's not exactly an even trade.

Felix slides the ring off your finger. A trade is a little easier to accept. The two of you share things like bracelets all the time. "Okay," you pause to take a breath, "But if you ever want it back..."

"Yeah, I know." The words feel like a dismissal. You narrow your eyes briefly, but don't push the subject the way you normally would. You're too happy to see him to care about technicalities.

Felix pulls the ring out of the box and slips onto your finger. You bend your fingers and turn over your hand to get a feel for the ring and its size. It fits. "It's really nice."

"It suits you."

Before Felix can pull your ring onto his finger, you put your hand over his. He lets take your ring from between his fingers. You hold your thumb beneath Felix's palm, the rest of your fingers curling over his knuckles. Felix keeps his fingers straight as you place your own ring on his finger. "There."

Felix grins. "There?"

"Yeah, it's--" You ignore the warmth attempting to make its way up your neck. "It's in place."

He stretches his fingers, studying the way the band looks on him. There's something about his expression you can't quite read, but it doesn't seem unpleasant. He drops his hand before you can attempt to decipher his thoughts any further. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

You drag your thumb against the side of the ring. "Yeah, a movie sounds nice."

----

fun fact the design carved into the ring is supposed to be the catton family crest :)

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

[hvnlygrl]

⌞ REANIMATION ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | tweener apolskis x reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 6.7k

જ⁀➴ warnings | follows the story of his prison break era so if you haven’t watched it’s a spoiler!! death, ANGST, heartbreak, back and forth with tweener, mentions of cuts/bruises, mention of murderers and rapists in jail (allusion to rape in prison), some fluff (i’m not a total monster). lmk if i forgot any

જ⁀➴ synopsis | tweener was your one true love. but life kept getting in the way of your relationship while simultaneously finding a way to bring you back together. or, the 5 times you kissed and the one time he couldn’t kiss you back.

જ⁀➴ notes | okay this was supposed to be a blurb but i got a little carried away!

જ⁀➴ april 17th | april blurb queue

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

as fast as tweener appeared into your life he disappeared. you were used to it, more than used to it, it was your routine with him. but this was different.

the first time you kissed david, you were barely sixteen. he was seventeen with big green eyes and a smile that would daze an entire room. he was your first kiss at charlotte’s diner on your first date. he kissed you like he loved you, which, though he had no idea at the time, he did.

you met him in one of your classes, instantly enamored by him. he introduced himself as tweener, laughing as you tried to pry his real name out of him. you tried for weeks, finally finding out under the bleachers at the homecoming game as the two of you shared a joint.

"seriously," you raised a curious brow as you passed the joint to him, "what is it? i know for a fact your mom and dad didn't name you tweener."

"you really wanna know that bad?" he smirked at you before taking a puff, your heart fluttering in your stomach at the sight. god, he was beautiful. the way the smoke trailed slowly up his face, the way he let it flow from his lips.

"yeah," you smirk back, big doe eyes gazing up at him as a smile crept onto your lips. "i do."

"fine," he huffed jokingly, "gimme a kiss and i'll tell you what it is."

"a kiss? seriously?" you'd be lying if you said you didn't wanna kiss him as soon as you met him. "you do this to all the girls?"

his cheeks flushed red at that, "nah," shaking his head as he began wringing his hands, confidence slightly depleted. "just you, sweetheart. i don't know what it is about you, but i figured i'd shoot my shot."

"fine," you mimicked his response from before, "i'll give you a kiss."

his smirk returned as he leaned closer to you, eyes closed and lips puckered. you leaned in, eyes mostly closed but open just enough to dodge his lips at the last second and peck his cheek. "i'm not that easy, apolskis. hand it over."

tweener laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back at you and extending the hand holding the joint, "yea, i should've figured that one, huh?"

"yep," you smile triumphantly then take a couple puffs. "now, what's your name?"

"my name is david." he has no idea why he's telling you this, considering he only met you at a little over a month ago. the two of you had been texting back and forth ever since, though. he had to admit, only to himself, that he was developing serious feelings for you.

"david," you repeat softly, loving the way the name falls from your lips. "i like that."

"yea?" he raises his brows at you, "what are you doin' tomorrow night?"

"it depends."

"on what?"

"if you're asking me on a date or not," you feel the warmth filling your chest, the butterflies in your stomach as the saliva in your mouth dissipates almost instantly.

"it depends." he mimics you this time.

"on what?"

"if you'd say yes or not."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the second time you kissed david was two years later. this time, you were eighteen and him nineteen. you’d been graduated for a few months and he was working as a busboy at a local restaurant. after that date with him, the two of you went steady for about a year before your family up and moved to st. louis, and the two of you just trailed off. never truly ending it, but never really continuing it. you wanted to try long-distance but the fights got in the way and the change in setting, friends, school, clubs, all of it— it was like you had absolutely nothing in common anymore. so the mental distance grew and the two of you just faded until the calls stopped coming and the texts turned into being left on read.

you were back in chicago visiting some old friends for one of their birthdays. part of you, in the back of your mind, prayed that you'd see him again, get some form of closure on the whole thing. the rest of you hoped that he was onto bigger and better things than chicago.

the restaurant your friend janie wanted to go to for her birthday dinner was one that you grew up loving. charlotte's diner was a local delicacy, a little hole-in-the-wall diner that had the best onion rings and burgers you'd ever had. it was retro on the inside, with the old 60's style bench seats and tables, lots of old photos and records on the wall and even an old-fashioned working jukebox that you could pop a quarter into and listen to music from, your favorite part about it as a child.

charlotte's was also the restaurant david took you to for your first official date. the nostalgia was nearly debilitating, your mind trailing back to dinners with your family in the corner booth, dancing on your dad's shoes at six years old, studying with friends at the bar, and the most saddening— your date with david.

he was such a gentleman that entire night, you recall fondly. he held the door for you, paid for your meal, he even showed up with flowers. the two of you stayed there for hours, until charlotte came out and kicked you out at nearly 2 AM so they could close up.

snapping you from your thoughts, janie smacks your arm, "what are you getting?"

"uh," you go to look at the menu before realizing that you would probably just get the same thing you always get. "double cheeseburger with onion rings. it's my go-to."

she nods at that, scanning over the menu that she also had committed to memory. "i want something different than normal," she hums, chewing at her cheeks. "i might do chili cheese fries."

"those are really good too," you nod, your other friends chirping in their orders and thoughts on the subject.

the waitress comes to the table, her name tag reading jordyn in a bubbly handwriting with little stars and smiley faces splattered across the open space. each of you tell her your orders and she walks to the back of house to let the kitchen know.

you fish out a few quarters from your purse before heading to the jukebox. joan jett, madonna, elvis, and other classic 70's and 80's hits fill the music archive. you flip through the slides searching for something specific.

you smile softly upon finding it; all out of love by air supply. the memories flood back even more, your mind now overtaken by the sound of david's horrible singing and your giggling. he insisted on playing the song every time the two of you went to charlotte's, swearing that it was exactly how he felt about you.

the song fills the quaint diner, the sound of air supply's melancholic voice overtaking the sounds of dishes clanking and clacking from the back of house.

david exits the back through one of the sets of swinging kitchen doors. he's got headphones plugged into his phone, one earbud in and the other one tucked into the top of his shirt. he's clearing off tables, as he's done a thousand times over.

then he hears it. air supply. more specifically, though, the song he can't listen to at all without getting choked up.

he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with you, then your family moved and it was like all his hopes and dreams came crashing down around him.

then he thought about it; nobody plays that song here. nobody listens to that song in this day and age.

so, with his heart pounding in his throat, he turns and scans the room. his eyes go wide, almost as if he'd seen a ghost appear on the other side of the diner.

he watches you intently for a moment, watches as you stand over the juke box, unmoving as if you're trapped in a trance and he knows. he knows exactly what's going through your mind in that moment because it's going through his too.

he musters up the courage to go over to you after a few moments, knowing that he needs to do it now before you go and sit back down with your friends.

david makes his way over to you, bus tub in hand, gnawing at the insides of his lips. what should he even say to you? what will you say to him? he's petrified, honestly, trying desperately to figure out what to say to you.

then you turn your head, as if you felt his presence, your own eyes going wide and your waterline filling slowly. “holy shit,” you breathe out, gulping softly as you notice him. “david?”

“hey, sweetheart,” he flashes you that smile, the one that you’ve thought about nearly daily since you moved away. this time, though, it's more melancholic, doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the girls at the table are watching the two of you intently, not quite close enough to hear the conversation but they’ve got an idea of what’s going on. janie feels your pain and confusion from across the diner, knowing each and every part of the relationship since the beginning as your best friend. she’s heard nothing but david this and david that since you moved away.

you stand there, unmoving as you take in the sight of him. he’s still as gorgeous as ever, his hair freshly cut and his jawline somehow sharper than before. he looks as though he’s been working out, his biceps popping through the tight-fitting work shirt.

“it’s good to see you,” he utters softly, completely unsure of himself. “how, uh, how have you been?”

“good,” you nod, “really good. what about you? you look great.”

“i’ve been a’ight,” he shrugs, gesturing around himself, “still here, so not much i can really do these days, but i been makin’ it.”

“i’m here with janie and the girls for her birthday, but, we should get together before i leave, okay?” your heart aches at the fact that you have to end the conversation.

“yea, we should,” he nods immediately, smiling more at that, “i get off at 10 if that’s not too late for you, i know you got an early bedtime.”

you laugh at the fact that he remembers that, “never too late for you, davey.”

he picks up on the double meaning behind your words, his gut clenching at the nickname he hasn’t heard in two years. “great.”

“great,” you echo, a soft smile gracing your face. “see you tonight.”

“see you tonight, sweetheart.”

throughout the dinner and for the rest of the night, david was all you could think about. every time he came out to bus a table, the two of you locked eyes, your heart jumping each and every time. he’d flash a smile at you and a wink and you’d grin and turn away, just like old times.

by the time it finally reached 10, you were back at the diner, sitting in your old favorite booth in the corner, doodling in your notebook. he slides into the booth next to you around 10:05.

“sorry i’m late,” he smiles at you, “charlotte needed me to clean a few things in the back before she’d let me clock out.”

“no worries,” you smile back, “you wanna get out of here?”

he nods before sliding out of the booth, holding his hand out for you just like he used to.

you grab his hand, letting him lead you out of the diner to his truck. “you still have this thing?”

“hey, don’t diss my baby,” he holds his arms out defensively, “she’s never let me down.”

“what about that time it was pouring and we were trapped outside the movie theater?”

“that was one time!”

the two of you burst into laughter as you slide into the bench seat of the truck. he leaves it turned off, just allowing you to talk in peace.

“never thought i’d see you again,” he mutters softly after a moment of silence.

“same,” you hum back, “i’m glad i did though, i uh, i’m really sorry for the way it all went down.”

“none of that was your fault, sweetheart, don’t let that get to you,” he brushes it off, letting his arm fall over your shoulder. “i’m just glad you’re back.”

“me too, davey,” you relish the feeling of his arm around you, allowing yourself to let your weight fall into his side. “god, i missed you.”

he could cry at that statement, “me too, baby, me too.”

you turn your head up toward him, not entirely sure of where the boost of confidence came from, and kiss him. the feeling of your lips against his after so long has your head reeling, his hands falling into place cupping your jaw and the back of your head. it’s so intense, so full of love even after all this time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the third time you kissed david was in fox river. after your reunion in chicago, you spent the night together before you went back to missouri. you cried the entire way home, angry at the universe for forcing you apart again, angry at your parents for taking you away in the first place, angry at yourself for not being able to let him go.

after about six months, you began feeling better about the situation, and came to grips with the fact that there was nothing else you could do. you went about your life, got a job at the library near campus and spent most of your shifts drawing.

you couldn’t help that half of your doodles were the bits and pieces of david and your relationship with him that you had, he was your inspiration. he had been your inspiration since the first time you saw him. jukeboxes and little miniature doodles of his side profile and his truck and other moments and trinkets you shared with him over time filled the pages of your notebook.

when you heard the news of his arrest and his conviction and sentence to fox river you sobbed for days. you couldn’t comprehend how he could’ve been sent to prison six months after you saw him. couldn’t understand what was so bad about his life that he had to commit grand larceny. you didn’t even know what that meant until you looked it up, either, so you were almost sure he didn’t either.

you went to fox river, went to visit him, to find out the truth and figure out how to get over him. maybe this was how you’d be able to end it once and for all.

the prison was dimly lit and smelled like mildew. it held an air of depression and anger, pieces of all of its prisoner’s, both past and present, spirits trapped within its walls. guards led you to the visiting room. since it was a non-violent crime, he was able to sit at a table with you.

david’s head perked up at the sound of bellick’s voice. “tweener, y’got a visitor!”

he was confused, unsure of who could possibly be visiting him in prison. he got up from his cot, turned his back to bellick and held his hands behind him so brad could hook the cuffs on his wrists. he kept his guard up, face stone cold as he traversed down the corridors to the visiting room. his mind was reeling, desperately trying to figure out who the visitor could be before he got there. maybe his mom? nah, most likely not. and definitely not his dad since he hadn’t seen the man since he was fourteen. couldn’t be his lawyer, he already came the day before.

he was truly stumped.

not once did it ever occur to him that it could’ve been you.

david freezes in the doorway at the sight of you. sitting at the cold metal table, picking at your cuticles quickly and violently as your hands tremble with anxiety. you’d never been in a prison before, never even knew anyone who’d been arrested.

bellick gave him a sharp shove after removing the cuffs from his wrists. “go on, tweener. you got five minutes.”

your head snaps over toward the use of david’s old nickname. your heart shatters at the sight of him. he looks so small in this place, so young compared to everyone else. and he is, he’s not even old enough to buy a beer yet and he’s surrounded by murderers and other horrible people, who’ve done all types of unspeakable crimes. monsters.

a lamb trapped in the lion’s den.

“y/n?” he whispers as he sits at the table. “what are you- how did you know where i was?”

“janie sent me the article,” you reply quietly. “what are you doing here, david? what did you do?”

“listen to me, baby,” he pleads.

“don’t.” you snap back sharply, he flinches. “don’t call me that.”

he shrinks at your response. it’s like he can’t even look at you without wanting to puke. he puts his hands atop the table, grasping each other as he takes a deep breath. “it’s not what you think, i swear it. i’m not a criminal, i’m not— i don’t belong here.”

you scoff wryly at that, “grand larceny? that sounds pretty fucking bad, david.”

“alls i did was steal a damn baseball card from jt’s dad,” his eyes are full of despair as he lifts his head to look up at you. “look, i’m telling you the truth bab—y/n, i mean it. we were going through his dad’s old box of baseball cards and i-i didn’t think he’d even notice it was gone, but he did. then i get pulled over and next thing i know i'm in here with murderers and rapists and i,” he breathes out shakily, “i’m so scared all the time, my bunkie—- he’s, uh, well let’s just say he’s one of the ones i just mentioned.”

your stomach churns at that, and at the bruises and cuts you notice on his features. his lips cracked and slightly scabbed over, his eyes sunken in from lack of sleep and his jaws and cheekbones littered with nearly healed cuts and bruises.

“what did they do to you?” you whisper in horror.

“i can’t,” he shakes his head, looking away from you to bellick who flashes him a peace sign, signaling that he has 2 minutes left. “i don’t got much time left, please, i really don’t wanna spend it talking about me, aight?”

your shoulders drop with defeat, the cold resolve you walked in with melting and transforming to despair as you see him in this fragile state, a shell of himself—of the man you love. of the man you fell in love with. “okay, davey.”

you watch his lip tremble for a moment before he takes a sharp breath, letting out a breathless laugh. “i’m happy you’re here, seriously you have no idea how good it is to see your beautiful face, baby, but i don’t want you coming back here ever again, you got me?”

“but—“

“no.”

“okay,” you nod again, eyes filling with tears as you lean toward him, “i love you, david. i always have, i always will. i just need you to know that, okay?”

his face contorts in pain, biting harshly at his lip to contain the emotion threatening to burst out of him. “i love you, baby, i never stopped.”

you lean in, taking a risk that you know might get you in trouble but you don’t care, you can’t leave without it.

your lips clash against his, his hands coming up to grip your face desperately like a man starving. the kiss lasts all of three seconds before bellick appears behind him, cussing and hollering about not touching the prisoners.

you flinch at the use of the word at david. prisoner. he’s just a kid, you want to retort angrily, but you hold your tongue.

tears flow freely down your cheeks as you watch bellick return the cuffs to david’s wrists behind his back. “i love you,” he mouths silently at you, giving you his signature wink, his expression cold yet full of emotion that only you can notice. “don’t come back here, y/n.”

by the time you make it back to your car, you’re inconsolable. ugly, hot tears flow down your face and into your mouth as you pant, nearly on the edge of a panic attack. you grip at your shirt and your jeans, feeling far too tight all of a sudden and crank the a/c to the coldest setting.

you try to self-soothe, turning the radio on to drown out the utter despair you feel, the pain only amplifying as all out of love flows through the speakers of your shitty old 4-runner.

the tears only stream harder and faster now. you know you should change the station, or at least turn the radio off, but you can’t. it’s as if the stupid cheesy song from the 80’s is all you have left of the man you thought you would marry one day.

and at this point, it is all you have left of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the fourth time you kissed david was in colorado.

you had just gotten off work at the library in st. louis, making your way to your car at the back of the building.

it wasn’t the first time today you felt as though you were being watched, the eerie sensation causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand at attention, your breaths sharp and shallow as you speed-walk through the dim parking lot.

the battery in your key fob was dead, one of the mundane tasks you’ve been telling yourself to complete for months, one of the many that’s gotten swept under the rug and added to tomorrow’s list too many times.

by the time you make it to your car, your hands are shaking with fear and stress as you struggle to unlock the driver’s door of the 4-runner. the key jams in the lock of the door, an issue that had been occurring for months on and off.

in the reflection of the window, you see someone approaching, only causing you to tremble more as you cuss at the key, your heart pounding in your throat. your other hand reaches into your bag, gripping the handle of the knife david gifted you years ago. it was your favorite color, with your initials carved into the mahogany handle. he gave it to you after dropping your old one into the chicago river on accident while on an attempt at a picnic date. you didn’t mind at the time, especially since getting the new one from him, with that much thought put into it, was much more special anyway.

you feel hands around your mouth and arms before you even have time to react, a scream caught in your throat as you begin thrashing desperately.

then you hear it. him. that voice you know all too well.

“y/n, stop, stop it’s okay,” he soothes softly, head scanning the area. “it’s me.”

you stop fighting him and begin to calm down as he lets you go. you turn to face him, eyes wide in shock, your pupils still blown with the adrenaline of everything.

“david?”

“shh!” he keeps looking around him, making sure nobody else is outside or even parked in the lot. he’s got a baseball cap on with a jacket, the brim pulled low on his face. though most of it is captured within the hat, you can tell he’s got a buzz cut. “listen, i need your help. i didn’t know where else to go.”

“i can't,” you gape at him, in complete awe at the man standing in front of you for so many reasons. “david, you’re a fugitive. you broke out of prison i can’t be seen with you. i-i want to have a life—i can’t get dragged into this, i’m sorry.”

“no listen,” he pleads, “i wouldn’t be here if i had anywhere else to go. i just need to get to utah, aight? then i’m outta your hair forever i swear to god, i am. i’ll die if i don't get there as soon as possible, y/n. i can’t do this alone and i can't trust anyone but you, baby.”

you sigh deeply, simply staring at him for a moment. “why utah?”

“i can’t tell you,” he shakes his head.

“then no deal,” you shrug, “i’m not driving you 20 hours across the country with no idea where we’re heading or why utah is so damn important.”

david hesitates for a moment as if he’s weighing his options— options he doesn’t have. “there’s $5 million buried on a ranch in utah and i’m gonna get it. i’m giving you half and i’m using the rest to get me out of the states and a whole new identity.”

you have no words to reply to that, simply blinking at him as you try to process it.

“like i said, out of your hair as soon as i get it.”

the entire thing seemed much too good to be true. “what’s the catch, here?”

“there’s seven other people trying to go get it too.”

you sigh heavily, eyes closed tightly with a mixture of aggravation and sadness. “get in the car.”

“wha—seriously?”

“get in the car, david,” you repeat, much firmer the second time as you begin climbing into the vehicle.

he does as he’s told, clips his seatbelt in and leans his seat back slightly. “you just gotta get me to utah and then i’m outta your hair. i promise you that, sweetheart. i’ll send you the money as soon as i can and you won’t ever have to think about me or worry about me ever again, aight?”

you drive in silence for a while, unresponsive to his ramblings as you think. about his words, about your situation, about the money, about the others that escaped with him that might beat you there — then what?

“no,” you shake your head after a few beats of silence.

“no?”

“i’m not just taking you to utah,” you won’t look at him, the anger consuming all the atoms in your body in this very moment, “david. i haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day that i met you in mr. washburn’s class. do you remember that?”

“of course i remember that.” it’s soft spoken, almost as if a child were being berated by their parent.

“i’ve been in love with you for three years now damn near,” you let out a harsh scoff, “dreamt about you, about us and a future that i wanted more than anything. that i still want. and i know it’s not all your fault, but prison, david? escaping prison?!”

he flinches at the shrillness of your tone, “you don’t understand, y/n, i was gonna die in there. i’d have killed myself if i didn’t make it out soon.”

a tear slides down your cheek at that. “i know. i saw it all over your face when i went to fox river to visit you,” you pause for a beat, gnawing at the insides of your cheeks anxiously, “which is why i'm helping you until the end. i’m helping you, and i’m coming with you.”

“what?”

“out of the states, i’m coming with you.”

“y/n, no, i can’t let you do that. i-i can’t let you get hurt because of me.”

“that’s not your choice to make, i’m coming with you and i’m making damn sure you live to see the end of this, okay? that’s the deal or i’m stopping the car and you can get to utah your damn self, you got it?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths as he takes in your words. “aight fine.”

“good, glad we’re on the same page,” you give him a soft smile as you keep driving.

after about twelve hours on the road, you stop at a motel in watkins, colorado. it’s around 8 in the morning, and you go to the front desk alone to rent out a room for the day.

the plan was to sleep through the daylight hours and leave after sundown in hopes that would be enough for him to go undetected.

you return a few minutes later and enter the room by yourself, leaving the door unlocked for him. he waits a few beats before heading in, the brim on his hat pulled as low as he could get it.

once he makes it into the room, he locks the deadbolt and chain behind him, fastening the curtains closed as tight as he can get them.

he lets out a deep breath of relief as he sits on the edge of the bed. you stand near him, finally giving yourself a moment to take in the sight of the man in front of you.

david looks up at you, big green eyes wide and full of admiration for the woman in front of him, and full of regret for dragging you into this mess.

you move to stand between his legs, leaning down to cup his face in your hands. “did i ever tell you how gorgeous you are?”

he lets out a laugh at your question, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you in closer. “did i ever tell you how much i love you?”

you nod, leaning down as you kiss him. this time it’s not desperate, but full of all of the things you wish you could’ve said to each other over the years. all of the regrets and the what if’s flowing between your lips wordlessly.

after a few minutes, you pull away, “okay, go take a shower, then we can get some sleep and head out tonight.”

he nods, giving you one more peck on the lips before heading into the bathroom.

david’s in the shower when you hear the knock on the door. your heart in your throat, you move to check the peephole. it’s a cop, his cruiser parked outside the motel.

did he see you? did he see david? does he know?

you take a deep breath before opening the door, “hi, officer! what can i do for you?”

the water in the bathroom turned off before you opened the door, so you made sure to say the first part loud enough for david to hear but not so loud that it was odd.

“hello, miss,” he greets you with a kind smile, “all the police departments in the area have been tasked with being sure these images get out to the public and seeing if we can gather any leads about where these fugitives may be. can i show you some images?”

“sure thing,” you close the door behind you as you step out onto the front porch area of the motel, “my little sister just got out the shower and she has a tendency to forget her clothes in the room, so i don’t want her to freak out when she sees you,” you explain naturally, letting out a soft laugh.

“of course,” he nods, seemingly unaware that one of the fugitives he’s about to show you is on the other side of that door. he hands you a stack of seven pictures, “let me know if you’ve seen any of these men the last few days or so.” mentally, you’ve already begun preparing yourself to see david’s mugshot and not react.

though you kept a stone face for the cop as you said, “no, sir, i haven’t seen any of these guys in my life,” you couldn’t help the way your stomach twisted at the image of david, eyes full of fear as he stood in that place. it’s like your mom always used to say, the eyes don’t lie.

the officer thanked you for your time before moving on to the next room. you made sure to enter through the smallest crack in the door you could possibly fit through, and locked it behind you.

“what was that?” david questions from the doorway of the bathroom, fully dressed and eyes blown with anxiety.

“he was showing me the mugshots of all the guys that escaped,” you explained quietly, “wanted to know if i’d seen any of them around.”

david lets out a deep sigh as he rubs his hands over his face roughly. “god, all of this is so fucked.”

“hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you move toward him, putting your hands on his shoulders gently, “we’re gonna figure it out and when we do, we’ll be $5 million richer.”

he scans your face, almost as if he’s committing it to memory, then gives you another kiss. this time, full of desperation. he pulls away, pulling you close as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you were sure he could suffocate you with how tight he was holding you, but you didn’t care.

after a few long moments of standing like that, he pulls away, “go get cleaned up, sweetheart, so we can get some rest, aight?”

you nod, giving him a sweet smile as you make your way to the bathroom.

once inside, he rummages through your purse for your notebook and favorite pen. tears stream down his cheeks at the drawings and poems littering the pages.

drawings of him, his truck, the house you grew up in. his old dog, rusty. his necklace and rings all sketched out in different ways all over the place. little poems about him and the two of you and the despair that rang through your soul daily at the way things had to end.

he hates that he’s about to be the reason for more pages like this.

he takes the pen, opens the spiral bound notebook to the last page and flips the cover around the back. he writes, in his unique, nearly graffiti-like handwriting;

i’m sorry. i can’t let you get hurt. i love you more than life itself, please go home. you gotta let me go.

— D

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the fifth time you kissed david was on the front porch of your own home.

after david left you in that motel room, you spent days in bed. it felt as if life was playing some cruel, cruel trick on you. you had no idea what to do, no way to contact him or even know if he was alive. no way to know what was going on in his head or get a proper goodbye, even.

you had no energy, none to draw or write, only to cry and lie there as if there was no purpose anymore. you had him, and you lost him. again and again and again— the story of your life with david apolskis.

you’re making lunch, a chicken and dumpling soup that your mom taught you how to make a while back. it’s simple, but a classic that somehow always makes you feel even the slightest bit better.

your dog starts barking at the window, and you’re sure it’s just the mailman or somebody walking their own dog in front of the house. but ringo is relentless, growing more and more agitated as whatever it is gets closer.

you turn the burner on the stove to the lowest setting and stir the pot one last time before heading toward the window to see what’s causing all the commotion. a knock rattles the front door before you even make it to the window.

upon opening the door, you gasp, eyes wide and agony written across your expression.

“davey?”

“i don’t got much time, aight?” he starts. he’s drenched in sweat and he’s got a scabbed-over gash across the side of his head. “i had to tell you somethin. what you did for me back at the motel, i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget you. you’ve been the love of my life since i met you, y/n. i’m sorry it all went down this way but i love you.” he moves toward you, grabs your face and kisses you.

you don’t have time to react, you barely have time to kiss him back before feds are on your doorstep.

“i’ll be writing you, baby,” he’s smiling as he puts his hands on his head. “i love you, don't you forget that.”

you’re sobbing as you stand, motionless in the doorway of your own home. you watch as they cuff him.

“i’ll write you, sweetheart,” he flashes you that damn wink and you feel as though you can’t breathe. you drop to your knees, sobs flowing freely from your throat as you watch them drag him down your sidewalk and to unmarked black SUVs, skirting away.

you make eye contact with one of the agents, the one that seems to be in charge of the operation. he flashes you a quarter of a smile as he watches you break down in the threshold.

he moves toward you, stopping on the top step of the porch. “listen, kid,” he begins.

“get off my porch,” you choke out, looking up at him with red eyes before pulling yourself up.

“do yourself a favor and let him go,” he finishes, walking back to his car and leaving without saying another word.

you force yourself back into the house, flop down on the couch, and scream at the top of your lungs into the couch cushions. ringo’s by your side, licking and nudging you in an attempt to give you some sort of comfort.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the last time you kissed david was in chicago.

eight months after he showed up on your doorstep, you found out his location. janie sent it to you, along with a long message about finding peace and getting back to your own life. you didn’t reply, simply liked the message and saved the address for a different day, a day that you could muster up the courage to go and visit.

and today, the day of his birthday, was that day. you felt like you owed it to him — to yourself to go and tell him everything you never had the time to before.

the drive is in silence, a bouquet of blue and yellow flowers rests in your passenger seat, david’s favorite colors. you wear the same outfit you wore on your first date to charlotte’s all those years ago.

you park on the side of some gravel road, sneakers crunching against the rocks as you make your way to david. tears are already streaming by the time you see him.

he’s beautiful. a picture of him from his senior year of high school embedded permanently into a marble headstone

david “tweener” apolskis.

until we meet again.

“hi, davey,” you sit on the grass in front of the stone, placing the flowers you brought into the little built-in holder at the bottom of the marble. ”happy birthday, baby.”

you let out a soft sob, “god, i wish you were here right now. i wish you could give me another hug or a kiss or something.”

your fingers trace over the carvings in the marble repeatedly. “i miss you, man. i miss all of it.”

you wipe at your face with the inside of your shirt, the sun beaming down on you harshly.

“i feel like i don’t know what i'm doing anymore. i wish you could be here, i wish we could’ve got the money and made it out of this hellhole and had our little life together. i should’ve been there for you.” you wished you could snap your fingers and reanimate him, bring him back to life like how they do on all those stupid sci-fi shows he used to make you watch with him.

your mind flashes images of him, like little movie reels floating through your head. him laughing and smiling, playing basketball, the two of you dancing and hugging and kissing. all of it, your entire lives together, reduced simply to memories.

after nearly two hours at the grave, you finally stood, tears streaming but no more sobs emitting past your lips.

you leaned down and kissed the top of the stone.

“until we meet again, my love.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hvnlygrl 2025 ©️

@brokendoor16 @wrenthewriterishere

[katyspersonal]

In defence of Shadow of the Erdtree + Getting my grudges with the fandom's bad takes off my chest

(! if you are seeing this caption it means the post was shared via queue feature, thus I must be STILL on my hiatus! will respond to comments when I am back online and thank all 5 of you for waiting for me! )

*deep, tired sigh* Allllright so... Ever since SoTE came out, it has been a rocky patch for me growing past initial shock, absorbing new lore and above all, dealing with some conflicts that transpired over it! In the end my grudges, as well as disagreements with popular attacks on this DLC accumulated enough to make me feel like smoking volcano, I swear.. You might have observed some anger already slipping through the cracks, but I've decided to place ALL of my opinions in one easily skippable post instead of turning my blog into a toxic pool with endless negative posts, so I'll just get to it!!

YEAH YEAH I know, a TRUE comedy genius remaking my DLC predictions bingo post to structure what I want to address fdhhdsf This is basically a 'so how is checking Elden Ring tag going today? :)' bingo but... it is easier to put it like this. I just need some way to simply vent my own frustrations because I hate everything featured in this image with THE burning rage. Putting my opinions and everything under cut but fair warning, not only it is going to be very long as if anyone who knows me is surprised dfhshfsd, but also very ANGRY! ANYWAYS!

1) "They excused genocide by giving Marika a sad backstory"

Sigh… Instantly off to a terrible start, and it is truly the most Tumblr take out of all Tumblr takes imaginable. So let me suggest something actually ground-breaking here… Giving your villain reasoning not only makes for a more realistic and interesting character, but is also crucial because nobody is just BORN evil.

sorry I had to I understand the temptation of wanting a villain whose sole drive is power control preserving privileges etc because it resonates more with the narratives proposed in real life and people's struggles, but not only even in real life things are FAR not as often as simple… but even if they were, Fromsoft is always dealing with more complicated matters that touch the nature of existence in general, and not just power and control over it someone could gain! Marika was not "just" evil even in the base game either, giving off the impression of someone wanting to build a perfect world of light, life, safety and abundance even at the expense of oppressing "potential threat" species (Omens serving as…. well, omens of the threat of returning to the primordial state of things or Albinaurics, creation of Nox, who angered the Greater Will itself once).

She waged war on the Fire Giants who had 'evil god of fire', caused natural disasters and whose fire existed as anathema to the Erdtree and declared her victory the start of the "better age"! That already spoke of a lot of complexity, without forcing the audience to agree with her motivations and actions but instead understand what weight they held in the grand scheme of things! Again: much like Gwyn who destroyed Dragons thus creating time, light and life the way it is known now and who for all his agenda against humans had a pretty solid reason to fear the darkness within them, which effects we've seen across the trilogy!

What DLC did add was simply a lore on Marika's origins as a Goddess, and what made her vulnerable enough for the Two Fingers to seek her! Divinity is further stated to not be a great thing via Miquella's whole arc, but the wish to change the world to the better hits harder when you personally were a victim of its fundamental corruption! She did not instantly become a good person over DLC lore, nor she was just evil person and nothing else in the base game! War against Fire Giants (maybe Dragons?) was the means to topple the current powers and establish her reign, oppressing certain species was the mean to preserve it. She searched not solely to take revenge on the Hornsent, but to build a different world where what they did would not happen, ironically ending up causing more injustice ANYWAYS! Miquella fell into this trap. Heck, GIDEON fell into this trap!

Even then, her machiavellian character does not explain why even after Hornsent were completely defeated that war continues forever through Messmer and his forces. Could this be just what Messmer insisted on and THUS she cast him away, or she lost any and all sight of what pusher her to it initially? In either case, even the game itself makes it very clear that Marika/Messmer are not heroes here in the SLIGHTEST!

On a more general note, detached from the specifics of this game: I do still find it more strange to be angry about villains being given sympathetic traits, as a concept. People who are just "born evil" are such a minority that they hardly can say anything about nature of men. Bad people, by proxy, are a combination of some sort of unhappy event (trauma, bad upbringing, faced oppression, mental illness that was not treated if not had its negative traits amplified due to environment, growing in propaganda and ignorance, abuse etc) and person's unwillingness or even inability to heal and stop the cycle of pain by refusing to cause more of it. It is not that simple, and often, people who were hurt so are past the point of not letting it make THEM evil, or lack resources to do so, or have their attempts to change if they WERE bad actively sabotaged.

This IS the true horror of existence: freedom of will itself being put in question. We might be not defined by our pain, but how we will respond to it might be defined by prior events, information we had, circumstances and society around us. How can ANYONE tell what they would be like if they endured the same? Can we be sure that we "endured the same but reacted differently" wasn't predefined by other, nicer factors? To be angry at the fact that a bad person who did bad things had a reasonable, even sympathetic explanation at the core of it all is to be angry that one's privilege to use "born evil" to mistreat and emotionally distance from those people is put into question!

In any case, 'explanation is not an excuse' works not only as a tool to still judge someone's sins, but ALSO to explain that writers making a character more elaborate is not a demand to like this character or excuse their actions! Everything has reason… This is why no one is entitled to declare they know what is good and bad for everyone. Not just people like Marika or Gwyn, but even us.

2) "Hornsent are dangerous and deserved extermination"

…okay, look, yes this is another heavy topic, and it does deserve a separate post which I did make already in the past ( x )! It is another topic that sort of transcends the boundaries of this story (another common Fromsoft W for making people question life and society themselves)! To put it down simply, of course no race is inherently evil, what is the reoccurring topic here is the culture! And what is on the surface is that Hornsent as culture and species, in many ways, are victims of its own oppressive religious institution and questionable traditions. Bonny Village's potentates are hostile, dangerous cult serving as a the weapon of """justice""" and """purification""" within Hornsent! They possibly go back-to-back with their religion but except they are extremist. We cannot tell whether general face of the religion, the Inquisitor hags, would do anything about it had they have more control, whether they tolerate it for convenience, or whether they encourage and utilise its existence. But what we CAN tell is that not only "impure races" are punished/killed, but even "unfaithful" Hornsent themselves!

Yes, definitely there are also Hornsent children who would have no choice regarding their upbringing, information, nor much agency over their actions, and we know they did not spare the children either from the story of Hornsent NPC that we follow! But even then, it is clear that Hornsent that were in disagreement about their culture's demands had to be quiet about it either, or else they'd likewise be persecuted!

"Why could not they just have started a revolution" is a very unfair criticism towards a culture/place oppressed by corrupt religious (and military?) institution on many levels! As someone from the country ruled by a tyrant feeding the civilians propaganda excusing genocide and promoting xenophobia, as well as very corrupt and oppressive religious institution that yet is hardly a HALFWAY as awful as some countries I could explain how hard (impossible) it is to reliably as much as gather enough people to rebel (with no results but legal troubles down to getting imprisoned). Let alone gather enough people to go an die for the cause. Especially when almost everyone with ANY power and weapons is already by the government's side completely rotten by propaganda. Feeling outnumbered, not having any resources because they're all in the hands of people who ARE corrupt, knowing even out of other people who disagree most would not risk leaving their children and sick relatives and alike in trouble rising up against the enemy they can't reliably take down is already a huge problem here. Even considering the (very idealistic) sentiment that dire consequences doesn't erase the blame that comes from not speaking up, it doesn't change that there are real and reasonable people who don't agree! Let alone the separate topic of how even people rotten by propaganda deserve a chance for rehabilitation! Propaganda is a horrifying tool and not having immunity to it should not be automatic death sentence!

Shadow Realm is already full of burn Hornsent spirits questioning what did they even do wrong and claiming they only wanted to live and didn't do anything, further proving that they might not even be much aware of what their Inquisitors and Potentates do, let alone not being a solid monolith race of those who agree with extermination of the "impure"! They are people, living in conditions of the culture held by the throat of those truly evil! It were a bunch of civilians burnt, as well as Hornsent's (NPC) wife and child who 99.99% didn't do anything. To think of it, it makes it very bitter that Bonny's Village and Inquisitors in the Tower clearly were able to recover and bounce back, when it were civilians who payed the price. Very grim yet clever remark about the real world as well, but I am sidetracking. In general, yes, a culture that considers itself holier than others with extremist forms of it deeming them unworthy of living should be stopped and criticised, but genocide can NEVER be the answer!

^^^ It fact, something already suggests there was a different answer, an even obvious one. Marika's "betrayal" suggests a long social game on her part, as well as the fact that Hornsent culture were trusting her! Maybe they knew she was a shaman and things were happening past the point where they stopped persecuting them, maybe they had no idea. Yet, in any case, Marika held enough social power to bridge the gap between the cultures, to let them evolve beyond their past, traditions and prejudice against 'outsider' cultures and instead learn from them!

^^^ In fact, the gap was bridged, since Crucible, THE Hornsent thing, WAS considered divine even as Golden Order was established! That was like… after getting Elden Ring instead of Dragons (whatever the reason was), war with the Fire Giants and murder of the Fell God and removal of Destined Death from the Elden Ring? Nonetheless, with the power to stop vicious cycle and to let the horrible practices and past be buried and dissolve in her new order of life and radiance, so-to-say "civilization", she chose the path of genocide and revenge that has not ended even to this day! As well as essentially became "the very thing she sworn to destroy" by keeping those like Omens and Albinaurics oppressed!

And to bring back the previous chapter of this post, it is not an invitation to say 'aww then it is fair that she hates Omens so much 🥺', but a pointer that what she did was wrong. And so, yet again, the cycle continues, take Vengeance-Seeking Hornsent that swears to kill not only her and her family, but everyone affiliated with her in any way even if they were innocent and simply were born under such order! He mirrors how she/Messmer did not simply stop at punishing those who WERE guilty, how violence and revenge will always only birth more of violence and revenge, until someone decides to stop it and chose to solve the situation the pacifist way to their best ability. Even when some people claim that within this option those who will want their power back can survive and ruin everything again: likewise, if culture is exterminated, victims will survive and come back with revenge. Either way suggests the risk, but only one of these ways has even a CHANCE of better future! What IS certain is that humanity could never be at better place unless we as species keep trying peace over and over, that won't banish all evil from the first try, but we must choose peace and not genocide over and over!

3) "Miquella's character was assassinated"

No, it wasn't.

OKAY FINE but it is one of the topics that are hard to approach seriously, when someone mistakes the arc of the character falling from grace to a complete rewrite of the character's personality! How falling from grace inherently suggests there was no grace to BEGIN with? Character assassination suggests Chloé Bourgeois from Ladybug that the character has been written a certain way, but then deliberate effort was done by the writers to damage their image and make the audience hate them or no longer care about them!

What we learned about Miquella from the base game was all information about him from the times long before we, player, arrived in the game, and before his departure in the Shadow Realm! He was kind, he cared about his sister to the point of creating a new school of magic and then creating Unalloyed Gold all to heal her, he wanted a gentler order than the Golden Order and created his own tree that welcomed everyone but first of all those oppressed by the Golden Order, he wished his brother Godwyn could die honourably instead of being a growing virus to all living past death. At the same time, he naturally needed military force to protect his Haligtree, as well as was able to bewitch people with his powers!

In Shadow of the Erdtree, nothing that followed erased that information! In fact, he still boldly stated that he wanted Age of Compassion! What we DID witness though were two things: 1) the fact that he had to get a bit machiavellian, something that already was obvious from the base game because kindness alone is not enough to survive in this world and you HAVE to do some planning as the leader up against the current order with its own fans, as well as people who hate the compassion as an idea and 2) that he has been leaving behind what made him the person that he was, including his feelings and attachments, which logically included caring for Malenia for example! So, the dearest sister is 'loyal blade', because he abandoned his love! He does not still love Radahn either, but Radahn was a part of the promise; a very pragmatic thing and memory that did not have to go as his feelings did. He simply was part of the initial plan to ascend to Godhood; Miquella sounded scared of the idea when he asked Radahn to be there for him, but abandoning his fears and doubts would not automatically erase the OATH. Effectively, a "contract".

Miquella was hyped up as that kind, almost perfect, noble person, for us to find out that he is not anymore. The 'anymore' part here is crucial! Fromsoft have previously did the trick with hyping a character up to be great but us finding out they were not with Vendrick and Gwyn (and very briefly with Artorias who didn't DO anything yet was hyped as THE hero when he was in fact defeated)! Miquella repeats the trend with reveal that he did charm Mohg back then (was not perfect in his actions, but I'll get to it later), but also has the story of further descent from that not-perfect-yet-GOOD person that we follow! He is effectively the most elaborate incarnation of the concept, and we know Elden Ring includes Fromsoft learning from their previous games a lot, polishing the concepts they want to use! Miyazaki confirmed that Elden Ring is "close" to the dark fantasy game of his dream, yet is still not it (someone stop this madman fhfdhs)!

To suggest that revealing him as complex, as well as adding the tragedy of repeating Marika's mistakes no matter how much he was running from this sad fate, equates the devs wanting us to hate him (that is what CA is) is ABSURD! He REALLY did not want to be Marika, he was AVOIDING it, yet no matter what, it caught up to him... How comes you equate tragedy and imperfection with suggesting that you should hate him according to the writers' intention? I will go further and say that if your expected reaction to finding out your fav was never perfect in the world where perfection doesn't survive, and had road to Hell paved with good intentions is 'oh devs made him hateable' it only speaks of your own lack of understanding and compassion. Miquella is as much of the victim of this wretched world as everyone else, where you die a hero, remain a lazy fence-sitter or try to do something but only drastic means to do it make a change. Really, this is just Fromsoft's world and Elden Ring is in no obligation to change their philosophy of existential horror!

4) "Fromsoft failed fans by not making it [insert a thing from a wishlist]"

It could be a bit subjective, but personally I think this is simply not how creativity works as a concept. This kind of criticism suggests that upon deciding on the DLC, developers were supposed to look at the fandom's discussions, determine what would be most emotionally satisfying for them, and go that route regardless of what their vision of the story was or what…? It feels like a very entitled kind of thinking for me. Creator's one task is to bring their own vision to life and tell the story and messages they want to deliver! Not to cater to the audience, not to tell them what they want to hear, not to do what sells well or, god forbid, fanservice. (and you can probably see in which paragraph I will need to touch this one too!)

Miyazaki has a rather grim vision of the world and humanity, that is not completely nihilist and devoid of hope, but never gives the coherent answer to what the better future IS either. Character Aldia from Dark Souls 2 (and vaguely in DS3) is probably the best personification of his philosophy. The world is wretched, but the means to change it are so terrible that one might question whether it is even all worth it and whether the new world built on sacrifices is truly better, toppling the corrupt power just replaces it with the other corrupt power unless you decide to straight up destroy the world, but there must be something, right? We just lack insight to understand what it IS, but how can we obtain that knowledge without losing our humanity? Happy ending or blunt message about how if you remove corrupt authority things will magically be good are not his style.

And… regarding smaller things, honestly? He had a right to throw in a random ship that didn't have any foreshadowing if he wanted! It is HIS story and HIS characters! Creator must not obstruct THEIR vision and preferences for anyone, but it is OUR choice whether to take it or leave it. Just because we gave Elden Ring that kind of popularity and influence with huge amount of support and bought copies of the game doesn't mean that now Miyazaki is under obligation to serve us and think about our reception and tastes as sort of "gratitude" or whatever… And on a relevant note, it is his choice which topics he wanted to explore in SoTE and which topics he was done with and decided to leave be.

Again I might be different, as the very moment we had a DLC confirmed I emotionally distanced from Elden Ring knowing that any headcanons and expectations could get jossed at this rate! Getting invested into series that is still in development suggests obvious risks! No one is obligated to ENJOY whatever choices he made, but what we should do is to remember that he had RIGHT to HIS choices.

5) *claiming all hinted that it obviously should have been Godwyn*

I've heard it often that base game all foreshadowed that Miquella was departing in the Shadow Realm to bring Godwyn back to life, Eclipse thing and all, therefore SoTE "betrayed" fans by not focusing on Godwyn. Everything was supposedly set up for him to be prominent or maybe to be a final boss instead, even if he'd be a through and through failed attempt of resurrecting him! But…

Even in the base game, it was suggested that 'Eclipse' was already attempted, and failed. Nothing to suggest that they would go and try again via different means. And, in fact, there is another piece of evidence that Miquella was not going to attempt another way of resurrecting Godwyn! 'Please die a true death' suggests that Miquella wanted Godwyn to not exist as Prince of Death, but to die fully; with his body too, not only his soul.

This is certainly not about resurrection, so it is safe to assume that Golden Epitaph was made as Miquella gave up the hope of returning Godwyn's soul to him! 'Eclipse' was attempted, and it failed! Moreover, 'Eclipse' is a thing associated with the Castle Sol / Mountaintops! Nothing to suggest that it is properly done in the Shadow Realm, it is very much Lands Between's thing to do. (could it be relevant that Fell God of the Fire Giants was killed, and even before Furnace Visage thing his fire was shaped like an orb, so like a sun? no sun to eclipse to begin with? now Erdtree is THE source of light? some fuel for interpretations)

This is not the only reason, as we have a more bold one, that is Fia's quest getting broken! One of the endings is Fia laying with Godwyn and bearing a Rune to bring Those who live in Death back in the Elden Ring, and one of the remembrance bosses is Fortissax fighting within his dream! If Miquella's goal was to go and try to resurrect Godwyn, that would already remove his body from that area by the very existence of the DLC! So, should have Fia's quest/ending and Fortissax battle been timed events only for pre-DLC era? Or, again, if you say that event would only happen if we followed the entire DLC story to the final battle: Fromsoft's DLCs typically do not have any significant effects on the base games, it is usually just some extra dialogues here and there. And what would be about Godwyn's "virus" growing in Stormveil, as well as on some enemies and deathroots in the ruins where Mariners resided? What is considered his body goes FAR beyond just Deeproot Depths, should they have programmed removing of ALL that to not contradict their own lore, then? It really doesn't feel like the case even from technical standpoint already!

From narrative standpoint, both Godwyn and Radahn should (have) stay(ed) dead for the story and emotional weight, however, elaborating Radahn didn't make his presence overbearing for Fromsoft's standards! On the contrary, he got more role besides kinda 'just being there' compared to other Demigods! Godwyn had a lot of impact and presence all over the story in the base game and one of the endings being tied to him! I will get to it in the paragraph about devs allegedly 'abandoning' some things that needed elaboration though!

Yet even then, devs still added Godwyn bits with Knights of Death getting sort of rebranding to still stand by him in death and the bit about Godwyn having custom-made medallions for his special knights! It is very clear that devs have not forgotten or forsaken Godwyn but instead keep reminding us how much he mattered for the idiots living in this fictional universe! However, they know where to stop so the character isn't devouring the story too much as they have their own style with balancing characters' presence! Saying that "only" adding Knights of Death going to protect what's left of their Lord like sort of fucked up plant culture in Shadow Realm is some sort of grave insult to his fans is just weird, because in fact devs were not supposed to add this EITHER!

6) "Scadutree fragments is a cheap way to force players to explore the map"

I don't think there is anything wrong about rewarding the players for exploring the open world map that is meant to be explored! And, yes, it is rewarding, not forcing! The bosses COULD be beat even without Scadutree fragments if you know what you are doing! Like, what surprises me the most is that this take typically comes from the gamers! You know, THE people who would know a thing or two about imbalanced builds or weapons, or have enough time and patience to memorise every single movement by the boss, let alone liking to challenge themselves!

Even then, Scadutree Fragments are supposed to be discovered naturally as you walk around, check niche places on the map, do platforming and search for optional enemies and bosses! If all you wanted from this DLC was to run very straightforward to just beat the boss already with ease so you check the remembrances faster, are you sure that you actually like PLAYING this game? Getting into an open world game when you don't want the 'open world' aspect seems counter-productive to me :/

Bonus mention: some people finding Abyssal Woods sequence frustrating and annoying! It is somewhat relevant to this complaint! Losing Torrent in this area perfectly adds to the sense of not being able to escape, and stealth game with Aging Untoucheable is straight up horror stuff! How are you supposed to experience getting into the forbidden area infested by the force that every living (and dead!) being in the setting fears, if you just can run straightforward to the boss willy-nilly without any buildup or obstacle! It feels like the same sort of complaint as Malenia being unfair boss when she should be hard as someone who "never knew defeat"! Fromsoft is very good at using gameplay elements to confirm what the lore says! This "criticism" just looks like straight up impatience to get your dopamine injection already instead of enjoying the process of learning this story like devs intended!

7) "Miquella has always been evil"

I suppose it goes as a sibling paragraph to 'Miquella's character was assassinated', except this time from the standpoint of those who either liked the "twist" or were indifferent to it… I think this is just a confirmation bias at play from the people who assumed this about the character from the start, often including but not limited to Berserk fanboys. I agree that the fact he has never been perfect was plain to see either, with Bewitching Branches being a sinister power as a concept and Haligtree Soldiers suicide-bombing being a bit too fanatical, but yet again: nothing erases the notion that he had good intentions!

Ansbach kind of reminds me of the same effect Kenneth once had; Kenneth described Godrick as pathetic and everyone agreed completely ignoring the bits that suggested otherwise, and now Ansbach described Miquella as a monster and this is what some people believe! Honestly, how do I develop this level of charisma to make people believe me uncritically fhfdhhfsd In any case, the "unreliable narrator" effect is very prominent in the game, and it is important to remember that developers make the character say what the character would, not give us the directions on what opinion to have!

Miquella's power is further elaborated upon in SoTE, as not inherently brainwashing one but a very strong remedy for someone's problems! Leda's fanatical murderous fixation, Hornsent's obsession with revenge, Moore's insecurities and Ansbach's fixation on avenging Mohg's "honor" (which is likewise a very questionable concept lol) all were muted, giving them peace and friendship instead of attacking each other OR himself! The key to them being pacified and happier being to fix their love on someone else doesn't make Miquella evil megalomaniac wanting an army of loyal dolls.. on the contrary, often caring for someone else IS the feeling that brings out the best in us humans!

Again, this one is subjective, and of course people can read the character any way they want! But I start to take an issue with this reading when people claim that it is canon and dig at the base game saying how he never cared for the compassion but just was sort of narcissist seeking the oppressed to make an army of admirers from or whatever… The DLC accentuates on how he has been abandoning the 'humane' parts of himself, that were making him vulnerable and as Demigod more human than God, so we meet him at his "lowest". Even then, he states his motivation to make a better world full of compassion and free of evil! He would make everyone hold hands in more peaceful ways if he could, but even from the base game his arc was basically trying and failing to heal his sister. Besides, Dane's last and only words are asking him to make a gentler world, without his spell in the effect-

Like, there are enough things that show he had enough reasons to make people see him as symbol of hope even without MAKING them to. With Radahn, we are repeatedly told that "he and Malenia helped him to cosplay Godfrey" stems from the oath they shared and Radahn agreed to! Whether you see Caelid battle as him wanting to die (to go to Shadow Realm) in a battle, or him rebelling against Miquella's world of shining flowers and kissing bunnies in the end as a warmonger but twins not having this "change" it still doesn't straight up speak of evil intent. Could be taken as despair and reaching that 'giving up' state! With Mohg we are not sure either. Maybe Miquella just wanted to "heal" his pain but his personality persisted and obsession/kidnapping happened, so he knew he was beyond help and TOO soaked in blood and sin! Or he was beyond help / didn't want help from the start, so EVENTUALLY (key word) amounted only to sacrifice in Miquella's eyes on his path to Godhood as he NEEDED one, maybe it was even seen as 'mercy'. Help is to build a better world as a honor and all.

He very likely wanted to make a better world for him too! Both their goals were connected to "love" after all! The reading of the character as evil is not as cut in stone and evident as some people make it look like!

(In fact, shortly after BASE game released, Miyazaki confirmed that Martin wrote some nice characters and Miyazaki wrote the ways to corrupt them. So, Martin wrote the kind guy, and Miyazaki put him through corruption arc. But I will get to it in due time -_-.....)

8) *views Messmer as just another (boring?) victim of Marika* (and variations)

This one I kind of saw in two forms: people who dislike the character or not care about him writing him down as "boring" for this one, and simps who kind of lift agency off the character in order to be able to like him! This is to put it roughly, as again, there are various variations but with the same sentiment at its core!

I do think that Marika having enough influence over his actions, and even having abused him emotionally in some way, is entirely palatable interpretation! The nature of Base Serpent, as well as supposed connection with the Fell God, is debatable and can vary from truly harmful thing to simply a force of nature that exists to ensure forces like Erdtree can't live forever. Regardless of interpretation, would a kind, loving mother truly allow for her child to hate himself so much?

Marika has….. a problem with fire. Waging war to put down the Flame of Ruin because it could burn the Erdtree and removing Destined Death that was fire-affiliated power already showed it; as 'Eternal', she of course wanted to live forever, same for her Erdtree! Messmer manifesting fire element would certainly be a problem for her, but was it though? Base Serpent is malicious but for this reason Winged Serpent exists, no? Can another side of universal balance be something that must be removed from the scheme of things? Can fire, or death, truly count as 'evil' things? Are not they simply forces of nature that Marika being the MILF Gwyn that she is did not desire personally, in her vision of a brighter, bountiful world?

My point is, even though she created many Divine Blessings to help him, she did likely inflict some sort of negative self-image on him anyways. Maybe it was not her intention, but she always feared him and eventually that brought her to hide him away!

So like, how does this NOT make Messmer just a victim? Okay, so here is the error that kind of started it all:

User drenched-in-sunlight explained it better in this ( x ) post, but the point is that taking up the Crusade that Marika wanted was Messmer's own initiative and not something she forced him to do like English localisation made it sound! So, she was still possessed with the wish for revenge, but Messmer was like 'hey no need to make your hands dirty, I can do it'! Like drenched-in-sunlight explained, Marika's 'wish' here is the same as in the description of her braid (same symbols), so Messmer sees what is hurting her, and ASKS to be the tool of her vengeance! I'd say that even without this bit, simply the fact that he is a grown ass man should give him agency and hold him up to proper judgement, but nuance is always important!

This does paint an interesting picture though: Marika has been trying to "heal" him (which is a debatable concept considering her character and what fire, save for Frenzied Flame, means in the setting, but I don't insist), he asked to deliver her vengeance FOR her, but also despite having sealed the Base Serpent within him she was still scared of him and sealed him away making everything connected with him heretical and warriors standing by him still shunned, and Messmer lived in hatred, begging her forgiveness before crashing her seal yet cursing her name upon his death! It looks to me as though she grew truly scared of him and decided she wanted him gone BECAUSE of seeing him in action during crusade! Him hating her for ditching him implies that was not something he expected, so maybe seeing him in Crusade made her go 'wow, my son is actually more scary than I thought'!

That speaks of Messmer as someone who can get carried away with cruelty in blind, fanatical devotion! (that also makes Queelign an interesting mirror into his youthful, more """innocent""" self but that's not the point fdhfhds) Marika might have been horrified by it, or horrified by her own ugly reflection in the monster she (unintentionally) created with her parenting, but nonetheless it describes Messmer's personality more. Someone whose reaction to his mother's trauma and yearning for vengeance was to not only take such terrible plan in his arms, but also to go too far with it, maybe even too far for HER. Not everyone would react the same way. A better person would've probably focus on helping his mother to heal and move on, or maybe even turn around and refuse to comply with such harmful intentions. But he, being a grown man who could think and choose, chose to commit genocide. He is evil! He is not JUST evil, either. He is NOT boring tool of Marika with no agency, though!

And on a relevant note, for the simps..

No but seriously fdhfhdfds I understand how that sentiment could have left a sour taste after SA Mohg truthers kept saying 'hey guys you aren't real fan of Mohg if you ignore what he did 🙄' (that certainly aged…….), but I still want to remind that a fictional character doesn't need to be stripped out of his agency to be found attractive! With Messmer what he is doing is a bit more direct, and it is NORMAL to simp for the characters you could not stand in real life! What is the fun of engaging in fictional worlds if you turn it into a morality contest and sort of a "practice" for what kind of endeavours and relationships you'd want in real life? It is for going wild and satisfying curiosity and dark impulses. No limits needed. This is just an advice if anyone needed one like this, because we just never know really.

9) *"corrects" people's interpretations (especially of Nanaya)*

Sigh...

This kind of behavior in the fandom is certainly not exclusive for the past-DLC era, but it really felt more relevant to address again and- yes, like I said, with Nanaya thing it is something I've witnessed the most! Not long ago I said that despite hearing people question why there are so many uncharitable takes on Nanaya I haven't really seen any? But yes, like usual, it happened because Tumblr bubble is often different and you need to catch updates from Reddit and Twitter to have full fandom picture! An example: not reposting the art of course, but here is a cute comic of Midra reuniting with Nanaya in spirit after death ( x ). And do you know why the artist had to add a caption to ask people to not correct their headcanons? …..because on Twitter, they got pestered with people "correcting" them that Nanaya was aKtUaly evil / Shabriri / etc. 🤡🤡🤡

Honestly, I approve of correcting people when they legitimately, objectively contradicted or missed something stated in canon! I disagree with the notion that canon is just a suggestion and the whole fun is to just use names and concepts from it to create one's own thing! I am one of the guys that wears the T-Shirt that says "Just make an OC then" because primarily fandoms are about studying and enjoying the source material! A good headcanon knowingly differs from canon, know rules to break them at the right places, all that. It is especially relevant in Fromsoft's games because the information in them is very scattered and obscured. You WILL miss something, and so communicating with the fans, double-checking wikis etc is crucial! Similarly with fanart: there is a difference between giving a character heterochromia and more interesting look to add flavor in design and drawing them incorrectly because you haven't SEEN their datamined face and need a pointer (looking at you, white Henryk Bloodborne fanarts all because not everyone checked datamined faces!)!

As I got this off my chest that I am not an absolutist with the 'let fans do what they want' because if someone doesn't need canon that much they can always make OCs or original settings…. …when something is not canon but simply a popular interpretation, don't "correct" people! Midra asks Nanaya to forgive him when he succumbs, and it is anyone's own choice whether they take it as her never having wanted him to succumb when she was still alive or her having been secretly lyinh and ensuring long endurance would made him explode into more "sufficient result"! Fromsoft's lore often leaves bits of information that can be used to justify any interpretation! And discussions, even debates, to prove why your version is better are very interesting! Fromsoft's lore community at its best feels like we are all academics defending our thesis before the audience! But the whole "well aktualy" + "there is no proof so your headcanon is bad" + "let me educate you media illiterate casual" + "but [popular loretuber] said this" attitude just isn't it.

The last example is important! This problem IS also often the result of latching onto what a popular loredigger says. Usually Vaatividya (video lore), charredthermos (wrote a popular Bloodborne interpretation document), Lokey's Lore (has whole website with his interpretation of Fromsoft games bits) and so. And I often see people hate these popular Youtubers too, but I think that the blame lays on the crowd! It is none of these guys' fault that the crowd decided to promote them to the fandom's idols and give them this sort of influence! They were not loredigging to gain this kind of power, they probably never expected the popularity, and they would sure be unhappy to know that their work is used to shun creativity and start fights in the community that they care about! Yes, even when they 'lokey' (haha geddit?) speak in the manner that suggests being close-minded to other interpretations, they are not forcing and CAN'T force fans to idolize them.

In the end, they were just doing what they loved, and popularity probably came from them being pioneers. But instead of spilling vitriol towards them and saying how they should be "dethroned" as if they damage the fandom, why not turn our anger towards THE people who idealize them? We are all angry when we are "corrected" and they use lore of someone popular as a "proof", but this is the fault of THE people who "correct". Discourage this behavior, encourage thinking like individuals and not like sheep. No one asked for the popularity or the power to stomp out any curiousity and creativity. Don't hate the big guy AND don't take the big guy's word as a gospel. In the end, we are all just guys looking for answers in the places where they were NOT given.

10) "Mohg beating allegations made the story worse"

Sibling paragraph to 'they've failed the fans by not making it a thing from my wishlist'. Themes of sexual abuse and incest ARE quite interesting and important, but not inherently THE most important, or more important than any other themes! The information about Miquella having put Mohg under spell opens up equally interesting things to talk about and look for! How did he end up like this? Was it an accident of him trying to "heal" Mohg and it no working, and then he decided to just use what he had when he followed his plan? Had he written Mohg down as only working as vessel sacrifice for that mad plan from the start? What was the backstory between Miquella and Mohg considering this? There are still interesting things to work with, regarding relationship of the two, but now with added spin of Miquella's fall from grace arc that starts with following the plan with Radahn. Because, I remind you, requirement for a vessel, so, someone powerful dying and being used, was part of it from the start! Since Radahn needed to die! It is dark, just in a different way, and divided between two characters instead of just clear stated victim and abuser without shades of grey or nuance!

I say 'divided between two characters' instead of 'they've switched' because Mohg didn't instantly become a GOOD person over this reveal! I praised him as a valid character to point out that not all victims of awful childhood and mistreatment are automatically good people, which is a good way to diversify the characters! Make things more realistic than black and white thinking. Similarly how Rykard or Dung Eater are evidence that not all people up against the oppressive system are automatically good people. That benefit of Mohg as a character didn't evaporate, he still serves that point well enough! Nothing in the DLC said that all the kidnapping of surgeons, corrupting people with the blood and bringing in sacrifices happened because of Miquella's charm. Ansbach, in fact, confirms that the blood cult madness existed before Miquella's charm! When we admit to him that we killed Mohg, he also states that such were understandable risks of seeking Lordship, implying that Mohgwyn Dynasty, so, attempt to insert himself into Golden Lineage through mad, violent means, was also already a plan before! To think of it, SA accusation is the one and only thing he beat x) Reminds me of this meme: ( x )

Again, the story allegedly becoming "worse" solely boils down to 'they've made it about a starter point in Miquella's descent from grace and not about sexual abuse' that is simply not true. It is still interesting and valid story, just in a different way! I would normally argue that as far as fandom life goes, it should have in fact improved things; whereas Mohg was never addressed and explored as a character beyond "mohglester" thing, now he should get proper respect and analysis by the fandom, right? …right? WRONG, now people do often simplify him in a different way and forget that he DID do all that other bad shit! 🤦🏻‍♂️

And I can imagine that complaint about this reveal is not limited to but INCLUDES fans being annoyed by how people simplify Mohg and make him a good guy now! But fandom's habit of selectively reducing characters to just one trait ("mohglester" before, "victim of brainwashing" now) is not the fault of writers. How exactly the fact that we, as a community, are too shallow and unprepared for complex story and characters Fromsoft offers to us, is the fault of Fromsoft? Creator should not simplify their writing or direct it a certain way just because of the notion that majority will lack attention span or insight to understand it! We are the ones who should do better! Mohg offered enough complexity in SA allegations era, he still offers enough complexity now, it is right there in the source material for those who seek and care!

11) "Why some people are still coping instead of admitting the writing is bad???"

Yeah very mature of me to single out this paragraph by making the headline sound like the speaker is having a fit, I know. 🙄 In my defence, this particular one also truly got on my nerves, but it lacks the same huge gravity as the topic of approving of Hornsent genocide did so it is just… it is certainly something right.

Certain kind of fans that I lovingly call 'Twins Cultists' (as opposing camp to 'Chadahn Simps') has been terrorizing the fandom with the attitude of singling out and shaming other fans for "wrong" interpretations, saying how they "disrespected story and characters" with the awful sin of not reading characters Malenia and Miquella deeply enough while at the same time reducing Godrick and Mohg to a bad punchline and insulting fans that read deep into THEM, trashing everyone outside of their echo chamber, putting characters/ships malicious ragebait takes in the TAGS and then playing victims of the "toxic community" and such and such. And you would expect this kind of behavior to get significantly humbled up and them to self-reflect on how they were treating fans when THEIR takes were disproven? And I am glad that some people DID!

Full respect to the guys who reconsidered the attitude of swinging their One True Reading at the heads of "heretical" fans like a bat now knowing Fromsoft always has some cards up their sleeves! Especially if they apologised to the fans they were rude to! But also enough people didn't and now not only hate differing fans harder, but also are furious that writers sorta took away their privilege to be mean to "media illiterate weirdos". I wish I had the patience to accept the fact that of course people are angry, because something so important for them was……. no, fuck that lol I don't.

Okay jokes aside, yes I am aware that it is not possible to care about something passionately without at least somewhat slipping into the territory of defending your understanding from "threats". All we can really do is to draw the line between getting too carried away by our passion and outright obnoxious toxicity in the fandom and TRY to not cross it. To CHOOSE to not cross it when we see it, and step back if we did cross it. I do, however, take an issue with people who refuse to try and even encourages the mentality of seeing fellow fans as "enemies" and gets proud knowing they angered someone or discouraged them to check the tag. In Fromsoft fandoms, it is almost exclusively Tumblr behavior, we are sure luckier than every other fandom in the internets, but I still want to get it off my chest. Like I said, this particular attitude developed a new form after SoTE released, attacking the fans who seek reasoning within the writing decisions they deemed badly written or fundamentally wrong.

And these instances are EXACTLY where I put "just caring passionately" as their motivation into question. Because if someone says it makes sense to say that Miquella and Malenia admired Radahn's kindness when they all were younger and thus he likely faced a negative character arc since then into becoming obsessed with war instead, and you get mad at them for "coping when calling a warmonger kind is dumb and makes no sense"…? Sorry, but who cares about characters MORE in this situation: the person offering proper thought about them given some new information, or the person who is mad that their one-dimensional vision got broken?

People finding creative, interesting and reasonable ways to incorporate new information into lore, in the ways that do not contradict the base game (!!!) is not "coping" or "seeing through pink glasses" or "refusing to admit their fav dev can do wrong" or whatever you choose to call it. It is simply using analysis and imagination, it is adapting and accepting. If you can't do it, you are welcomed to do rewrites of SoTE reveals and characters and ending, it is not illegal! But don't go and say that the writing is so awful and broken that everyone who accepts it "never actually loved Elden Ring" or other nonsense just because for YOU this writing didn't work! The one and only unforgivable thing the devs did starts and ends at the fact that Radahn thing was not foreshadowed, and yet even HERE his relevance is EASILY incorporated and developed into backstory if you are willing to put in effort! This retcon is such a nothing thing compared to what some other writers do glares at Ladybug retcons for comparison. Like, working with it is possible, and if you don't want to it doesn't mean others shouldn't.

And in fact, at first I saw a lot of enthusiasm regarding the rewrites, AUs, "fixes", dwelling on pre-existing lore ignoring SoTE and all that. I really did, and it was valid. But then what I saw, personally, was that flame dying down and amount of such posts shortening but out of those who left this brand of toxicity followed! My interpretation of this change is that when initial shock and frustration waned, more people started to notice SoTE was not bad.. and THAT made people who continued hating SoTE feel less validated, in a way. When people started to warm up to certain plot twists and decisions, to elaborate new information into their vision of the lore… people that still hated and disapproved of the thing lost the image of being "the saviors of the fandom from Miyazaki's garbage writing" and became simply people who do their own thing. And for people who are driven with negative impulses, 'just enjoying the things they like' is usually not enough. They need to be "right", they need to "contribute to the fandom", they need to be "better" and so on. It is a known thing about fandoms even aside of SoTE and Soulsborne fandoms altogether, and I feel like this situation is the return of it, personally.

Of course, this is all speculation and the dynamic I've observed. Maybe someone observed different processes entirely! I just think it is safe to assume as I've seen absurd level of toxicity even despite staying away from 'active' fandom (no 'cool kids' circles, no following popular creators, no open Discord servers, no checking tag or Reddittube etc)!

Still, "I'll fix awful creators' writing because I actually love and respect the characters unlike they" is already a very questionable sentiment, but to attack the fellow fans over this is beyond any patience and understanding! Eventually there is no "right" or "wrong" way to love the characters and story and to be passionate, even if we are naturally inclined to believe in our own vision the most! Perhaps you express your love by putting in a lot of effort to give the characters different writing entirely, to "save" them from decisions of creators you don't agree with. But it is an OPTION, not the One True Way, and… really, it is strange to be mad at people for being happy and satisfied with the story and finding a lot of valid things in it and call them blinded Fromsoft dickriders incapable of critical thinking or whatever! Bonus points when such sentiments come from EXACT same people who resent the Youtube bros that bash every other new TV series AND insult people who dared to enjoy such aaaaawful product or whatever… You guys really hate the type of YouTube "critics" who take personal insult in people who enjoyed a thing and even reasonably justified the parts that THEY declared disgrace to the series and disrespect to true fans? Yeah most reasonable people hate them. We all know at least one modern TV show whose fans got this sort of treatment. But don't you guys see how you've became exactly the same type of "critic" at this rate? Unacceptable behaviour, not justified by 'but it comes from place of passion'! I am passionate about Soulsborne as you could tell and I disapprove of it, no correlation!

12) "Fromsoft became woke" (and variations)

For startes, I have to wonder whether we've been playing the same games all along. Where was it when Gwyndolin was intersexual and affirmed himself as a trans man later? Seath is also blind and has what is a disability for his species? Where was it when Pharis/Evlana was a very GNC woman in Japanese original, but for you she looked a trans woman because English localisation made Pharis a he/him a removed Pharis' nametag from "female archer" in the woods? Where was it when our good friend intersexual trans man was literally killed by the church? Where was it when they had female doctors, church leaders and scholars in Victorian era? As well as strong female hunters like Maria or Gratia? Gratia and Rom are also confirmed intellectual disability rep via Japanese script? Or when both male OR female hunter could propose to Annalise? Or positive sex worker representation in Arianna being the only kind person to step in Oedon Chapel? Where was it in the BASE Elden Ring with Ranni being bisexual, Malenia representing severe physical and mental illness, Miquella being GNC at least and trans+neurodivergent-coded at most, Dolores being a return of GNC woman, Blind Swordsman, Niall being another prosthetic-using fighter and Marika/Radagon? Speaking of blindness there were also Maiden in Black, Firekeeper, Irina 1, Irina 2 and Hyetta? Where was it when through their whole games they never sexualized their female characters and the ONE exception in Gwynevere was not even on purpose? WHERE WAS IT WHEN TRANS COFFIN???

...okay, I can continue and I'd love to be reminded of more examples. But on the serious note, this complaint has two ways to go about it: 1) an understandable fatigue with writers and stories placing pseudofeminist agenda on bland unsympathetic female characters, retconning pre-established characters to pretend to care for diversity and generally hating the audience for merely being born cis/white/male and 2) people being upset at diversity in the cast to begin with and complaining about "forcing the politics in art". And in both cases, this just doesn't apply to Fromsoft.

In the first case, they simply aren't hating their "privileged demographics" audience through characters and narrative, and doesn't seem like they will. They write very compelling, nuanced and even sympathetic characters, as well as the stories that make you ask questions to yourself! They insist on messages against corruption of religious institutions and fascism, but even THEN they'll give sympathetic characters on that side (!), show that not all people who oppose them are good either (!!) and make damn sure to recognise at the start of it all were good intentions (!!!!!!). From this angle, you could argue they are not woke ENOUGH, actually, because of how merciful, open-minded and non-forceful their messages are! They deliver their points through characters who are actual people, rather than writing characters as bland plot devices that hate you!

In the second case... Yeah, as memey as the phrase is, but "they've always been woke". Just because Miyazaki loves motherly woman archetype and and Fromsoft games always had compelling married hetero couples doesn't mean they are your allies in "preserving traditional values"! Again, messages against religious corruption and preserving long-overdue order of things fearing change are plain. Elden Ring had a slight increase in diversity, but to think of it, Elden Ring is also a bigger game with bigger cast. I do want to point out though that the very concept of worrying that with more diverse characters somehow cis and white cast will no longer be a part of From's stories is strange. They'll never make it all about JUST one demographic because they cover nature of humanity in general, but if anything, adding way more angles than their staple Medieval Europe culture route gives them more power for TYPE of the messages they want to tell! Because their power is, and always been, showing the situation from different perspectives.

13) COMMERCIAL BREAK LOL

14) "Devs artificially increased difficulty instead of WORKING to make battles"

This is very unfair criticism already from the very concept! Players had two years to advance through the base game, and if you play consistently, it is enough time to become ridiculously overleleved! Overleveled to the point of not being able to enjoy playing SoTE at all, as all enemies would drop dead instantly! It was easy to sabotage the challenge and simply not let the devs give us the fun experience they intended. But, no! Devs cared to make things so that even if you are 300+ level and have godly build, you'll be down in two hits by the first Furnace Golem, let alone bosses! So, yes, you either need to run around and collect Scadutree Fragments, or seriously study your boss and come up with clever strategy! I am still proud of a really smart way to fight Rellana I invented x)

This complaint did have a period of initial shock when it was really blown out of proportion due to the comfort zone of being overpowered broken, but this opinion still lingers and I just find it strange! Why NOT make sure that players of any level physically can't be too strong to actually PLAY SoTE, instead of just running through it with ease? Even then, how comes they "didn't work on bosses"? Boss battles like Messmer, Bayle and Midra are absolutely wonderfully well done on every level! Romina, Rellana and Putrescent Knight are really great and have super interesting battles even if not as epic and show-stopping, aesthetic and moves alone are immaculate. Non-remembrance bosses who are also very fun and beautifully designed! There are annoying bits about Scadutree Avatar and Gaius, but you can't seriously say they did not WORK on them! The bosses are challenging not only due to artificial difficulty, because even at high Scadutree Fragments level you still need to give them thought! And while you do… right, you can admire the sound and the battle design!

I am just really confused about this complaint because it could only be applied to reusing Radahn for the final boss.. but even then he is not fully reused, and sure not so reused for Stage 2 where you can't see shit because of Miquella's spells. One "kinda mid" boss can't and should not eclipse all those awesome bosses! If anything, he feels more like a hard to get joke! Fans have been saying things like 'oh if only we could fight Vendrick at his prime', 'oh if only we could fight Gehrman at his prime' etc etc… now, as they ALSO did want to fight Radahn at his prime, they got an option to do so, and he is not all that impressive, right? :p Let's be real he only sucks because Leonard isn't here hgfhhhgb

15) *admiring how fanatical Leda is while hating other (male) characters with the same quirk*

Sigh... I will just leave this meme by the user wraith-caller here: ( x )

Yes, fandom does have decent amount of simps for this type of male character, I know. Lautrec, Alfred, and D twins. (Coincidentally, all women-killers x) Even if Devin is actually justified) I suppose Queelign would go here too if people didn't write him down as a joke character by proxy over a cursed cleric haircut? 🤔 skill issue btw So of course it is not to say that they are not given enough love/lust/other positive interest…..

…but for some STRANGE reason, people who feverishly admire Leda and simp for her or at least hail her as such compelling character that ALSO hate Alfred or D for being such horrid fanatics are almost a staple by now! Why!!! This problem existed to a smaller extent with people who hated Alfred while simping for Adella and even shipping her with her victim- and no, it is cool and based, one does NOT get into a media with dark themes to demand healthy characters and healthy ships, but why so many times gender defines it? I don't care if you are a lesbian; whether you give character a justice should NOT depend on whether you are attracted to them, or else you are no different from straight girls that would like a male character and hate female character with the same issues! And sure I don't care if you are a feminist and are inclined to give "pay back" for years of misogyny in the fandoms by applying double standards!!

16) "Why could not we have JUST ONE genuinely nice character?"

Alllllright so… apparently, I was wrong this whole time about SoTE. I was convinced that it had no impact on the base game beyond like, Leda greeting us in Mohgwyn Palace, but I suppose I was misinformed very much? Because turns out that this whole time I was not aware that SoTE removed existence of Roderika, Hewg, Boc, Melina & Torrent, Latenna, Albus, Thops, Jar Bairn, Millicent and Enia from the base game!

….fine, okay, sarcasm is not my forte at all, but what I said still stands from both subjective and objective standpoint. Subjectively, I don't think counting out minor characters does any good for enjoying and analyzing the story! Should anything only "really" count when it is a significant, major character? This reminded me of that time when someone said it was 'incredibly fucked up how Bloodborne only had 2 non-white characters' when in reality it has 13 but minor characters supposedly didn't matter much…?

I want to specify though how this bit is more about how I interact with fictional worlds; I take them as just fictional realms that I enjoy exploring and "living through", I do not put much emphasis on how much 'weight' characters representing certain demographic OR worldview in the story as someone able to love every other minor gremlin genuinely! Maybe it is autism, maybe it is the fact that I am naturally hesitant to interact with the 'big guys' anyways with real people too. I enjoy tending to flowers and I suppose for most people the point or representation they want to see should be visible from every angle, like Erdtree x) With major characters, I think Rennala and Godwyn are the closest we have to good people, yet they were not able to be 100% good conceptually due to their high status.. much like Miquella himself, which brings me to a more objective point!

Conceptually, it is already impossible to be fully good when you as much as hold a lot of power! Some people have to be neglected if not straight up stomped out, for your own safety or safety of others, and it won't be a good thing *regardless *of intentions! Some sacrifices have to be made because if you are nice to everyone while having a lot of power, bad people will try to use you! Some social games, if not straight up violence, have to be applied if you want to make a change in the world! The big, important person can't be perfectly kind, because in that case they will no longer be big and important! It is just cruel truth about how society works! And Miquella HAD to be big and important. He had huge plans for the world, and as much as keeping himself and what tribe he has built within the Haligtree safe implied some morally questionable acts, let alone making his path through the position where he can change anything!

Pacifist character with unyielding principles who has a say in the fate of the world can often be portrayed from a very unpleasant angle, like, 'hug and forgive war criminals with unreal body count :3' angle (Steven Universe comes to mind first of all). Like, such decision make you wonder how this is being a GOOD guy here! But at the same time, is taking down those war criminals truly good either? When the character combines being the force of good AND being the force able to effect fate of the world, they inevitably are faced with the dilemma of either getting their hands dirty, thus sullying their grace at the very least, or making a decision that would feel like betrayal for the victims… which, again, sullies that grace but in another way. Miquella was already conceptually doomed to act Machiavellian by the virtue of being an Empyrean who wished change, much like Ranni except more subtly so!

And this is why true goodness could only come through the little guys. They don't have to make morally questionable decisions with no outcome that spares their innocence; their field of influence is to just care about their closest surrounding and to do their little tasks! They can't change the world, but they can change just the lives of their friends and their own.

Malenia, one of the key figures in the story, was faced with the choice to either "abandon her dignity" and nuke the continent to deliver Miquella's plan in full (the route she did end up doing), OR to preserve that "dignity" but thus hinder their plan that I remind you was against the Golden Order, to build a better world (which is also sort of morally questionable decision in the grand scheme of things)! She could not win and with all information we were given, more suffering in the setting would ensue no matter what! Do a drastic sacrifice for the greater good, or forsaken that greater good to preserve more lives but doom them to live in the same bad conditions forever was her picture! Yet Millicent, effectively a 'little guy' version of Malenia, had the privilege to die with her integrity intact without any big consequences for the world and great scheme of things! True good, certainly, can only exist in the smaller scale.

When it reaches the higher plane and higher decisions there is no way to remain 'unalloyed'. So, yes, we could NOT have 'just one genuinely nice character' out of people with huge power and importance. Not because Miyazaki allegedly hates hope and hates you! But because he is a writer that seems to understand such fundamental things and philosophical dilemmas from the track record of his games so far. ANY mature, insightful writer knows that the idea of someone 'important' forever being good might be a thing the audience wants, but not a genuine thing. "No matter how tender or exquisite a lie will remain a lie" and all.

17) *hating Radahn's inclusion because "dudebros got validated" and not over the story*

To be honest, this IS something I am also familiar with. I won't play the "unlike you snowflakes I don't care about online discourse uwu" persona because I SURE do! I used to dread Mariadeline ship because fans of it were easily the most toxic and unbearable type of Bloodborne fans, choosing to remain willfully ignorant about Gehrman's character actual lore, showing near-biphobia regarding Maria, having era of acting personally attacked when their ship was implied to be anything BUT cottagecore fluff dynamics without corners, playing victims of hate and "misogyny" when they themselves maliciously rage-baited fans that were just enjoying themselves, and doing that ableist 'no reading all this get a life' thing when shown where they were wrong! I had a period of really disliking Leda because she was an in-universe manifestation of aforementioned 'Twin Cultists' who act very similarly to common Mariadeline fans with spreading the "us CORRECT fans with MEDIA LITERACY who RESPECT story and characters vs them WEIRDOS" toxic mentality, with the whole joys of echo-chamber stuff, playing victims when they knew they were PROVOKING anger and feeling attacked when anyone dared to as much as to look at their favs as anything but perfect. I dealt with both and enjoy the ship now, and like Leda now. These are just two recent examples, but I faced a similar problem often, in previous fandoms as well. And I will be real here:

What helped me every time was to distance from the 'vocal' fandom, gather around a few friends to private chats and bounce around the ideas on our own. Without any outside influence, without deliberately skewing interpretation to "spite" anyone, without any motivation in it besides trying to look at things with clear gaze. The cure against the sour taste that bad fandom experiences have left is not to have the writers to "validate" you or to "spite" your opponents or whatever. The cure is ALSO not to completely abandon the ship/character/concept/etc giving up on it as if it was rotten and "not worth the stress". The cure is to hide away from this negative influence for a time being and build your own vision, that might have only like 3 other fans but be immune to everything! Us very few people here who like Mariadeline the different way keep FAR distance from its more 'common' fans, and we are pretty glad that we grew a Halightree in the contrary to their Erdtree x)

I do not really see why could not the same be done with Radahn as a character. In fact, it feels like there is an unspoken DEMAND for it. For 'reclaiming' him, even! My friend heraldofcrow made a post ( x ) about why Radahn is not 'Chadahn' at all but actually a sad character in his own right and just LOOK at the notes! Clearly, he does not have to remain a "mascot" of those dudebros and remain associated with the dumbest discourse you ever had to read!

I think the fandom really has lost the objective when prior the DLC you guys started to hope for certain outcomes based on the fandom experiences! People hoping for Miquella to be kind to make 'annoying Berserk fanboys' shut up, people hoping for Miquella to turn out evil to be vindicated after his annoying fans were toxic over "wrong" interpretations of him, people hoping for Mohg to be confirmed bewitched so everyone who called them media illiterate could eat their words, people hoping for the answer to Caelid battle to invalidate Malenia haters from Reddittube…… Like, how comes that we have forgotten that the first priority is to hear what the writer has to say and try to accept it as fans, or at least to have objective, reasonable wishes for the story rooted in our knowledge about writing and NOT in fandom discourse? It should not be a matter what group of fans gets validated or screwed over, it should be a matter of what it does to characters! It should not be important that now Malenia haters will NEVER shut up, but it SHOULD be important that we now have a better context for her moral failing and can work with it. She is not THEIR to trash on, she is YOURS to cherish as the girlfailure now with extra information!

There is a Russian saying: "Мышки кололись, плакали, но продолжали есть кактусы" (literally "(the) mice prickled themselves, cried, yet kept on eating the cacti"). It is a figure of speech describing someone who keeps stubbornly doing something that only brings them suffering without a reasonable purpose to it. This is exactly what those dudebros have been doing thinking about Malenia within the context of their fav and what they have been doing complaining about how hard it was fighting her when no one forced them to. But this is ALSO exactly what Malenia fans have been doing engaging in bad faith "debates" started by those guys and checking Reddittube knowing full well no good takes exist there!

If what you wish from it is effected not by your knowledge and tastes, but by your bias stemming from fandom experiences… really, distance from the fandom and heal. Characters are their own entities, not your tools to own other people in the fandom. It goes to both Reddittube AND Twitbr, to both people who started it and people who merely developed negativity as reaction. Fans are NOT part of the story and should never be, we are all just people observing it and reacting to it.

18) "They clearly gave Radahn spotlight because he was popular in (western) fanbase"

It is absurd to assume that Fromsoft would turn the planned story around because a lot of people on Reddit and their YouTube lore influencers declared 'Chadahn' their king. In fact, judging by the merch they're offering, Malenia is recognized as equally marketable if not MORE marketable! Besides, had they cared about Western fanbase's reception specifically (which IS where Radahn is loved), they would have likely avoided the potential backlash by that type of fans regarding making their fav LGBT+! With half-brother, no less. I've also heard a theory that they included Radahn as the very last moment solution, but I doubt that baking in Freyja into the story with her and Ansbach's questline, as well as creating Gaius, could've been something done in the last moment! I am not a game developer so correct me if anything, but it looks like a lot of work to do. Besides, there is not enough cut content in SoTE to suggest the plans were far different! And we all know that cut content always still lingers in the game's files with Fromsoft!

They can care about marketing- heck, using Vargram, an existing character with his own lore, to portray the "Tarnished" in promo materials because his set is more catchy than Knight/Tutorial set, for example! Or how replacing an option to murder Orphan of Kos as an infant with 'shadowy presence' because it felt too grim didn't undo the option to kill Arianna's infant and other celestial children, nor it undid how horrifying Fishing Hamlet was. They also obscured the fact that Annalise's baby got aborted, but not the fact that Queen Yharnam's baby was stolen while she has a bleeding wound where a big belly used to be. These are examples of making posters more eye-catching and dodging potential scandals about promoting abortion respectively, but nothing about nuking the plans for the story!

You know what sells even better than Radahn? Big boobs! Yet over and over they make their female characters have smaller chests, even Marika, and the ONE exception Miyazaki ever made, Gwynevere, was done because the guy who drew her concept was too happy! Heck, assuming that Miyazaki included Radahn because his coworker wrote a Miquella x Radahn fanfic he liked is more realistic assumption than him wanting to "sell better" jggfggfhgn In any case, my point is, they follow the vision they like and don't sacrifice integrity of the story!

(+On the relevant note, back then there was a scandal with press calling them "homophobic" for Mohg supposedly perpetuating a negative stereotype with incest/pedophilia accusation….. but while they debunked that impression, they've added consort thing with Radahn that falls for the exact same issues potential lol!!!! You know the only reason "Radahn is a groomer" takes don't exist is because people who care about Radahn aren't the discourse-starters of the fandom. They didn't escape certain side-eyeing even when they COULD and it is funny)

There is another thing I want to address though!

The screenshot is from this reveal trailer, and the excerpt is from Miyazaki's interview ( x ). I assume that this COULD be used as a reasoning behind thinking adding Radahn and final Miquella cutscene in the "last moment"; like 'you see, there was an ending where he 'reveals' (?) the Scadutree, but they cut it, and offered that unfinished clip of Miquella asking Radahn to come with him!' ..okay, sure, but you know what else was in that interview?

The confirmation that there would not be an extra ending for Elden Ring, of influence on the main game! Right off the bat, right after this trailer! Miquella "unveiling" the Shadow Realm or anything like that would have had consequences on the main game, certainly! They might have animated this prior because they wanted to add a new ending but then decided to not touch the main game under any circumstances but kept it for the cool trailer, or they animated it for the trailer from the start (like if Miquella is unveiling a new location for us, metanarratively)!

19) *refuses to use information and lore from the base game while looking at the DLC*

Yet AGAIN, "Free my man Mohg from SA allegations (he did do all that other shit though)". XD True, when it is not that people reduce (?) him to just a victim upon learning Miquella's Bewitching lore for the sentiment alone… it is then because they sort of forget. :clown: Ansbach's entire existence and what information we receive from him confirms that Mohg's scary bloody cult existed before Miquella's spell! It is up to anyone to interpret whether 'love' theme about his cult also existed before what Miquella did, or was, in fact, a side-effect, but kidnappings and sacrifices definitely were not caused by Miquella!

Another example off the top of my head is Maliketh and even Hoarax Loux / Godfrey basically evaporating from Marika's backstory, as though nothing ever existed besides her time at the Shaman village, Messmer and Fell God. And the latter one makes it especially odd, because base game hammered it down in every other Fire of the Giants' incantation that the motivation to put that fire down was because it was capable of burning the Erdtree and existed as anathema to it altogether, but now it got basically forgotten, as if all that ever existed about it was Messmer's presumed connection to it! I even got """corrected""" once when I stated that war with the Fire Giants happened to establish and protect the Erdtree, with something along the lines of 'we don't actually know what the motivation was but very likely to help with the curse that he caused on Messmer'! Also seeing the turning point of Marika's story in her becoming a God through Divine Gate, when in reality it was first her being chosen as an Empyrean by the Two Fingers! So, first someone now qualified to create the new order, and then actually creating it by entering the Divine Gate!

There were also Miquella things such as saying that he abandoned Malenia when she described his absence as "he will keep his promise", or saying that him forgetting Godwyn was a weird decision when the base game already suggested he failed and gave up with failed Eclipse and Golden Epitaph with words 'please die a true death'! To be honest, with Malenia one I myself fell for it at first, but… yeah, base game suggested he was going to return to her after/if his plan succeeded. Romina "creating" Scarlet Rot I also found to be often disconnected from (Outer) God of Rot existing 🤔

I suppose this could be justified because many people finished Elden Ring significant time prior the DLC, so many lore details got blurred and only general impressions of specific fixations stayed! It is just how memory works, and revisiting the source material from time to time is necessary! Even then, SoTE is so full of new information that it is easy to just completely fixate on it! I just think that it is important to remember that SoTE is still not just a whole game despite its absurd side and saturation with the new things, and things in it add into the base game! Not always like missing puzzle pieces but sometimes in a way that makes the puzzle itself bigger, but still. Gaius existing didn't replace Alabaster Lord that was Radahn's Gravity Magic teacher and Ogha, but he was also a "classmate"! Radahn being stated as an important sibling for Miquella and Malenia didn't replace Godwyn, but rather is added as someone also important! Hell, maybe he even became so close with them after Godwyn's assassination, but I'll get to the "it doesn't contradict stuff" in the meantime! Dryleafs and Needle Knights aren't supposed to make anyone forget about Loretta and the plan to find "proper" Haligtree Knights but never finding a master for such sword! They are just people who put faith into him after Erdtree started to die and his police force respectively! (Also no if I saw that Needle Knights are police then so have to you all, fuck you)

20) "How could they abandon [insert a thing that had enough place in the base game]?"

This kind of happens frequently, and usually it is about Godwyn! Sibling paragraph to 'it obviously should have been Godwyn' I suppose! Godwyn is not the first character who is very significant for the story yet everything happened behind the scenes, through descriptions and dialogues of other characters. In fact, meeting him in "person" is already a luxury by Fromsoft's standards! He had enough of spotlight already with his death triggering the VERY events of the plot with Shattering, one of Miquella's failed plans being about 'Eclipse' to bring him back, being grieved for by other characters, making peace with Ancient Dragons and thus a whole type of incantations in the game being linked to him, haunting the environment via Deathblight and being core figure in the questlines of Ranni, Fia and Rogier who are pretty significant characters all! He had enough development and presence in the narrative, I'd say to the point where bringing him into SoTE would overload the story with his presence! Not making him a core figure in the DLC and limiting new information about him to his most significant Knights rebranding into Knights of Death to protect the places where Prince of Death "grows", again, not some grave insult to his fans because what was there to tell about him happened in the base game!

With Fromsoft characters, THE tragic culmination of their story often happens behind the scenes and we are intended to meet the character at their lowest point, or just dead! With Godwyn, that culmination did happen behind the scenes, with such beloved, important, enigmatic figure getting assassinated and sending Marika over the edge, and we have a second emotional culmination for the character that we get to experience where we DO meet him at his lowest - an abomination on all living and mockery of former self, knowing Miquella did not get the wish to either return his soul OR let him die a true death! He did not have enough screen time, but he had enough presence in the story and feelings!

A similar complaint could be made regarding 'Well, Miyazaki said that Miquella would be a focus of the DLC, but we only meet Miquella in the end and he just sits on Radahn's back instead of at least fighting us himself'! (no not me making up a guy, it was an actual claim towards Miyazaki allegedly "lying") First, you people take it BACK about a very clever Dark Souls 3 reference and Miquella's spells not letting me see shit. Second, like I said, his presence is all over the narrative! All core NPCs talk about him, we follow his traces and find flowers growing from his blood, we learn more about him and his past, Radahn's story is now connected to his and Mohg's story with him given some insight, Trina is inseparable part of him, Dryleafs and Needle Knights are HIS covenants, we see effects with and without his spell… How is all this NOT 'being focused on the character'? Fromsoft's style of giving character time and space is not specifically to show them on screen or let us battle them or have dialogue with them!

Personally, I also at first wrongly assumed that they forsaken Miquella and Malenia's connection for the sake of Radahn, but this is, again, the case of one not excluding another! His connection had enough weight in the base game: he started Fundamentalism with Radagon primarily as a sort of magic to heal Malenia and abandoned it when it was not working, she always identified as 'Blade of Miquella' and it is the only thing she holds onto as she is falling apart, her clothes, prosthetics and armor pieces are made of his Unalloyed Gold and it even digs into her very body, all which he created for her, Ephael is full of statues depicting their younger selves holding each other, she was the one to have his needle (different from the gold needle) and she awaited him to keep his promise since he was "the most fearsome Empyrean"!

(Cut Rico's dialogue in the base game's files ( x ) ( x )) The original intention seemed to give Trina less of a 'personality', making her more inseparable entity from Miquella or even straight up just his disguise like with cut Merchants' questline, so the plan to ascend Miquella to Godhood was already in the plans! They have changed the dream realm thing since, recontextualizing Miquella going to sleep to ascend into presumed dream realm into Godhood with dream Trina persona to Miquella departing into the realm where rather all dead drift to, but the POINT of him leaving for that mad plan rather than mysteriously vanishing and Malenia not knowing why was there from the start! Writers didn't just "randomly made him abandon her" - he ALREADY did so in the very early draft of the story!

In the interview ( x ) about SoTE, Miyazaki also confirmed how many things that were planned from the start were cut from the base game's story because it was getting too big:

Miquella also abandoned not just her but everything, and Radahn logically got special treatment because he was part of the plan from the start! Miquella, who left every feeling that made him the person that he was, did not need to love Radahn or care for him to remember that a God requires 'consort' (in this setting's lore). It is not outlandish to assume that he wanted Radahn to share that fate (a fate so bad that Trina begged us to rather kill him that allow it, mind you!) and not Malenia because she already suffered enough for him in his eyes, for example. She depended on him for everything, so why not ask the other tough guy rather than a person that never knew independency and true agency outside of his influence?

My hot take is that not asking her to hold his hand through horrifying ordeal further proved him caring about her with all the context! He maybe ideally would not have asked Radahn either but if you need the Second Guy as a God, who will you rather ask: a person that already never knew life besides self-identifying as your tool or a kind tough guy who was the second most reliable figure for you BOTH after Godwyn? And would Godwyn be interested in the idea to abolish the Golden Order anyway? Radahn presumably changed his mind later in life, but Godwyn was THE Golden Order guy since the start! But my interpretation is not so relevant, it is subjective and again saying 'there is no glaring problem that people think there is, it comes down to interpretation'. There was still nothing else to add about how Malenia and Miquella were connected in SoTE, it was already all said in the base game!

I might be talking from the standpoint of someone who very much used to the way Fromsoft reveals information; they are very minimalist and precise, they give as much of it as needed to understand the gist, and bringing up something not in one description of an easily missed item but several times across unskippable lore is generous for them! They said enough in the base game for everyone to get the point and decided to not milk the same thing in SoTE, nor they erased or contradicted the information from the base game!

Wanting more information for the sake of it is valid and natural for fans, but Fromsoft doesn't give it just for the sake of it! They didn't abandon these topics, they simply finished talking about them! Even so, Godwyn got now got confirmed to have his version of Cleanrots/Redmines, and Romina offered a fantastic narrative parallel with Malenia as someone unable to bring Scarlet Rot to blooming from the buds state yet cherishing it, when Malenia wanted nothing more but to get rid of Scarlet Rot yet it kept getting through no matter what! They added some extras without exhausting the point itself!

21) "Sote was a mistake" (and variations)

YOU take that BACK about Thiollier and Ansbach. You take that back about Leda and her potential of interacting with Loretta, about Freyja, about insight on how Tanith looked like before marrying Rykard, about Moongrum having a twin sister- heck, about RENNALA having a super cool badass sister! You take that back about Midra and Nanaya and the whole cool Abyssal Woods location, about cool Midra's Manse lore and the best fucking boss battle and soundtrack ever. You take that back about Messmer and the Fire Knights. You take that back about cool battle mechanics additions with many two-handed arms, hand/legs combat mechanics and throwing weapons mechanics. You take that back about Romina and super cool insight on Scarlet Rot. You take that back about Ymir and super messed up cool cosmic eldrich stuff with cosmic fingers and Metyr being a return of Ebrietas archetype no one could expect. You take that back about how everyone finally pays more attention to the Fell God and worldbuilding in general. You take that back about immaculate aesthetic and captivating lore of Hornsent. You take that back about meeting Trina. You take that back about how significant and important topics they managed to raise- no, honestly, how cool is that that they got us to discuss the topics of fascism and genocide, as well as cycle of revenge and dilemma of limiting free will vs accepting cruelty of the world so hard that we FORGET to simp for [choose Messmer or Rellana or both depends on you] during such passionate debates? You take that back about coolest fucking sets ever and ability to become a dragon. You take that back about Igon, Florissax, finally getting an explanation about why Dragon Communion was a thing if Golden Order made a pact with Ancient Dragons and BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYLEEEEEEEEEE! You take that back about Gaius- actually no screw that man, remove his battle lol

…sorry had to add that punchline.

My point still stands: you cannot objectively say that SoTE was a mistake. Subjectively, you can; if you were a fan that solely cared about Miquella only through a certain lense and nothing else, then sure, SoTE fucked your headcanons over and all the cool stuff won't make you shift your hyperfixation. For you, it would have been better if SoTE never existed, you would've been better off in previous state of things, endlessly debating Radahn's fans and bullying people with charitable Mohg interpretations and whatever. But people like this do NOT represent the fandom as a whole at all! Not even in relevance to the gaming-only part of it, I am talking about artists-writers part of it as well! Objectively, SoTE contributed a lot of interesting lore and characters without breaking pre-established lore; as I stated earlier, importance of Godwyn and Malenia did NOT get erased just because Radahn had a retcon to also be important person! SoTE answered some questions that required answers, like origins of the Formless Mother, Dragon Communion, Trina's nature, what happened with Mohg, what was the reason for Caelid and what were these darn weird crawling hands enemies!

No I am not rofling, I was seriously very confused about them and made at least three attempts to solve the mystery of their nature, but SoTE finally freed me from that torment!!

Adding more characters absolutely was not a mistake! None of these characters broke pre-established things, they are merely more 'dolls' to play with! Answering some questions was also not a mistake; whereas people might not like what the answers ARE, tying some loose ends of the story was a good call! It is not as if they've written elaborate document explaining every single bit of lore to the point no one can make interpretations or create new stories anymore! All they did was putting an end to some arguments, however new questions arose in their place; questions more interesting than who is "misogynist" and who is "media illiterate".

From the gameplay standpoint alone, I do not understand this claim either. How exactly SoTE would ruin base game, which is intact and still accessible map without changes? Shadow Realm's map exists separately from the base game, none of it breaks the main game's locations and bosses! I doubt that new mechanics and weapons from the SoTE completely ruin the main game and make it imbalanced either! For most of them, having a strong weapon doesn't automatically make you skilled and even base game's bosses could still kick your ass. And as for "imbalanced" ones, gamer bros of the fandom have been doing great so far self-regulating themselves to shame people who used Mimic Tear, Comet Azur, Blasphemous Blade etc 🙄 Their field of creating artificial "honor"-based difficulty and challenging themselves would not suffer because of the weapons from SoTE! They are able to make the challenges and PvPs what they want within themselves, encourage or prohibit anything. It is not as if Miyazaki is holding them at the gunpoint telling them to use mechanics introduced in SoTE that they believe "ruin" the playing process! Simply not use new weapons or not go in the Shadow Realm altogether if you don't want to - and Elden Ring will remain what it used to be for you!

I guess I can only agree with the notion that aside of SOME story loose ends, base Elden Ring was not lacking in anything. It was a very huge game, with many characters, many locations, many worldbuilding things to touch upon and discuss, many mechanics, very contained and packed with things for years ahead to dissect, discuss and create art and writing and videos for! SoTE just made it even bigger! We were mostly living fine without these characters and new information, save for the frustrating arguments I've mentioned!

Mohg fans against SA interpretations could disagree entirely because as SoTE aired they all said "the night, and the hunt, were long…" But, like I said before, fandom experiences should not define what we want from the story! Some questions remaining unanswered was bearable from the STORY standpoint, but it is objectively NICE that they did get answers! And… just adding more characters is definitely not a problem. Not characters that break the story, just MORE characters. There is a Russian saying, "Кашу маслом не испортишь" ("you can't ruin the porrige by adding more butter in it"), and it applies here very much. Unless some people, for example, hate Messmer and are frustrated that they have to remember about him when writing Marika's backstory or anything.. I would not get it either way because giving a character a couple of sentences of acknowledgement and tossing them away feels like the easiest thing to do in my eyes. Fandom is always doing it, they have always been doing it, so why NOW this is something so hard to do?

22) *blames Martin for all the parts of the story they hate*

As funny as the joke about Martin being responsible for the "incest ship" is, considering his track record, Miyazaki actually confirmed in the interview right after the first SoTE trailer that Martin did not have anything new to add to the DLC story! But then, just because he didn't turn in to add new lore for SoTE specifically, how could we tell that he didn't write these "plot twists" previously? For this, we need to dial back to when his contributions to the Elden Ring were discussed after base game's release!

(Start watching from 6:00 to 7:25)

“Elden Ring was going to take place in, let’s say the present of their game universe. But what they wanted me to write was what happened like 5,000 years before that,” he said. “So I went back and wrote a history of what happened 5,000 years before the current game, and who all the characters were and who was killing each other and what powers they had. They had these runes that were at the center of the game, and the rune got split into many pieces, and that’s what screwed up the world. I laid all that out.”

So, he wrote the base premise for the backstory - what happened and existed before the Shattering, and up until that point! So, how characters got corrupted, how their plans changed and what happened to them later etc was up to Miyazaki to create! Take the concept of the character - who, what power, what status - and put them through the arc and development! Not Martin wrote the events that unraveled after the Shattering AND unravel as we play the game! Miyazaki himself also confirms this, according to this ( x ) interview:

“So it was more up to us to interpret this and say, ‘how did they become such inhuman monsters? And how did the mad taint of the shattered shards of the Elden Ring and its power affect them?’ So that was our job to take these grand heroes and sort of misshape them and distort them into something they were not.”

"…if we get a chance to show Martin and if he gets a chance to see the game and see these characters, I think he might be a bit shocked. When he wrote them, he was really envisioning something a little bit more human, a little bit more traditional human drama and fantasy characters. So I hope he gets a kick out of that.”

I recommend reading the whole page, but this is the gist of it! So, not only what events we are following are Miyazaki's work, but also their fall from grace, their sins, their mistakes and everything you might hate ('you' mostly as in, people upset that Miquella was not as perfect and pure as you wanted) is ALLLLLL on him! YOU leave Martin OUT of this! we also all know he only writes hetero incest fsdhfdghsfdg

23) "SoTE contradicted the base game's lore [example that doesn't contradict it]"

This one is less focused than it may seem, because it is not just about Godwyn and Malenia! In fact, it is rarer about them as complaints about them mostly do the "they got abandoned" route that I've already ranted a lot about! god it feels so good to finally rant lol I've seen some instances of people JUST throwing the 'ohh my GoD this new info is SOOOOO contradictory to [thing]' and refusing to elaborate, pouting and playing victims of blinded fanboys when questioned, which is in itself very infuriating! Regardless of how you are frustrated with SoTE, how it screwed your expectations and preferences personally, you are a garbage critic if you just waste your emotions without any real argument to your point, there is no way to put it lightly! That being said, for this particular reason, it would be easier to address concrete examples that HAD some explaining behind them from the critical people! But, it NEEDED to be said!

Personally, I've stumbled into a couple of things, in which I managed to add my say! The first was a claim that the whole story of the base game was not supposed to happen because if Marika got driven by the impulse of revenge and despair, she was supposed to succumb to Frenzied Flame but she didn't! And this is NOT some groundbreaking discovery about how the story is allegedly fundamentally broken, but simply a huge overlooking of pre-existing information, if not confirmation bias! Frenzied Flame and Three Fingers are very interesting topic in general, that I've covered in a couple of lore posts already, but for the subject: whereas the sickness of Frenzied Flame, aka the 'become too sad and you will start to burn' illness, is the case in the Lands Between and started because of Shabriri's crime, the story of Marika and Midra's Manse logically happened before Shabriri! Abyssal Woods and Midra's Manse have the eyeballs that are evidence of being directly grasped by the Three Fingers as the only eyeball items, whereas the Lands Between has Shabriri Grapes as eyes scorched from within but being grasped by Three Fingers became not a staple but an exception (Vyke)! Marika was contacted by the Two Fingers, not Three Fingers, to have the power that she does. Even then, is not it logical to assume that even after Shabriri caused his curse on the Lands Between, a God would be immune, especially if the "counterpart" of the Three Fingers is their guide? Not to mention how Messmer did take a lot of burden off her by doing her wish for revenge by himself-

Alright, you got the point. It is very easy to logically conclude why there is no glaring contradiction at all, and you don't even need to dig deep into lore to find out why! This is the brightest case from my memory that is best described as 'if you WANT to believe that Fromsoft completely broke the story, you WILL find a backup claim for it'! But unfair criticism that doesn't address the possible counter-evidence is not the way to analyze! When you want to make a claim, you need to scan the overall volume of information for possible objections to your claim and deal with them! Explain why they do not work, or why they are not truly saying anything! Sometimes, as you deal with the potential counter-evidence, you find that there are things you cannot reliably argue against and it might make your initial claim appear less solid or lose validity altogether! And this is fine! As big as the temptation to "prove" something is, the true purpose of having a claim should be to make sure that it is valid all things considered!

Just because you are already too upset with the story and the writers to give it proper effort and analysis doesn't mean you can just toss a bold, easily debunked statement and expect to not have any objection! This is not in particular to the 'Frenzied Flame makes Marika's backstory impossible' person at all, but about a behavior in the fandom I've also noticed; where someone's response to the information that deconfirms their criticism is 'well, but I am already too hurt and disappointed to dig deep and analyze, so…' No, not how it works. You are making a claim about existing piece of writing and thus put skill of the writer up to scrutiny, not writing your own AU/headcanon, therefore be ready to deal with counter-evidence if there is any!

Another example off the top of my head was that existence of Gaius allegedly contradicted the pre-established lore about oppression of Albinaurics! I want to point out though that the person who originally made this claim was nice and never denied validity of the counter-arguments! But as for the subject, I will repeat that it is very easy to assume that there would be some double standards put in action! Like 'oh yeah Albinaurics are cringe, but this one is nice to me so he is an exception'! Or 'yeah we all hate Albinaurics, but this one is HELPING us in the Crusade against those spurned of Grace, he is paying the price for being an impure species himself, let's be nice to him guys :)' (🤡🤡🤡).

In this case things are easy to explain not through digging into information in the game further, but through putting into consideration how humans tend to work! Though Messmer, for one, has his more humane traits stated with how he respected the wishes of his Fire Knights when some of them protested against burning Rauh Ruins, and Gaius might be an extension of that sympathetic side of him! Opinion that saying Radahn was admired by the twins for his kindness contradicts the lore falls apart even EASIER; it is not hard to assume he maybe used to be kind! Miquella even specifically revived his younger version, and it is very telling!

All in all, the writers do not need to overexplain every single thing to prove that there is no contradiction or things make sense! Elden Ring is entirely written in such a way where by just digging deeper, connecting the dots or even applying your imagination and experiences you can easily explain why things work! I just want to really, REALLY accentuate it that before you cry 'bad writing!!!' or 'contradiction!!!', give it SOME extra thought! And if you are not willing to because of disappointment/weak attention span/anger/etc, then don't make the claim to BEGIN with! What is the point of making a claim when you are not in the right state of mind to make SURE it is valid? Bashing a story or a writer while willfully not being fair to them with your effort and research is something better reserved for private chats with the friends just to let it all out, but not for the public blog for all other fans to read and REACT at!

24) "If fans have to fill the gaps and think themselves it's a bad writing"

Sigh… This is relevant to the earlier addressed complaint about fans 'coping', and somewhat relevant to the complaint about 'they should have given more information', AND reverse complaint to how they've answered some questions in SoTE, I suppose. For starters, this argument could not be further from truth at all! Do you really, genuinely, want to say that instead of provoking you to think, to express creativity and curiosity, to apply your knowledge or experience for understanding, writers should have just spoon-fed you every single thinkable bit of information as if you are a toddler? For sure, the discussion about how writers treat reading comprehension of their audience cannot come without addressing the demographics that supposedly would benefit from "over-explanation", so I'll jump RIGHT into it, skipping through the normies:

As an autistic person, I do have my own problems with sometimes skipping through a subtext or an "obvious" clue in the writing, this is true, and maybe people who want to state this are also autistic, I can't know for sure. But.. do we REALLY want to have our intellectual abilities insulted, as a group? Accommodating to autistic people should come locally, like in teaching the society to be more patient with 'stupid' questions and explaining the 'obvious' social cues! It SHOULD be about society being better! It should NOT be about quality of fiction in videogames and movies and TV shows dropping! It should NOT be about writers sacrificing the amazing language of subtlety, nonverbal storytelling and speaking through assumption that our own experiences as human beings will fill in the gaps! We can understand subtexts and unspoken lore, even if it might be harder. When we cannot, autists that did understand the subtext explain it to us! When THEY cannot, there will always be the guy on Youtuber or elsewhere musing about what they liked or disliked in the writing, revealing the information that we might have missed, and we will go 'huh'. We can help ourselves and each other!

Instead of being mad at the writers for not giving more spoken information and evidence, let's place the pieces of the whole puzzle that we did find together to discover a full picture and teach others AND themselves to be patient instead of screaming "reeee media illiterate!!!" at every sneeze! I have insulted another autist's intellectual abilities over not reading the clue I managed to. I had MY intellectual abilities insulted by another autist over not reading the clue THEY managed to! We should strive to be better and kinder as society, AND we should have pride in the ability to do so and ourselves, instead of implying that complicated, subtle writing is "too hard" for our "tiny toddler brains"!

Aside of the general sentiment that the writing that provokes you to use your brain/heart/both to fully comprehend it and gives fuel for debates and discussion, I want to address specifically Miyazaki and how he approaches writing, and why he does so. I want to link the video by Zullie regarding the topic, too:

To paraphrase it: Miyazaki, in his youth, loved reading English novels, but because he didn't have as great knowledge of English language at the time, some words or even sentences evaded him and he had to use his own imagination to understand what might have happened in the parts he could not read! The experience of having general layout and understanding of the story, but details being missed here and there and left up to you to think about, is precisely what he wanted to emulate! You might guess "the words lost in translation" correctly, or you might end up with a completely different meaning than the actual one, but what matters is the fun of this process! To include YOU, an individual, into completing the story! Bloodborne was the first Fromsoft's story I've gotten into, and even before knowing this information I had the feeling like, 'ah, they've written the full story, but then dragged an eraser across random parts'… and so, the hunch was correct!

Miyazaki doesn't just lazily drop ingredients in your direction expecting you to cook anything from them and then praise it as though it was HIS brilliant recipe, that some writers WILL do to sorta take the credit for your creativity! Nor he just cooks the full meal and gives it to you. He removes some ingredient from it so you CAN eat it and enjoy it, but you are always tempted to add something! Something feels missing, but it is up to you WHAT spice you add to complete it! Yet this meal is coherent enough for you to have a hunch on whether you should add something sour, sweet or salty, it is not quite JUST anything! But if you don't think hard about it and add what YOU like, regardless of whether you think it fits the meal or not, the meal won't necessarily taste bad… There IS recipe that exists. He DID write the story. He just lets you choose your own experience!

^^^ It goes in line with how he creates the games; he stated they are not adding the difficulty levels so players can overcome the challenge in some way that suits THEM as a player. Whether you want to cheat, or to grind levels until you become a God, or to cleverly use the tools and items you are given, or to study every move until you dodge them all or whatever! There is no "right" way to beat these games, though we could conclude from levels designs and tools what was 'intended' way to beat them! A 'suggestion'! You might end up going just the 'intended' way, or you might not! You might just happen to guess the missing story bits 'correctly', but also not, and this is okay!

We are endlessly teased with this feeling that if we think just a bit harder we will discover that hidden "right" way, and we all want to believe that we did! Fandom has two extremes between people who DO believe in One True reading of the story and stomp out every alternative suggestion AND people that claim there is no story and you can do whatever and canon doesn't matter and doesn't exist and all. The truth is somewhere in the middle, and it is so frustrating, it is so torturous at the times… but also, so clever and beautiful.

This approach is why discussion about the meaning of Dark Souls and Bloodborne is STILL alive a decade later and even "apparent" lore questions constantly get revisited, and Elden Ring will meet the same fate! Every boss will be beaten but there is always a different way. Every lore question will be answered, but there is always a different answer. Isn't it much better than if we just cOnSuMeD cOnTeNt in a short time and forgot it all, waiting the next one?

25) *frankly unfair toxicity towards creators, down to racism against Japanese*

(Jeez.. I am REALLY paying a hard price by not saving the screenshots of the terrible takes I am referencing, aren't I. -_-" Everyone will just decide that I've made up a guy because a take like this sounds too awful to be real, doesn't it…..) Look- Some lines should NOT be crossed. Say all you want about the writing quality, but how DARE you to bring in this sort of anime fetishes into this discussion? I am just without proper words, and I will not tolerate this slander of Miyazaki! Everyone, EVERYONE knows…. that his fetishes are feet and dying in absurd ways.

sdfjfdhfdsh OKAY OKAY SORRY I HAD TO, but in any case! Did you guys miss the part where Miquella's ever-young body was a curse, was acknowledged as a curse, was a counterpart to Malenia ever decaying as inability to change at all, and something he transcended when he became a God? At NO point his curse was brought up as something quirky and attractive, at NO point Radahn or anyone was addressed as someone finding guilty attraction to him! We had one (1) guy suggested to do that, Mohg, and they confirmed that his behavior was result of enchantment, but even if it was not: without the new information, it already looked like a BAD thing. Like a HORROR thing, even! Miquella wanted Radahn to be there for him as a consort/king, by STATUS, that we know as much! Nothing is there to outright state any of 'that' brand of attraction! It can range from 'yeah they kind of pulled the dynasty-preserving incest thing, very authentic to medieval royal dynasties vibe' to 'it was innocent and not romantic or sexual in any manner, consort is just a status of the second person after a titular God in this setting that doesn't have to be a partner'. You know what is missing from this range? This being a "fetish" that you could flail around in that 'well what else to expect from jApAnEsE developers, you know jApAn has a problem with such things right??????' (🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡)

________________________________

*long, relieved exhale*

So..... yeah, I am done I suppose fhhfds I know I forewarned it as sort of super angry and rude rant, but in a way, it turned out to be more of a love letter to SoTE than a hate letter to a certain kind of fandomry that I just was not able to avoid..

It is funny how it turned out, as at first I've had strong negative reaction of shock, and Radahn consort reveal even soured the first days of playing this DLC for me, heh. That disappointment hadn't vaned yet.. I do not vigorously oppose weird, problematic ships of course, I still stand by what I said about creative freedom. But I guess I kinda did not want Miquella to have any "ship" in canon...? It is hard to explain why, since I do not insist that he is mentally a child too. Maybe I've fallen for the person he WANTED to be, a 'God' that 'loves everyone equally / no one', so him singling out someone disagreed with that "possessive" streak more than I disagreed with how random Radahn felt?

Even so, aside of this, I've been slowly understanding writers' decisions more and more! And those I did not understand I've found to be valid and not broken at all as well! But despite warming up to SoTE more and more with every day and becoming a fan, I was not able to avoid the "window" to VERY toxic and awful takes, some from very toxic PEOPLE, that was my (ex) mutual abundantly reblogging them and.. I guess when I've finally snapped about how strongly I disapproved of that behaviour and how it was all passive aggression all along, my very only inhibitor was just- *snaps fingers*

Moral of the story: if something rubs you a very wrong way, do not keep it in and ADDRESS it. Because if you hope that the alert factor will go on its own, all you'll end with is telling each other very unpleasant things. Pent up aggression ALWAYS breaks through.

In this case, I just feel relieved after having finally written all these thoughts down SOMEwhere. They were eating me from inside, reducing my HP by randomly appearing in my brain even when I was busy and I just could not help but rotate them. Venting is good and healthy. I have some bad troubles with both mental and physical health these days, but at least now there is one LESS thing to siphon my energy away. 🛏️

[gds-daisy]

here for the bigbang matching event!!

1. ry!! aka @namsgyu

2. she/her but i don’t really mind!! presenting feminine but not overly (if that makes sense? lowkey depends who im around. if they have more feminine energy, ill swoon over to more masculine and opposite!!)

3. little bit of both!! i like talking to new people, but i wont share a lot of details about myself. but with my closest friends i’ll talk about AAAANYTHING. definitely a bit of self-deprecating humor to cope with life and its troubles. i journal a lot to make sure my best AND worst memories never get forgotten, both are life lessons after all! on the weekends, love going out with small group of friends to restaurants (izakayas!) and having a few drinks and even a smoke if the night ends up in that direction. HUGE karaoke fiend! screaming is such a GOD TIER for me to release the pent up stress accumulated over the week

4. recently my hobby has been immersing myself in learning japanese. anime, manga, dramas, podcasts, im learning it all!! it’s also to help me for my japanese proficiency test im taking in july. i like shopping if thats considered a hobby? mainly for my apartment like new plates or for fashion items like clothes, makeup, accessories, etc!

5. biggest pet peeve is when someone can’t read the room. for example, i was at karaoke recently and this guy queues five of his own songs that NOBODY else knew!! like hello dude we have songs we’d like to sing too, at least pick something other people can sing along to!!

6. my ideal partner, hmmm that’s a tricky one. i really like when people understand me without me having to say anything because im can be quite shy when speaking up about what i like or not. i’m the type of person to say smth like “i can go anywhere as long as its with you” but i really like going to amusement parks with huuuuge roller coasters!! somewhere we can take a lot of photos and have fun together without thinking toooo hard on what to do

7. acts of service!! melts my heart when people do something for me, even as small as saving a seat for me on the bus.

8. usually i have a really tomboy-ish style! catch me in a simple t-shirt, baggy pants or athletic shorts, and a windbreaker. i love wearing nike clothes! if im going for an outing though, i keep the baggy pants and swap a t-shirt out for something more fitted, it’s my time to show off my body!! most of the time im wearing darker clothes or beige/grey tones!

9. my favorite color is dark red? burgundy if you will. i’m standing at a short 5’1 (abt 155-157 cm). currently studying at an international university, majoring in business admin! currently i’ve been into korean and japanese pop and can listen to anything expect for country (idk, i can’t vibe with it). i’m an only child so a lot of my life was spent under strict parental monitor, so to have fun i had to sneak around a lot!!

10. nsfw pls 👉🏼👈🏼 im a switch leaning sub!! if the person im with is strongly dominant, i will have no problems complying! if they’re switchy, it definitely will bring out the dom in me hehe. idk how many of these are considered as kinks but i like: oral (giving AND receiving), cnc/free use, degradation, public/semi-public, hands GOD i love hands, VEINS UGH YES, overstim!

im sorry if this was so long- i figured you’d have an easier time if there was a lot of details you could pick from!! IM SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU COME UP WITH!! be sure to take lots of breaks in between writing these!! MWAH 🩷💞

for ry 🖤

i match you with…

kwon jiyong

you and jiyong match each other so well <3

your energy is what captivates him and steals his heart

he absolutely loves that you guys have a similar work ethic but it also worries him

when he notices you’re a bit more burnt out than usual, he steps in and tells you to take a day for yourself

there’s unwashed dishes? he’ll take care of it. you need to do laundry? he’ll take care of it.

he’ll even make sure to buy all of your fave snacks along with a VERY cheesy stuffed animal before coming home to surprise you

the two of you decide to watch a variety of different shows and movies

he loves watching them with you because he loves seeing you happy and all smiley (he loves them as well but he would never confess that to you)

when you suggest going to an amusement park, he automatically says yes because he hasn’t been able to experience it with how time consuming his trainee life was and who better to experience it with than you? <3

you talk him into going on the ferris wheel and even some of the more “scary” rides

“ji, it’s not that scary!” you say with a giddy laugh as the ride starts to become more turbulent while he’s screaming his lungs out.

despite this he still managed to have a great time and even won you a manga stuffed animal (which he spent TOO much money to win but he would do anything for you <3)

jiyong LOVES tagging along with you on solo shopping trips and seeing how cheery you get

he ends up paying for everything and carrying all your bags without you having to ask him even though you insisted you could take care of it

even when you’re out shopping with friends, he’ll still hand you his black card :)

there’s nothing jiyong loves more than watching you sing your little heart out at karaoke night

if someone annoys you there, you’ll be a bit more sulky for the rest of the night which means jiyong has to take things into his own hands even if it involves dragging you back on that stage! :)

he notices that you tend to journal a lot and when you run out of space, he will buy you a brand new one and surprise you with it

“oh ji you didn’t have to!” you cried out as you wrap your arms around him, his hands now tracing the small of your back.

nsfw!!

when you and jiyong first had sex together, you could tell he was holding back a bit

the sex was still passionate and lustful don’t get me wrong, but you could tell he didn’t want to push your limits until he was sure what you liked

when you told him you were into free use, you guys made sure to have a safe word just in case things went too far

after all consent is very sexy!!

after that conversation it was like something changed in jiyong and the way he fucked you

sometimes you were woken up in the morning by him devouring your wet cunt

this man gets so pussy drunk it’s not even funny.

“g’morning jagi,” he says to you softly. “and good morning to you too,” he says to your pussy in between each individual flick of his skilled tongue

he also puts your free use kink to good use when you misbehave for him ESPECIALLY IN PUBLIC

“such a greedy slut for me, aren’t you jagiya?” he says as he piledrives his cock into you while you’re mounted against the bathroom stall door, forced to take every inch.

jiyong noticed your fixation for his hands almost immediately

during sex, he always makes it a point to slip his fingers into your mouth for you to suck

while he loves being in charge, he still needs to be taken care of every once in a while :)

after a long day, he’ll come home to you absolutely exhausted and you know exactly how to relieve some of his stress—by riding him of course!

jiyong is a SLUT when you suck him off

he’ll be letting out the most orgasm-inducing moans and whimpers known to man, which only makes you double your efforts and suck him off even harder

safe to say that man will cum down your throat without any complaints from you!

aftercare is so so important to the two of you!

in most cases, one of you will run a bath for the two of you to enjoy together and enjoy each others company in your dazed out states

if you guys are too exhausted to get up, you guys will cuddle until both of you eventually fall asleep <3

[cheekykitsune]

Agitation

Hey guys!

So here's a little Kyojuro x Reader piece for you all! It's set in the Mafia AU and while it's not super spicy, it does have a certain kind of tension to it.

Now, this post is technically an hour late...but that's because I went to bed early last night, woke up late and then had things to do, cause I'm a functioning and apparently moderately functioning adult.

Usually I queue these up to post at certain times so that I can work on other things, but either way, it's here now! And that's the important thing.

Anyways, go ahead and enjoy the mafia-drenched charm of Kyojuro!

   You blinked, barely catching the sound of the study door slamming shut over the frantic footsteps that now echoed down the hallway.

  Two of Kyojuro’s subordinates—grown men—rushed past you. Looking completely and utterly terrified; avoiding eye-contact with you as if your gaze might drag them back into the lion’s den they had just escaped from.

  You tilted your head, eyebrows raising in a mix of surprise and curiosity. Kyojuro so very rarely lost his temper—and when he did, well, you couldn’t blame them for wanting to be anywhere but in his line of sight. Still though, it was curious, you hadn’t heard any shouting. No breaking glass. No blood. Just silence.

  Which, in all honesty, was worse.

  Deciding to satiate your curiosity, you made your way over to his study—each step light and purposeful, making little sound on the polished floors. You eased the door open with a gentle push, slipping through the gap and letting it close behind you with a firm click.

  “Kyojuro?”

  You kept your voice light—careful—as you called out to him. Treating the situation like you were stepping into a cage with a sleeping beast; but not out of fear. No, it was out of respect.

  He didn’t turn around. Kyojuro stood with his back to you, shoulders taut beneath the dark stretch of his tailored shirt. One hand held the neck of a crystal decanter, the other steadying a heavy glass as amber liquid sloshed into it with a slow, controlled pour.

  The bar cart beside the window caught the late afternoon sun, casting golden reflections along the edges of his broad frame.

  You lingered at the door for a moment longer, watching the tension roll beneath the surface; then, your steps brought you closer. Slow, but unhesitant, until you were only a few feet behind him.

  “Kyojuro.” You spoke again, softer this time, but still loud enough to catch his attention—though he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he raised the glass to his lips, took a measured sip before finally speaking.

  “They forgot who they were speaking to.”

  The words made your stomach flutter with anticipation. That tone of voice always made you react like that; it told you that your Alpha was agitated—sure, he appeared to be calm and in control of himself; but experience told you that if you pushed just right, you were in for a fantastic experience.

  “I see…” You hummed, drawing closer until you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “And do you think you managed to remind them?”

  Kyojuro’s broad shoulders rose with a breath—controlled, but tight. He set the glass down on the bar cart with a clink, knuckles flexing as though he was trying to resist the urge to crush it in his palm.

  His head turned slightly, just enough so that you could see the sharp line of his jaw. “Oh, I reminded them.”

  Your lips curled as you watched him. “And I’d bet you didn’t even have to raise your voice.”

  Kyojuro turned fully to face you, his gaze meeting yours—his face was composed, but his scent told a different story. Smoke. Spice. And the barely-there bite of aggression still simmering under his skin.

  “You know me better than that, Love.” He chuckled humourlessly, his voice low and smooth. “I never need to shout to make a point.”

  No. He didn’t. His presence alone was enough. You had seen full-grown men fall to pieces under nothing more than a look from him. But that wasn’t what made you step closer, and it certainly wasn’t what made your fingers itch to touch him.

  It was that low, controlled rage—the kind that made every muscle in his body hum like a drawn bow.

  “You do have a way of putting people in their place, I’ll admit that.” You smiled, eyes drifting down to his chest before dragging back up to his meet his gaze. “But it does make me wonder where my place is today…”

  In an instant, his arm was around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. The heat of his body poured into yours, his other hand sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck; tilting your head up as he looked down at you with narrowed eyes and a dangerous grin.

  “Careful.” He murmured; voice rough. “I’m not in the mood to be teased, my beautiful Omega.”

  “I’m not teasing.” You whispered back to him, tilting your head to the side, your breath brushing against his lips. “I’m offering myself as a distraction.”

  The growl that rumbled from his chest made your thighs clench. Then, he kissed you. It wasn’t soft, nor was it sweet. It was a claiming.

  An open-mouthed, bruising, breath-stealing kiss that pulled a soft whimper from your throat. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours, demanding more—demanding everything—as his hand tightened at your waist; fingers curling possessively.

  Your hands gripped at the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto as the taste of rum and smoke flooded your senses.

  He broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling with a sharp edge. “You always come to me when I’m like this. Why is that?”

  You blinked up at him, more than a little breathless. “Because when you’re like this, you need me.”

  A dangerous grin stretched across his lips at your answer.

  “You’re right.”

  And then he was lifting you—strong arms gripping under your thighs as he carried you across the room; each step filled with barely-leashed hunger. Your back hit the desk with a gentle thud, papers sliding from beneath you and fluttering to the floor.

  You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were tugging your thighs wider, sliding up higher while his gaze dropped to your lips; a low rumble building in his chest again.

  His fingers moved away from your thighs and to his belt, undoing it slowly. Taking his time and enjoying the needy expression on your features.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, (Name)…” He trailed off, dragging the leather through the hoops of his pants. “Then I won’t be gentle with you.”

  You shivered in delight at the lowly uttered warning; delighted. You didn’t want gentle from your agitated Alpha—you wanted everything he had to give, and then some.

[loveshotzz]

Is It New Years Yet?

steve harrington x fem!reader ✨Part One✨

Santa Tell Me

summary: When you meet Steve Harrington the first time it’s by accident, the second time a coincidence, and by the third he’s calling it fate.

wc: 8.1k

warnings: 18+ series, a christmas meet cute with steve who’s in his 30’s, smut in later chapters, drinking, smoking, eddie munson is our best friend/roommate, him and steve don’t know each other in this AU.

authors note: this wasn’t supposed to be this big or long but here we are. thank you for all your patience and sweet words, I’m so excited to share this with you.

series masterlist -> ✨ part two

The Marshall Fields feels alive with only three weeks left until Christmas, making it a next to impossible mission to get to your job in the restaurant that sits on top of the seven story tourist attraction. At least on time.

Bing Crosby’s ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas’ spills from the speakers overhead, the deep baritone of his voice is barely audible over the low murmur of conversation happening all around you. Lush, large boughs of green pine hang pristine from the historically tall ceilings, shimmering tinsel draped with purpose at the ends of them catching in the light. It reflects off the gold ornaments that cover it in a perfect pattern. It’s almost enough for you to forget how annoyed you are.

Your slip resistant shoes catch and scuffle along the deep crimson carpet as you move through the shoulder to shoulder crowd. It doesn’t take you very long to find a break in it, still scratching at your nose that itches from your walk through the fragrance department. Your small victory is quickly diminished when you see a swarm of families standing in front of the golden doors of the elevators. 

You silently curse yourself for not leaving earlier, completely forgetting that Santa was on the fifth floor today. As if on queue, a little girl with perfect blonde curls that bounce as she runs smacks into your legs just like your realization, falling back on her butt with a thud. Her pearly white dress flutters around her, and the two of you stare each other down for what feels like an eternity until her mother rushes over with panicked apologies right as her daughter breaks out the waterworks. 

The noise makes you grimace, mumbling a ‘it’s fine’ under your breath before turning on your heel. Reaching behind, you pull your phone from your back pocket to see just how late you really are, accepting defeat with having to take the scenic, much more time consuming route up the escalators. The bold white numbers that flash across the screen tell you that you’re already five minutes past the start of your shift. A long sigh slips from between your lips as you give up on trying to rush. 

Moving with the flow of the crowd, the beginning jingle of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play, and with the grand spectacle of the yearly decorations, it’s hard not to feel all the emotions of nostalgia they’re trying to pull from you, making you roll your eyes singing along with her under your breath.

The big water fountain in the middle of the men’s department comes into view from the tops of bobbing heads, one of the many physical markers in this building you’ve had to use so you don’t get lost in the retail maze they’ve created, letting you know that you’re close to your destination. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to gear up to break free from the human traffic jam, the signs pointing to the escalators in your sights. His panicked voice is what you hear first, an obvious friendliness still hidden underneath it despite the way it shakes every time you hear him say “excuse me?” 

Your eyes search for the owner, and when you find him, regret buries itself deep in your gut when they land on his face.

A perfect mess of dark chestnut hair, with tips that look like they were dipped in honey sits on top of his head. The hints of gold hidden inside shimmer under the lights, as it curls wildly behind his ears. It almost looks styled that way, that is until you see his big hand run through it twice in the span of a few seconds. Warm brown eyes squint as he turns in a full circle glancing between his phone and the signs the point to the city street exits on either side of him. The hoards of people surrounding him completely ignoring his existence as he looks around painfully lost. 

His nose is sharp, just like his jaw that’s dusted with the faint  hint of a five o’clock shadow. The two prominent moles that sit side by side on his cheek stick out on his unseasonably sun kissed skin that seems to glow against the dark maroon color of his sweater. It’s snug across a broad chest, just like the washed out black jeans that fit a light too well around his thighs. His chocolate colored peacoat looks tailored to fit his biceps, with shiny gold buttons that match the buckle on his russet leather loafers, and the chain that dangles from around his neck. 

You watch him try to ask a few friendly faces for help, only receiving a shrug and a half smile by the ones that actually acknowledge him. He mutters something that sounds sarcastic to himself as you get closer, his hands moving animatedly before he huffs pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, or the Mariah Carey, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’d rather take pity on a handsome stranger than go to your job. Whatever reason it is, you decide to make the stupid mistake to help him.

“Hey,” you greet timidly, getting just close enough to smell the cedar and cinnamon that seems to cling to the expensive wool of his coat, ignoring the way your stomach flips because of course he smells good right?  

“Are you lost?” 

He doesn’t hear you over the internal battle going on inside his head, not even registering that someone is finally stopping to offer the help he’d just been pleading for, quietly grumbling, ‘you wanted to move to the city, now you can’t even find your way through a damn store’.

You clear your throat before it can get anymore awkward, alerting him of your presence while letting your curious gaze wander up his tall broad frame. Those squinted brown eyes look big now as they meet yours, and you can see green inside them that you couldn’t before and it sparkles brighter than the tinsel hanging from the boughs behind him. 

Yeah, you’ve made a huge mistake.

He blinks a few times, before a wide smile stretches across his face somehow making him even more handsome as he reveals a set of perfectly straight teeth. The smile pushes up his cheeks, and crinkles the skin around his eyes, and you watch all the aggravation from before melt off of his perfectly sculpted face and you wish you could go back those few minutes in time and abort the mission. This is no damsel in distress.

“Hi” is all that he says, peony’s painting his cheeks as he runs his hand through his thick hair again. It looks even softer up close.

“Hey,” you giggle, nerves taking over and you want to pinch yourself for it. “I just wanted to see if you needed some help, you look a little lost.” 

You try to seem indifferent when you catch the way his gaze roams quickly down your body, thankful you did laundry last night and had on your tight fitting work slacks today that showed off your curves. 

“So lost!” He groans, the blush on his cheeks deepening with the tips of his ears. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t even know what floor I’m on.”

You try to hide the way you snort, slapping your palm over your mouth.

“Hey, be nice!” He laughs, trying his best to fight it to put on a hurt expression, “this is like my first time here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you try to fight off you smile, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you —“

“Steve,” interjects with a grin, those perfect teeth biting at his full bottom lip as he sticks out one of his hands for you to take, a gold band wrapped around his middle finger you didn’t notice before gleaming when it hits the light.

“Well, Steve,” you try not to laugh, which ends up being easy to do when you slip your hand into his and watch it disappear behind his long fingers when they wrap around them. “You’re on the first floor if you can believe it.

“That’s fucking embarrassing. Wow.” He groans, letting your hand go to run his palm down his face, and you hate that you feel the loss in your gut. “Sorry I didn’t mean to cuss.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” You tease with a wink, enjoying the way it only makes the color on his face deepen. “Where are you trying to go? I work on the seventh floor. I might be able to take you on my way.”

It takes Steve a minute to formulate an answer to your offer, still stuck on the fact a complete stranger was being so nice to him, and the silence between you goes on just long enough to make you second guess everything.

“Or I could just try and give you directions if that’s more comfortable for you.” You offer, adjusting the straps of your backpack nervously.

“I’m trying to get to the women’s department,” Steve finally blurts out, sensing the shift in your energy and quickly tries to recover with another card through his hair and a crooked smile, “specifically the handbags, and I absolutely think you should take me.”

His gaze narrows the color in his eyes darkening into something more flirtatious than nervous. 

“Who knows how long it’d take me to get there without a beautiful, clearly smart woman such yourself to help me anyway.”

Your stomach does that thing that you hate again, and all the heat in your body licks at your cheeks like flames. You can’t remember the last time a man actually used the word beautiful. Hot? Absolutely. Cute? Sure. Pretty? Yeah, a few times, but never beautiful. It sits in your chest where it blossoms into another painfully big smile that pushes your cheeks up even more, and you have to look away from his face for a moment when he matches it with his own.

“O- okay, if you just, uh wanna follow me?”  Words get lost on your tongue and it comes out more shy than you would’ve liked, but you turn on your heel before you can think too hard about it when he gestures you forward.

You hear him mutter ‘are you kidding me?’ under his breath as you lead him to the escalators just around the corner, making him realize how close they were this whole time and you wonder just how long he was actually looking for them. The smell of mint hits your nose as you pass the Frango chocolate stand and it mixes with the spice of his cologne as he trails close behind. Butterflies threatening to break from cocoons hearing the way his steps match yours. 

He stops next to you as you come to halt to wait your turn to hop onto the moving metal steps. You look up at him and there’s an awkwardness that threatens to fill the small space between you that has you giving him a tight lipped smile that he returns with the kind of confidence that makes your palms sweat and you have to look away. 

“I say we make our move after white puffer coat comin’ up here.” His voice startles you when it comes out low, close enough to the shell of your ear that you swear you can feel the whisper of his lips. Spearmint stings your nose from the gum that snaps between his teeth, and the heat of his breath makes goosebumps jump along the back of your neck. 

Why did you do this?

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye, letting him see the playful glint that dances in them before giving a curt nod of your head.

“On the count of three…” You play along, despite everything inside you telling you to stop flirting back and it makes Steve’s whole face light up, long fingers flexing at his side with the need to find yours again.

“One..” He starts, and your eyes meet ‘white puffer coat’ who’s now only a few steps away before finding Steve’s again who’s stare very obviously never left your face.

“Two..” You giggle trying to hide the way your body starts to buzz and if it wasn’t for Steve’s giddy expression you’d be more embarrassed than you actually are.

“Thre-“ His final count gets cut off by the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his, tugging him onto the stairs early with a loud cackle that has you throwing your head back and he swears the sound tilts his world off its axis.

His cheeks dust pink under the bright light looking down his nose at you with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. An expensive loafer sits wedged between your work shoes and the other on the step above, caging you against the side as you ride up to the next floor, and he’s close enough for you to see a smattering of more freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the side of his neck, even one on the tip of his earlobe.

He’s still holding your hand.

Your fingers twist and flex at the realization, dropping from his hold and Steve clears his throat because of it. Adam’s apple bobbing as you land on the second floor, he shoves his hand in his pocket, standing a more appropriate distance from you as you get on the next set of stairs going up.

“So what’s on the seventh floor?” He asks, finally breaking the silence that crackles with something you aren’t prepared for today.

“Oh, um, The Walnut Room.” you know where the big Christmas tree is?” You answer with a small smile and it makes him snort, the noise making your eyes go big and the corners of your lips twist up more.

“I couldn’t find the escalators, you think I know where the big Christmas tree is? Don’t flatter me so much or I’ll think you’re flirting with me, honey.” Steve grins, the cool air of confidence from before coming back and you hate that it makes your cheeks burn even worse the second time around.

“Well,” you start unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze as the two of you make your way to the next set of escalators with nerves rattling in your chest as the new floor brings more people, and it makes it impossible for him to keep his distance this time, “now you know where it is.” 

“Is that an invitation?” He smirks looking down at you, teeth gleaming even whiter from this close and butterfly wings tickle at your rib cage.

“Getting a new purse for your girlfriend?” You ask in an attempt to dodge his obvious flirting, doing your best to ignore the way his fingers keep bumping into yours as you share the same step.

“Mom, actually. No girlfriend.” Your obvious prying makes something smug flash behind his eyes. “Is that the answer you were hoping for?” 

You huff with a roll of your eyes, unable to fight the way your cheeks push up again despite the shake of your head earning a deep chuckle from Steve who can see right through you.

“I actually just moved here, maybe a month ago,” he starts, your heart sinking a little at his reveal and your walls that had started to slowly retreat quickly go back up the few inches they dared to come down. “M parents, they’re….they’re tough to impress, and I’m just trying to find something nice for my Mom. Something that screams ‘Hey! Merry Christmas! I didn’t make a big mistake moving here!’ You know?”

You nod with the kind of laugh that makes his eyes sparkle at the noise.

“A purse absolutely says that, I think.” Your words drip with sarcasm as the two of you make your way onto the third floor, shoulders bumping as you turn towards the next set of moving stairs, both your feet landing on the same metal step again. 

“You know, I thought so too.” He beams, not missing a beat. “What about you? Got any fun plans with your boyfriend for Christmas?”

Before you have a chance to answer, an impatient woman choosing to walk the escalators in the kind of rush you should really be in knocks into Steve’s back with her shoulder, making him lose his balance and stumble into you. Large hands grab at your waist to steady himself, the warmth of his palms spreading through your body as it seeps through the thin material of your slacks. The steady beating in your heart stutters before your pulse kicks into overdrive when the mint on his breath fans against your neck for the second time as he mutters an apology finding his balance again. You bite at the inside of your cheek when he finally lets you go, straightening up to his full height again.

“Gotta love the holidays.” You laugh, letting out a shaky breath that threatens to give you away.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year, or that’s what they say.” Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair again. 

He somehow leaves it even messier than before, and you have to fight the urge to fix it for him, as the top of the fourth floor comes into view along with the end of your time with the man you only half way regret helping now.

“The answer to your question is no, by the way.” You finally speak up, a mischievous glint in your eye that matches your smile.

“No you don’t have any fun plans? Or No you don’t have a boyfriend?” He tries to clarify, with the kind of lopsided grin that has your knees wobbling under it.

You don’t have time to recover when the ground underneath you stops moving as you both hit the bright red carpet of the women’s department. The fast moving crowd and the fact that you’re pushing nearly twenty minutes late for work is the perfect escape you need to get yourself out of making the mistake of staying long enough for the charming new to the city bachelor to ask for your phone number. 

“Handbags are over there.” You point to the giant Michael Kors logo that shines gold against a hot pink wall behind him, and you seize the moment he turns to follow the direction of your finger to hop back onto the escalators without a word.

You laugh echoes and bubbles over the even happier sounds of the Christmas music when Steve turns around to find you already half way up to the fifth floor.

“Really?” He throws his hands up, watching as you climb higher.

“I’m late for work! I hope your mom likes her gift!” You wave with the kind of smile that he’s sure will haunt his dreams tonight, that makes the corners of his lips twitch despite himself. “It definitely screams you didn’t make a mistake! Nice meeting you Steve!”

It had been four days since your run in with Steve, and much to your dismay that disheveled head of hair didn’t want to leave your mind no matter how much you tried. His breath stealing smile, and freckled skin invaded every day dream and even found their way into the ones in your sleep. No matter how many times you tell yourself that a man who looks like that has endless opportunities in a city like this, and he’s not going to tie himself down with a waitress who still splits her rent with a roommate. 

A change of scenery and a day off spent alone at the Christmas market is almost enough to do the trick as you search for ornaments to put on the tree your roommate Eddie tried to stop you from getting, arguing that he’d have to be the one to take care of it if you got a real one. Which to be fair, ended up being true, but when you catch him reading Lord of the Rings under its twinkling lights, you don’t think he minds it all that much.   

A few ornaments, two hot ciders, and a record shop later, you find yourself waiting for the train home looking at the sunset that paints the skyline in sherbet orange and red behind shimmering buildings. Lost in the music that spills from your AirPods, flashing lights catch at the corners of your eye, and the sounds of the holiday train start to get louder as its bright presence rolls up to the platform. The Santa that you know has to be freezing waves at everyone that’s waiting as it pulls in, and you can’t stop the way your cheeks push up despite the annoyance you would have normally felt if you were actually commuting somewhere in a rush.

The workers dressed as elves greet you with baskets of candy cane’s and bright smiles when the doors open, and relief floods your system when you see the train car is mostly empty. You give them a friendly wave and a nod, accepting the sweet treat before claiming your seat for the nine stops you needed to pass to get home. Red and green string lights flash strung up from the ceilings, and the silver metal poles that stick through the middle now resemble the candy they're passing out. The white fluorescent lighting that usually washes everyone out is replaced with a deep blue, and the faint sounds of  Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ battles for dominance with the music in your headphones.

Relaxing into your seat, you let the steady rocking of the train lull you back into your thoughts, disappointed when they inevitably go back to the man you’ve been trying to forget. Thighs pressing at the memory at the feeling of his hands grabbing at your hips on the escalator, you huff and cross your arms in a silent pout. How can you have a crush on someone you don’t even know? 

The car starts to fill up more and more as the stops go, and by the third one you’re squeezing your tote bag to your chest with people surrounding you as they hold onto the plastic handles above your head. It’s hard to see anything above anyone’s waist, and you shuffle a little awkwardly in your seat. The spot in front of you frees up by the next stop and at the same time your AirPods die, a sigh of relief slips past your lips at the brief reprieve before the group waiting outside scurries in. That’s when you hear him…again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. First the damn bus, now the train? Jesus fuck- exuse me, god, I’m gonna be so late.”

The familiar smell of cedar and cinnamon envelopes your senses when a pair of black dress slacks fill your vision with a gold belt buckle on his waist that matches the chain you already know is dangling from his neck, and the ring on the hand that’s gripping the handle above you. 

You curse under your breath, taking your AirPods out and the muffled sound of Dean Martin’s ‘Let It Snow’ becomes full volume, along with the clinking of the metal tracks when the train lurches forward. Leaning back in your seat, you let your eyes wander up his broad torso you’ve reluctantly thought so much about. Steve’s a little more dressed up than the last time you saw him with a white button up tucked into his slacks. You can still make out the outline of his tank top underneath, despite the dim lighting, and the way he leaves the top two buttons undone flashes you a little bit of chest hair. The chocolate peacoat is replaced with a black one that has buttons to match. It fits around his arms just as good as the other one. 

His five o’clock shadow is gone now, and he somehow has even more freckles than before. Too distracted by him to scold yourself for having the urge to find and kiss them all, his messy bed head look he had the other day is replaced with something a little more controlled, and you wonder how much product he needed to use, especially that despite it all, a stray still threatens to fall across his forehead. 

“Not a fan of the holiday train are we?” 

Steve jumps at the sound of your voice, his eyes looking every direction but down until you clear your throat. They widen when they land on you just like the smile that spreads across his face, wiping away any signs of annoyance that plagued his features just seconds before.

“You!” He almost laughs, and he’s even more handsome than you remembered and you wonder how long it's going to take you recover this time, “Oh wow —“ even in the blue light you can see the way the color in his cheeks redden when he realizes that his crotch is unintentionally in your face, “let me just -“

He scoots back as far as he can which isn’t much but it’s enough to make the position the two of you find yourselves in less awkward.

“Well, well, well so we meet again.” He practically beams taking in your appearance now that you’re not dressed to go wait tables, catching the way he licks his lips before bringing his eyes back to yours. 

“It would appear so Steve.” Your smirk, proud of yourself for keeping up the act of playing hard to get.

“What do they call these things? Christmas Miracles?” His confident demeanor reappears and you’re disappointed that it sets your body on fire just like before.

Your snort loud enough for him to hear, earning you a deep chuckle from his chest that gets him that smile of yours he can’t stop thinking about.

“You think you’re so smooth don’t you?” You tease, biting at your bottom lip, meeting his eyes from under your lashes watching the way it makes the green and gold inside them turn into something darker.

“Not really, but I think it’s working for you.” He winks, closing the space he made between you to let someone off behind him holding your stare from down the slope of his nose.

You narrow your eyes at him before you roll them but the twitch of your lips gives you away making his grin turn Cheshire.

“Where are you off to this dressed up? Hot date?” You question with an arched brow.

“For someone who’s pretending not to have a crush on me, you’re certainly fixated on if I’m dating someone aren’t you?” Shaking his head, he’s even more smug than he was on the escalators, “but no, beautiful, I’m on my way to meet a business partner for dinner.”

There he goes using that word beautiful again.

“What about you? The missing uniform tells me it must be your day off, spend it with that boyfriend of yours?” Steve smirks trying to get the definitive answer you refused him a few days ago.

“You’re calling me fixated? I’m not the one obsessing over an imaginary boyfriend I made up for someone else.” 

Steve throws his head back in a booming laugh as a bright smile lights up his face in a way that rivals the train. 

“I bet you think you’re so funny don’t you?” He mimics your previous sentiment with an intensity in his gaze that has you squirming in your seat.

“Not really, but I think it’s working for you.” Biting your lip as you wink, his hold around the handle tightens, and the gold in his eyes darken more. “I’m surprised you’re heading out of the loop so dressed up, where’s this hot business date?”

Steve’s smile falters, and the color you’re so used to warming his face drains along with the intensity of his gaze.

“What do you mean out of the loop?” That panic you’d heard shaking his voice a few days ago returns, as he tears his eyes away from you to look at the map above your head. 

“Oh no, Steve.” You realize the mistake he’s made before he does.

“No, no, no, no,” he groans, stomping a shiny wingtip oxford on the dirty ground. “God, Richard, fuck - he’s going to be so pissed at me.”

He says the last part more to himself, regripping his hold on the handle, brows furrowing as he pinches his eyes shut in frustration. His chest heaves a few times, and the veins in his neck start to show before you hear his quiet exhale over the sounds of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’.

“Hey,” You start, and sweetness drips from your tone as you resist the urge to reach out and comfort him, “I’m getting off on the next stop, you can come with me if you want and I’ll help you get on the right train. It’s an easy mistake, really. We’ve all done it.”

He doesn’t open his eyes immediately, and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down but slowly they blink back open and meet yours. The teasing edge behind them is gone as they soften around the edges with exhaustion.

“I think I owe you my life at this point, honestly.” He huffs with a weak laugh and you know if his hair wasn’t done his hand would be running through it right now. 

“Just a little bit.” You tease pinching two fingers together with a scrunch of your nose.

“Thank you,” he holds your stare, sincerity painting his features with something that makes you want to stand up and hug him. 

“Anytime,” you shrug and it’s harder to fake being nonchalant when he looks at you like that. 

The train starts to slow down as it approaches your stop, and the people around you become restless as they prepare to push through the crowded car to get off. Your body reacts like muscle memory when it comes to a halt with another lurch, and you stand up without thinking about the little bit of space that separates you and the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about all week. 

Your chest brushes against a hard set of abs before and even harder set of pecs, the cedar and sandalwood of his cologne is stronger than the last time it took over your senses like this. Fresh. The faint smell of his aftershave tickles your nose, and the heat of his breath warms against the berry chapstick on your lips. The realization of your mistake hits right as you lose your balance, and your body falls flush against his.

“Whoa, honey.” Steve chuckles, one of his big hands grabbing firmly on the soft curve of your hip to hold you in place, and you swear you can taste the spearmint of his gum against your tongue from his proximity.

Your hands reach out on instinct grabbing at his waist, making the muscles underneath flex from your touch and you can just faintly hear his sharp intake of breath because of it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m so sorry.” You bumble, instantly regretting looking up to meet his gaze. The smirk of his pink full lips has all your blood rushing to your cheeks as you quickly try to untangle yourself from him.

“You’re fine,” he laughs in your ear as you push past him, and it sends a shiver through your bones, especially when you can feel the heat of his body behind you as he follows.

The wind hits your face stepping onto the platform and the chill in the air feels good against your skin. People rush and zoom all around you as they try and make their next connection while you and Steve stand under the sign that flashes the next train times. In a loud roar, the holiday spectacle departs with jingling bells that ring off into the distance along with the whir of the crowd leaving you and Steve alone. You try to ignore the tension that bubbles under his stare against the back of your head, threatening to spill over any second as you pull out your phone.

“You live around here?” He’s the first one to break the silence stepping next to you, his gaze shifting curiously to your phone screen.

“Yeah, like three blocks away.” You answer absently, scrolling through the train lines too distracted by your search for the right directions to give him.

He hums quietly in response, pulling out his own phone from his coat pocket. His energy shifts from the panic on the train to something calmer, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. A nervousness still lingers in his shaky exhale that pushes through his nose, rocking back on his heels before shoving his phone in his pocket.

“What if we went out to dinner instead?” Steve blurts out, and his hand that’s been itching to run through his hair finally does, “I mean if you don’t have any plans right now.”

“Didn’t you say it was a work dinner Steve?” You laugh, finally daring to look up at your phone at him. Big mistake. 

The wind catches his hair, and that long dark honeyed strand falls against his forehead while his teeth gleam at you in a hopeful smile.

“I feel like I kind of already missed it,” he chuckles, “I’m supposed to be there now and if I read those directions on your phone correctly it said what? - 45 minutes to get there?”

You glance down and see the bold numbers that only seem to go up as the minutes pass and rush hour starts to kick in. 

“Besides, I owe you dinner for coming to my rescue twice in one week. I think the universe is really trying to get us to go get drinks if you ask me sweetheart.” 

You laugh a little nervous, rolling your eyes to try and hide how you aren’t immune to his charms but the glint that sparkles in his stare tells you that it’s not working.

“I mean, I guess it’s only fair. I don’t want to mess with fate and all.” You sigh, and it makes his whole face light up, “but if Richard fires you, that’s not my fault.”

“You have my word, if this dinner ruins the entire reason I moved out here. I will not blame you.” He raises his hand in the air like he’s swearing under oath.

“Steve!” You gasp, shoving his arm, and it has him throw his head back in a loud laugh that echoes through the empty platform.

“I’m kidding, that’s not going to happen. I don’t think.” He grins, earning another eye roll from you, but he’s too giddy to care.

You choose the cozy little Ramen spot on the corner called The Furious Spoon that’s only two blocks from the train station. It’s a close enough walk to easily brave the deep chill that follows with the setting sun and casual enough so that this doesn't feel like something you’re telling yourself it’s not. 

A date.

The warmth of the restaurant hits your frozen cheeks, thawing the parts of you that got bitten from the cold. Ainese hangs thick in the air, making your mouth water while the two of you make your way to the empty seats at the end of the long table that lines the side of the restaurant. You pretend not to feel his hand on the small of your back despite it burning a hole through your jacket as you push through the puffy coats that drape over the stools on either side of you.

Shrugging your layers off, both of you follow suit finding a home for them on the wide rectangular seats. Steve tuts at you when you go to pull your seat out waving your hand away.

“Seriously? No.” You half whisper yell, but the corners of your lips twist up and he decides it’s an empty objection pulling your seat out for you with a wave of his hand gesturing you to sit.

“My mom would kill me if I didn’t,” he swears but his smirk tells you not to believe a word he says as he puts both his hands on either side of your stool, spearmint hot on his breath against the shell of your ear. Cedar and clove on the fabrics of his clothes, it feels like he’s everywhere as he gives you two pushes in.

His knee bumps into yours as he takes the seat next to you, and another waft of his cologne hits your nose. Biting your lip, you decide to distract yourself with the menu as you actively try to make sure your leg doesn’t bounce with anxious energy. The restaurant is more crowded than you expected and Steve’s closer than you wanted. Your heart thumps wildly against your rib cage, scaring the butterflies that laid dormant for the few days in his absence right as they had started to stretch their wings. 

“This all looks so good,” he hums, eyes scanning over the menu before bringing his attention back to you, chestnut and gold shimmering in the low light as he looks down the slope of his nose, licking his full lips, “Do you have a favorite?”

You can’t stop your gaze from flicking down to his mouth, words threatening to get caught on the tip of your tongue watching the way the corners curl up into a grin, small dimples pushing into his tan skin when he catches you.

“Depends on what you like protein wise, but my go to is The Mother Clucker.” You manage to get out, trying to clear out the nerves out of your throat.

“Excuse me,” he snorts, “the what?”

Rolling your eyes, you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean over tapping a red polished nail to the chicken option on the top.

“Do you need glasses Steve?” You giggle watching him squint to read it.

The question makes him look at you out of the corner of his eyes with a narrow stare. 

“I’ve had perfect vision since high school. Thank you very much.” He scoffs holding the menu further away as if to help him focus on the small bold lettering. 

“Sure looks like it, my mistake.” Raising a hand in mock surrender, the gesture makes him knock his knee with yours earning him a giggle.

“Here I am skipping out on an important work dinner to spend my night showing you how grateful I am and you’re just bullying me.” Steve only manages to keep a straight face until you hit him with a soft smack on his shoulder, a full bellied laugh escaping him when whatever retort you’re ready to give gets cut off by your server finally coming to the table.

Steve’s charm flows from him with ease as he speaks to the young guy with a big septum ring and spiked hair. He talks to him like they’ve been lifelong friends when you place your orders and it reminds you how easily he got that same genuine smile from you just a few days ago at work, and again now as you sit next to him for dinner instead of writing him off like you told yourself you would. Your stomach twists in knots when his knee bumps against yours and stays there, the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric of his slacks and your jeans.

“So did you end up finding your Mom a gift that screams ‘I didn’t make a mistake’?” You question resting your cheek in the palm of your hand as you lean on the table with your elbow, you lift your chin up a little at him and it makes him flush.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck, “I-I didn’t actually, so that's great. I’ll probably just get her a nice set of earrings or something, it won’t matter in the end anyways.”

His eyebrows knit together and for the first time all night he purposely avoids your gaze with a sip of his water. Your eyes follow the movements of his throat as he swallows.

“What do you mean it won’t matter?” You press, curiosity getting the best of you watching his confidence slip.

“My parents aren’t exactly thrilled that I moved out here to help with this start up, instead of taking over their family business back home. It’s a long story, but it was a big argument, well - multiple big arguments when I told them I was leaving.” He sighs, and you can see the dread of their arrival start to hang over his head like storm clouds. “Besides we never really spent Christmas together my whole life anyway, they were always traveling for work, so this whole thing is just -“ He rubs at his temple, “a thing.”

He runs his fingers through his hair without abandon this time.

“Ahhh,” you hum as missing pieces of Steve’s puzzle are revealed and you hate yourself for finding him more attractive because of it. 

“What about you?” He nods his head in your direction, mimicking your stance resting his head in his hand, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Well,” you start, more nerves settling deep in your chest as you start to lay some of your cards down, “I don’t go home for the holidays cause I usually have work. But me and my family get along fine, I guess. But my roommate usually goes to visit his uncle so I’ll probably order something really expensive to eat and watch a Christmas movie I don’t hate.” 

You shrug trying to hide that sometimes it does get to you, not having a full house of loud laughter or even someone to spend the day with, but the look in Steve’s eyes makes you feel like he sees you. He gets it.

“Favorite Christmas movie?” He asks without missing a beat.

“Oh, easy, The Grinch.” you snort.

“Fitting for you.” he winks, despite the tips of his ears turning red when your shoe finds his under the table.

“Rude. What about you? huh?” Your lashes flutter as you bite your lip feeling him start to play footsie with you. 

“Jingle All The Way, Arnold’s my guy.” He smiles big at the giggle you give him, and it warms your face just like his hand that slides further down his thigh, dangerously close to yours.

The bubble you find yourselves in pops abruptly when the smell of your soup hits your nose. Two large bowls get set down in front of you, steam pouring off the tops so much it fogs the glass window.

“You would like Arnold,” you manage to whisper yell over your servers arm and it’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes, ignoring you giving the waiter a pat on the back with a ‘thanks man.’

The rest of your dinner is filled with easy conversion and touches that linger more than they should, just like the secret paths heavy lidded gazes make to each other’s lips that aren’t so secret in the dim lighting with your feet still intertwined. You hate that as you learn more about him, the more you want to know. The questions come with follow up questions as he tells you about the life that he left behind, his best friend Robin who he hasn’t spent more than six hours without for the last five years and how it feels like he’s missing a limb. 

It feels mutual as both of you sit there long after your bowls are empty, snow falling from a now completely dark sky as Steve listens to you tell a story from high school like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. Just like the stories about you and Eddie before that, or the one about how you lost your I.D on a crazy night out. All of them felt like he was hanging on every word, and having his full attention like this made your stomach flip. The buzzing of your phone is what ends the night when your eyes catch how late it really is.

“Oh my god, is it really almost nine?” You gasp, but Steve seems unfazed, just like the tip of his shoe running up your calf.

“I’m actually surprised they didn’t kick us out,” he smirks, chuckling to himself before straightening his back. Deep crimson filling his cheeks when you both can hear the loud pop.

You’d tease him but you were too busy already missing his touch. God. Dammit.

“I should really get going, I didn’t realize we’ve been here for like three hours. I gotta be at work super early for this breakfast with Santa we’re doing,”  You huff, standing up and the change in energy is almost enough to make Steve’s head spin.

“You live like a block away, I think you’ll get home fairly quickly.” He looks at you confused as he stands up, watching you stuff your arms in your coat with a struggle with tangled sleeves.

“I just, I promised Eddie I’d be home at a certain time and he gets all worried when I’m not,” It’s a lie but you aren’t going to tell him that your panic is from the fear that spending this much time with him has now pushed you past the point of no return. 

He’s never going to leave your mind now.

“Let me walk you,” He insists, slipping on his coat with ease, broad shoulders filling it perfectly.

“I think you should worry about getting yourself home,” you tease, buttoning your coat that you won the fight with.

“Yeah, I can’t chance it, not without my good luck charm,” he winks and your knees wobble, “I’m calling an Uber. Can’t get lost that way.” 

“Let’s hope so,” you smirk, bumping shoulders with him despite yourself as you walk past.

“Hey! I thought we were friends now.” He whines following close behind, both of you giving a small wave to your server on the way out.

The cold air hits you the moment the swinging glass door opens, sending a shiver up your spine, tugging your coat closer, you silently curse the hint of cedar you catch on the fabric.

“Are we friends now?” You arch a brown turning on your heel to face him as you both hit the sidewalk.

“I was hoping,” he gives you that smile, the kind that you know always gets him what he wants, and god do you want to give it to him. But the gold shimmering on his belt and the reminder that he just moved here makes you stubborn and weary. “Maybe if you give me your number, we can do this again sometime and find out?”

“How about this,” you suck at the inside of your cheek loudly, and you almost feel bad when you see how his face drops, “If we run into each other again, you can have my number.”

Steve stares at you for a second, disbelief painting over all of his pretty features, but he’s quick to recover with a hand through his hair and a new poker face.

“Deal.” He sticks his hand out and now it’s you who has to take a minute to recover, “What? I accept.”

You narrow your eyes at him before you place your palm into his, that charming smile outshining the white snow that falls onto his long lashes. He purposely holds it longer than he should, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life when the warm pad of his thumb starts to rub small circles into your soft skin. 

“Till the next time beautiful, who knows, maybe I won’t take an Uber home. Take a gamble. I wonder who could possibly show up to rescue me.” He starts, earning another shoulder slap and a gasped ‘Steve!’

“Do not do that, Uber home you maniac.” You pull your hand away no matter how much you don’t want to, especially when he trails the tips of his fingers down your palm as he lets go.

“You win this time,” He grins pulling out his phone, and you watch him click the app before you start to walk towards the direction of home.

“I win every time, Steve.” You wink, taking a mental picture of the way it makes him bite his lip before you turn away hoping you didn’t just make some huge mistake.

Secretly hoping Steve Harrington gets lost again.

[storiesfromafan]

A/N: Hi everyone, been a little while. I have been working on various stories in an attempt to break the writers block. Finally finished something, though I'm not 100% on how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy.

Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Spin The Bottle

How the Hell did you get here, starring down at an empty glass bottle. Which was pointed at you, and on the other end was none other than Mattheo ‘God’s gift to every Hogwarts girl’ Riddle. That pointed, smouldering gaze boring into you, making you want to slink back to oblivion.

Ah yes, good old days where you weren’t on anyone’s radar. Not even Mattheo fricken Riddles radar. The bliss of not being notice, blending into the students around. Free of social queues, or being social in general besides you’re few friends. It was such a nice existence, and this past month you began to miss it.

But like every teen girl, towards the end of fifth year, you began to feel a bit restless. The need to feel pretty, to be seen by the opposite sex as something to desire. So, during the break you had taken a trip with your parents to Paris to visit family. While there you sort out advice from your older female cousins. They were beautiful, graceful and everything you wanted to be. They took you under their wings. Guided you, and made you over.

So, when it came time to gather on Platform 9¾ and head back to Hogwarts for sixth year, you were nervous but excited. Joyous but also filled with dread. For the invisible nerdy girl finally took off her glasses and used contacts. No longer boxed in by framing bangs, now they are slowly growing out. Along with the growing out your bangs you had ditched tying your hair up every day, instead letting your (colour) locks flow over your shoulders in soft curls, all thanks to your cousins and their tips. Finally, your frumpy clothes were gone, replaced with more fitted and fashionable ones.

Your sixth year was your fresh start. New year, new you. That’s what you told yourself. Unfortunately, your lack of social queues made you oblivious to notice all the eyes that saw and followed you. You were the shiny new penny, with a gleam catching everyone’s eye. Including the Syltherin heart throb that’s gaze was currently all you could notice.

Now back to the question at hand; how the Hell did you get here. Chalk it up to teen insecurities, some ambition and lack of male attention. That’s how you got here. Along with your friends pestering you to finally go to a Slytherin House party. They had begged, no pleaded with you. And reluctantly you gave in. Though a small part was intrigued. The stories over the years of House parties always piqued your interest. And going from an ugly duckling to a beautiful Swan made you think you should go. But you did not expect to play spin the bottle, nor have Mattheo land on you!

The boy should be outlawed for being so good looking, as well as charming and over all dangerous to the female population! And just like all the other girls, you had a small crush on the guy. But what female student didn’t? And if they said they didn’t, they are lying. For Mattheo was every girl’s type. All girls like a bad boy, and Mattheo was the definition of bad. He had the looks, the attitude, smokes, drinks, skips class, pulls pranks...you get my drift. Mattheo was the bad boy every girl wanted to save, or sacrifice themselves in the process.

“It’s you” Ella, one of your friends whispered nudging you.

Her words brought you back to reality, which also made time seem to return to normal. Releasing the breath you had been holding you looked to the bottle and then back to the Slytherin before you. Now came the time for the game to claim your first kiss, and with Mattheo.

Shakily you moved to your knees and moved to lean over the bottle, Mattheo following your movements. You both met over the bottle. He looked into your eyes, which no doubt showed how frazzled you were. A soft, sweet smile formed on his lips, which seemed to settle your nerves.

“Eyes on me” Mattheo said softly. “Forget everyone else, it’s just you and me...”

With some ease in your eyes and body, Mattheo didn’t wait for that spell to break, for he was the one to close the distance. The feel of his soft lips against yours brought you back to reality. Mattheo Riddle was kissing you! (First name) (Last name) were locking lips with the most crushed on male in your year, no school!

Slowly Mattheo moved his lips against yours, his tongue coming out to run along your bottom lip. Your body stiffened. First your first kiss, and now your first French kiss he wants to take!? Who did he think he was?

Noticing your hesitance, Mattheo pulled back and looked at you with questioning eyes. He hadn’t forced his tongue into your mouth, nor did he take your first French kiss. Part of your heart skipped a beat at how the bad boy had some gentleman in him. The ohhhs around you both brought you back to the present. You had just kissed Mattheo. In front of a group of your peers.

Feeling the heat in your cheeks, you averted your eyes while moving back to your spot. But before you took your turn you decided to make a quick exit. You couldn’t play on. You shouldn’t have played in the first place! Some groaned and protested of your choice to leave. But Ella saying she’d spin instead helped ease those around you.

It didn’t entirely matter to you. You were a mixed bag of thoughts and emotions. Escaping the party, which was in fine form, you headed to a bathroom. You need a moment of as much silence you can get so you could sort yourself out. Once in the nearest bathroom, you turned on the tap at the sink. Cupping the cold water you were about to splash your face but stopped, you remembered the make up you wore. Instead you let your hands cool before placing the cool, wet hands on the back and around your neck.

‘I’m an idiot!’ you thought with a groan, as reality sunk in.

After kissing Mattheo you practically ran from the circle of your peers. Who does that? No one had ever done that before. You knew that because there has never been any gossip of someone kissing and running. Until now. You will be the talk of the school. How pathetic you are to kiss the schools heart throb and then run away like a baby.

Then you replayed the kiss in your mind. Mattheo had been gentle, and not forceful. From the way other girls talk about him, he was meant to be some scoundrel that takes what he wants, but does it in a way that makes you want more. He might be a bad boy, but he still was respectful. You touched your lips with your fingers. It was a perfect first kiss. You smiled at that. Only for it to fall knowing you’d had ruined your chance by taking off like a spooked animal.

‘Good job’ you scolded yourself, looking at your reflection. “Just perfect” you huffed.

“You or the kiss?” Came a curious voice behind you, making you turn around and clutch the sink behind you.

Upon turning around you were greeted by the boy on your mind, Mattheo Riddle. He gave you a soft smile placing his hands in his pockets.

“Personally, I think both are perfect” his voice was soft and slightly echoed against the walls.

It took a few minutes before his words sunk in. Mattheo Riddle just said not only was your kiss perfect, so are you. No doubt the look on your face marked with confusion and some horror. He thought you to be perfect. Was he crazy? Possibly. Or was this some big joke? More likely.

“I...I don’t understand...” You said in disbelief. “I’m far from perfect...”

Mattheo gave a soft, genuine smile. “I think you are”. He slowly moves across the bathroom. “I think your caring, smart, thoughtful, attentive, adorably cute...and that was all before your change”.

He stopped before you as he finished his words. Once again you were floored. Mattheo has noticed you all along! He saw you when you thought you were invisible, or rather thought you were invisible. You always thought your friends, some of your house mates and teachers always saw you. You had only became visible when in your first broom riding class in first year when you fell off your broom while a few meters off the ground. Also the numerous times you had been a klutz and fallen down staircases, quiet ungraceful too. Being uncoordinated and smart, every mistake or accident got your peers laughing at you.

“I-I don’t understand” you said softly. “You noticed me before?” You asked, needing an explanation.

Mattheo brought his hand up and moved a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s hard not to when you were the first person I encountered on the train in first year. You were all alone in a carriage. Dressed like a boy with crazy hair” he chuckled.

A light bulb went off in your mind. How had you forgotten that moment? He had asked if he could share the carriage, and you had meekly said yes. You both sat quietly, studying the other. Finally Mattheo took the initiative to talk, though he had been rude. After seeing you jump, he realised you were nervous, maybe a bit scared.

“First time away from home?” He had asked with a sigh.

You nodded your head watching him with big (E/C) eyes.

“It’s like that” he offered with a softer tone of voice. “Your parents were sad to watch you go. But they were just like you, leaving their family to go to Hogwarts”.

Once again you nodded your head, but slowly.

“Look at it like this, you’re on an adventure” he sat back further with a genuine smile. “Every moment away from home you are learning, exploring and making memories, all stories to tell your parents when you see them”.

Mattheo had shown a moment of kindness to you. But looking back over the years there were other times he had been kind to you. From opening a door and letting you enter first, to helping take potion ingredients that are too high on a shelf down for you, to stopping you from falling into the lake a few times when students had tried to push you in. Mattheo Riddle had always noticed you and had been so kind.

“You were always kind to me...” You said slightly dumbfounded.

Mattheo playfully rolled his eyes. “Don’t let everyone hear you say that. I have a bad boy rep to keep intact”.

You laughed at his words. “Sorry, I won’t go broadcasting it”. Mattheo then laughed.

Once you both stopped laughed, you both looked at each other. You took this time to study the boy before you. He had changed so much since first year. He was cute back then but now he was handsome. Much taller now, you had to tilt your head up to look at the male before you. His gorgeous brown eyes shining with humour and delight, a rare sight to be seen, as they usually show coldness and boredom.

“You’ve changed so much since the tomboy with crazy hair” Mattheo chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “shut up” you chuckled playfully pushing him.

Before you could retract your hand, Mattheo reaches out and took your hand in his. Watching you closely he brought your hand to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch at his ministrations. He was being charming, like he would with many other girls, but with you it was real.

“I didn’t mind the tomboy you. Nor did I mind the frumpy, nerdy look you had going” Mattheo stated, thumb caressing the back of your hand that was still in his hold. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t like your new look. I want you to know I have always like you, the you on the inside”.

If your brain was working you would have either melted, knees would have gone week at his confession and actions. He was making it hard not to fall head over heels for the boy before you. Than you asked yourself why he followed you? Why he has said what he has?

“Why? W-why tell me this now...” You thought out loud.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mattheo asked. “I thought I was being apparent, and I thought you were smart” he joked. “(Y/N/N), I like you”.

You were shocked. The school bad boy just admitted to liking you. And possibly liked you for sometime. Any girl would swoon and kiss Mattheo for such a confession. But you weren’t like those girls. You pulled back your hand and moved away from Mattheo, thinking of running from the room. Running was something you liked to do recently.

“Where are you going?” He asked watching you with slight worry but a lot of hilarity. “Going to run away again? Might have to call you Cinderella”.

You stopped and shot Mattheo a dirty look. “I’m not like Cinderella”.

“Yes you are, you ran after we kissed” he stated matter-of-factly walking towards you.

“I-I” you spluttered trying to figure out what to say as you move backwards, Mattheo moving with you.

Feeling your back coming in contact with a wall, you jumped. Mattheo taking no time, placing a hand on either side of your head blocking you in.

“No running away this time Cinderella” he said softly, holding your gaze with his deep brown eyes.

Seeing as you weren’t going to speak, or run, Mattheo moved his left hand to caress your cheek. The contact made you jump, but the soft movement slowly soothing you.

“I serious (Y/N/N). I like you. Past, present and future” his words held sincerity that made your heart flutter. “And I hope I’m part of that future...”

Mattheo’s words left you speechless. You had never heard him speak so much to you, let alone hear how much depth he had in him. The Hogwarts bad boy, Slytherin heart throb was opening up to you. Mattheo Riddle likes you. The ugly duckling, turned beautiful Swan, as stated by your friends.

“Are you going to say anything?” Mattheo asked, fear leaking into his voice. He of all people was the last you’d think to be self conscious.

Snapping out of it, you stood up straighter. “I like you!” You blurted out not thinking. Once realising what you just did you groaned and hung your head.

Mattheo started to laugh, but it wasn’t malicious. It was hearty and warm. As his laugh died down, Mattheo lifted your head up. He looked you in the eyes, nothing but warmth and joy in his eyes.

“You are too cute love” he said softly. “And I’m glad you like me back”.

You smiled threw your embarrassment. Before you could say anything, or try to say anything, Mattheo took the opportunity to capture your lips. Shocked you tensed up, but feeling him lace his fingers in your hair relaxed you. He was soft, tender with you. But then his tongue ran along your bottom lip, causing you to jump a little again.

Pulling back Mattheo looked at you reassuringly. “It’s alright love, no rush”.

Mattheo took you into his arms and held you close. You rest your head against his chest, muttering sweet things in your ear.

Unfortunately that was the moment a few girls walked into the bathroom, and came across you both. You all looked at each other, before you felt your face heat up and you pushed Mattheo away. Not waiting for him or the girls to speak, you took off out of the bathroom. Without skipping a beat, Mattheo took off after you and the girls found themselves giggling at what they walked into, or what they could have walked in on. If Mattheo’s reputation was correct.

Feeling a tad humiliated you didn’t listen to Mattheo and his calls to slow down or stop. You had decided you were done for the night. And hoped tomorrow’s gossip mill isn’t about you.

A/N: as always, happy for feedback :)

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 19

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

Thank you for the wait dear readers! I totally did not re-write this five times and revised the images at least twice. I wanted to get it right. My writing was getting progressively too long and over-detailed so I thought I'd try to compact it a bit more.

Good day and enjoy!

To Zoro’s disappointment, Sanji didn’t want to take part in the Festival of Lights. He had insisted on helping Conis run the food stall for Pumpkin Cafe at the night market, wanting to use it as an opportunity to make more meals with the leftover sky shark meat and other foraged ingredients that they acquired during their journey to Upper Yard so that he could give them away as he didn’t want any to go to waste.

Zoro knew there was more to it than that. His gut feeling told him that the blonde wanted to distance himself from him and Law because he had a lot on his mind and, if the opportunity presents itself, possibly go someplace he shouldn’t be. The swordsman didn’t want to leave his side but Wyper and Conis assured him that they would keep him company so that he and the doctor could go about town and enjoy the Skypiean holiday. In the end, he gives in but only to fetch himself his own paper lantern to offer his prayers to the departed. It’s been a while since he visited Kuina’s grave and he thought that dedicating some time for her is the least he could do. Law joined him to fetch his own, no doubt to offer his prayers to Corazon.

At the strike of midnight, Gan Fall rings the Golden Bell, signaling the start of the main event. Skypieans collectively leave the market to begin their trek to find their preferred spots along the cloud river, either inside or outside town so that they may light and release their lanterns to float down the stream. With their own folded in their pockets, Zoro and Law waited by the city’s main gates where Wyper and Conis eventually met up with them.

Conis

Sorry to keep you waiting! We had a lot of customers. That stir fry Northy made was an absolute hit! Everyone’s calling it the new delicacy. He handed them out for free then gave away the recipe to everyone too! I told him he should write a book–

Zoro

Conis, where is he?

Conis freezes and stares at him in confusion while Wyper increasingly looks positively horrified. 

Wyper

Shit.

Conis

Is he not with you?

Zoro grimaces painfully and Law slaps a hand on his forehead, nearly knocking the cap off his head.

Conis

But he said that he’s going straight to you two after we’re done at the stall! 

Wyper

He clearly lied, Conis.

Zoro

You two promised to keep an eye on him! We were only gone for half an hour!

Conis

I’m so, so sorry!!! There was a lot of fuss from the residents after you left. When the citizens realised how nice he is, they all started asking him for autographs and then next thing we knew, there was a whole line in queue waiting and–and–!

Law raises a hand up to the now rambling woman who is clearly in panic and looks very guilty about the whole thing.

Law

Calm down. Take a deep breath….

Conis stops herself and follows his advice, breathing in and exhaling slowly to compose himself.

Wyper sighs and runs his hand over his face in exasperation.

Wyper

This is my fuckin’ fault. He’s very…persuasive. The guy knows how to charm like nothing else.

Zoro

Nice guarding skills there, Wyper of the God’s Guards.

Wyper

What the hell did you just say?!

Law

Stop it, you two. That's not going to help with the situation. 

Did he say anything before he left? Do you have any idea where he might have gone?

Conis

He said he was feeling overwhelmed with all the residents asking him all sorts of questions and needed to go somewhere quiet for a smoke break. Wyper went with him but…

All eyes bore on the warrior who flinches as his face turns scarlet red. Zoro’s eye twitches impatiently at the man’s hesitancy to speak. He takes a step in front of him to urge him on.

Zoro

Well?

Wyper

We just…talked for a bit but then…one thing led to another and he… erm….

Zoro takes a sharp breath in but remains quiet to give him a chance to explain himself while Law simply rolls his eyes at getting an idea of where the warrior’s story is heading.

Wyper shifts uncomfortably and rubs the back of his neck. He briefly meets Zoro’s intimidating eye but averts his gaze quickly.

Wyper

We…went into the jungle… made out and… and he said that he wanted to make things more exciting so he said that he’ll just go and get…well, you….

Zoro shuts his eye tight and clenches his fists, fighting the urge to grab Wyper by the neck to throw him off a cliff for falling for something as foolish as that. Though he can't say that he fully blames him, having been seduced into doing something to the Pirate King's advantage in the past before.

Conis

Oh… Wyper….

Law

That does sound like something he would do…but why the hell didn’t you go with him?

Wyper

…He may have somehow coerced me to get tied up on a tree…. I had to free myself when I realised he wasn’t coming back.

Conis

Wyper!

Wyper

He’s fuckin’ hot, okay?! Give me a break!

Suddenly, Zoro grabs Wyper by the buckles of his armour and yanks him forcibly nose to nose.

Zoro

No, you had one job and you failed miserably!

Wyper grunts as he gets hoisted off the ground by the enraged swordsman. The crowd around them stops abruptly at the disturbance but the warrior chooses to not fight back. Zoro raises a fist to deliver a blow but halts, his fists shaking from anger.

Wyper

Y–you’re right. I’m… sorry, Zoro. I am. It’s never my intention to get between you two. He said you'd be up for it. I didn’t–

Zoro

That’s not why I’m angry at you! I already know that he fools around. I’m angry because he’s been through so much shit and now he’ll–

Realising that there is now a crowd surrounding them, including some of Wyper’s men, Zoro forces himself to release the warrior and calm himself. He growls and begins stomping off through the gates.

Wyper

Wait, let me help you look for him!

Zoro

No, you’ve done enough. Traffy, let’s go.

Law huffs in annoyance but follows suit, leaving behind an extremely flustered Wyper and a worried Conis at the other side.

—

Zoro trudges through the dark jungle in a rush, hurdling over thick bushes downhill off trail with Law tailing behind him calmly.

Law

Zoro-ya, do you even know where you’re going?

Zoro

No, but I'm never lost with him around. He's definitely this way.

Law

How the hell do you know? Give me a moment to scan. It’ll be much quicker.

Zoro

No. If he’s with who I think he might be, we’d get caught.

Zoro stops in his tracks and holds a hand up, tilting his face left and right slowly. Law follows his instruction and keeps quiet, feeling frustrated that he doesn’t know why the swordsman is suddenly so confident in finding his way around. He tries using his observation haki just as he practiced earlier, but he detects no immediate presence in the area. There’s very little vision over this wilder side of Upper Yard and the only noises he hears are the sound of crickets chirping loudly and the trees’ rustling leaves in the wind.

After a short pause, he feels a subtle sensation in the air but it goes as quickly as it came. It felt like a soft flutter of a heartbeat that waves past them.

Law

Is that–?

Zoro

That’s him.

Zoro continues his way in the general direction where the source of the sensation came from with the doctor tailing behind him, slicing dense foliage out of the way as he walks.

Law

I can’t feel it anymore. I thought you can only pick up the presence if someone is nearby?

Zoro

It’s… hard to explain.

The two take a brief pause in conversation as they slide down particularly slippery rocks, taking the direction where the crow flies to find Sanji as quickly as possible.

Zoro

Before all this…back when we used to fight, he purposely got me lost so I have no choice but to find him. He enjoyed being chased.

Law

Oh?

Zoro

He does this…thing with his haki…. He flexes it but doesn’t hold it. He purposely keeps it weak to avoid unwanted detection and giving his position away too quickly. To the ordinary man and even most haki users, they can’t feel it unless you really focus on it. You felt it just now, right?

Law

It felt like a heartbeat. I would have thought it’s just a butterfly going by. You’re certain it’s him?

Zoro

Yes.

Law

I hope you’re right. Your sense of direction isn’t exactly the best.

Zoro

Shut up. He’s done this to get me to find him many times. If he’s using it right now, he wants to be found.

The sensation eventually leads them to a small river of clouds up on a hill. Zoro takes a moment to study their surroundings when he detects a familiar presence. Positive that it’s the person they have been looking for, he picks up the pace.

When he slices the last layer of thick foliage in front of them, he feels a wave of relief wash over him at seeing the blonde kneeling in front of a cloud stream by a clearing overlooking the White Sea. In front of him is a lit paper lantern.

The swordsman emerges from the treeline and stomps over, stopping a short distance behind Sanji. He opens his mouth to give him a word or two about running off on his own but notices that the blonde has his eyes closed and is in the middle of his prayers. Instead of interrupting, he shuts his jaw and crosses his arms, sighing in defeat.

Sanji

Join me?

Zoro’s eyes soften. He nods silently. When he looks behind him, he notices Law staring at the dark jungle where they had just been. There is a hint of concern on his face.

Zoro

Tra-guy, We’re setting off the lanterns here. Are you joining?

Law furrows his brows as he takes a reluctant step towards the dark.

Zoro

Everything okay?

Law

Y–yeah. I thought I saw…. Never mind.

The doctor turns his heel and joins the two by the river. Zoro and Law settle on both sides of the blonde, retrieve and unfold the paper lanterns from their pockets and light its inner wicks. They close their eyes and begin quiet prayers of their own.

After a moment, they lay their lanterns together to flow down the gentle stream which joins up with the larger body of clouds downhill. As they stand up and watch the three orbs travel, hundreds of lit lanterns begin to follow, flowing past them and lighting up their surroundings brightly. The stream eventually meets the White Sea, where the lanterns scatter from different points of the island.

Soon, the entirety of Skypiea is lit. The lanterns look like twinkling stars moving slowly below them–surreal and hypnotising. As the trio watches, fully tantalised by the view, they feel a gentle change in weather which lifts the lanterns up to the higher skies.

It was a sight to behold. It was as if the island itself was alive, and it felt like they were watched over by the souls they had prayed to. They stand in amazement, unable to tear their gazes away from the spectacular view.

Sanji

Thank you.

The two look at him curiously as he speaks softly. He sniffs once and wipes a small tear from the corner of his eye.

Sanji

I didn’t realise that I needed this. This was a good idea.

Zoro notices his golden hair shine brighter than ever before, lit by the lanterns past his head. When the wind blows the fringe off his face, he sees it. Two wide orbs–big, blue, and full of hope and determination. It looks as though he had suddenly changed like something sparked a fire inside of him. Unable to resist the urge, the swordsman reaches out and entwines their pinkie fingers, only to be surprised when the blonde clasps their hands together.

Seeing that the couple is having an intimate moment, Law turns his heel to leave them be. He considers calling the Heart Pirates to ensure their safety, and to suggest that they look up to the skies to witness the spectacle that is the Festival of Lights.

—

The following morning was brighter than the last. Sanji was up early to use the last of their stocked items to make his signature fried rice–a dish he liked serving on lazy mornings to his siblings whenever Cosette is out on leave. It was a good opportunity to revamp some of the older ingredients they had, and adding what's left of the meat should offer a generous amount of protein for the strenuous day ahead.

While plating the meal, he thinks of Niji and feels his heart sink. A wave of anxiousness washes over him. He considers leaving the swordsman and the doctor to continue on their own to look for him.

He was glad to have the opportunity to spend the night with the swordsman. He has made a decision that this would be the last. Though he might find himself unable to seek out future partners. His heart would be too heavy to do so.

Zoro and Law eventually emerge from their sleeping quarters and sit at the table. They eat in bliss, enjoying Sanji's delicious meal and drinks that never disappoint. Zoro caught up the blonde with the town's festivities that he missed out on, including details of his talks with the other Skypieans who he hadn't seen since the Straw Hats liberated the country from Enel’s rule.

After the swordsman’s story, Law clears his throat.

Law

I received news from the Heart Pirates last night. Nothing too urgent, but I have messages for you both.

The two continue their meals, listening intently.

Law

First, I gave them an update about your encounter with Doflamingo. Least to say, they're very worried about you and they wanted me to pass on the message that they hope that you're well and that your ex is an absolute ass–Penguin’s words.

Sanji

Aww, that's so sweet!

Law

Secondly, Prince Fukaboshi kidnapped Shachi for questioning.

Zoro and Sanji

What?!?

Law

He's back in the sub and is in good health. Though…a little shaken by your ex-fiance.

Zoro

His what now?

Sanji

Shush! Please continue.

Law

They talked it out over drinks after the whole interrogation. It sounds like they’re on good terms now after a brief misunderstanding. It was, according to Bepo, “a lot of fun”.  Prince Fukaboshi had some intriguing stories about you and your siblings, Mr. Prince-ya.

Sanji

O–oh…

Law

Anyway, they've been trying to find you since Saobody. They've been tracking the Polar Tang and the army has finally caught up.

Sanji

And…what did they want with me?

Law

Apparently you have a very protective ally. He wanted himself and his elite army of fish folk to join us in our travels since he heard of your run-in with the Celestial Dragon. They've been keeping the Pacifistas at bay, and even deterred all of Doflamingo's forces from getting too close.

Sanji begins choking at a particularly large piece of meat stuck behind his throat. He punches his chest a couple of times before downing the rest of the contents with his glass of pumpkin juice.

Sanji

Of course they did. That bloody idiot.

You didn't tell him that we ate sky shark, did you? He's kind of a half shark. I never know how merfolk react to that sort of thing.

Law

Uhm…no.

But, Mr. Prince-ya, it really sounds like there's already a war going on. Germa and The Neptune Army against Dressrosa. The Marines have backed off. I think they're hoping that the three kingdoms will wreck each other by themselves.

Sanji

Not quite. They'll do the usual and swoop in at the last second to steal the victory so they come out as heroes in the papers. Then they'll ask for an “alliance”, demanding resources in return for their “aid”. Fuckin’ leaches.

Before we head off, doctor, I'll need to borrow your snail so I can talk to Fukaboshi. I must get my High General involved while we're up here.

Zoro

Another sibling?

Sanji

Ichiji. You’ve met him but Traffy hasn't. Remember the first time I proposed? He was the commander who escorted me. The man can win a war in his sleep. Never play drunken chess with the fucker.

Law

Right.

And…for the last bit of news is for you, Zoro-ya.

Zoro

Hah?

Zoro's food drops sloppily onto his plate from his spoon, his half-full mouth left agape as he stares at Law in surprise.

Law

I uh…got a message from Luffy.

Zoro

Luffy?! Tell me everything!

Law

No, I can't tell you everything!!! Most of it is…for me.

Zoro and Sanji

Gross.

Law

Ack–! You're one to talk!!! Again, couldn't you have kept it down last night?

Sanji

Absoluuuutely not.

Zoro

He's a screamer. He was feeling good.

Sanji

So was your ass, I bet.

Zoro

Surprisingly, yes.

Law

Oh for the love of–I don't want to hear it!

Sanji waves his hand in dismissal then wipes his mouth clean with a cloth. 

Law

Anyway, he's officially calling to get the Straw Hat crew back together.

Zoro's jaw drops once more but in excitement, speechless from the news. He grins widely at that and begins laughing. Sanji smiles slightly at this, feeling positive that he made the right call. It seems as though fate has decided that today is their last day together, and that their paths will all divert apart as he predicted.

Zoro

FUCK YES! Did he say when?

Law

A year from now. He wants to meet up at Fish-Man Island with you lot since there’s a lot of political turmoil currently happening in Sabaody Archipelago. Apparently he's found a reliable chef and a skilled helmsman for the crew. Though…to be honest, he didn't sound too happy with the cook but your navigator gave him an ultimatum. Either you travel with one or she wouldn't rejoin. Something about maintaining food and resources.

Zoro's smile drops and he stares at his food for a moment, thinking. After a brief pause, he looks up, grinning.

Zoro

Whoever it is, since our captain has doubts, I'll get the current cook fired so Curls can replace him.

Law

Huh. Not a bad plan, coming from you, green goblin.

Zoro

Hah?!

Sanji

You'll do no such thing. My kingdom is at war, remember? 

Zoro

Yeah but it won't be a year from now. I'll make sure–

Sanji

MARIMO!

Sanji angrily slams his fist on the wooden table. The two look at him with concern.

Sanji

I cannot, and will not join your crew. We've talked about this! I hate to break it to you, but wars can last a lifetime. I mean, look at us! Two decades of that nonsense!

Zoro

Sure, it's nonsense, but if you let us help you, I'm confident Luffy can help take down Doflamingo. I mean, you've seen what Nami is capable of and she's not even one of our usual fighters!

Sanji

With all due respect, Demon Warlord, but the Straw Hats are only getting together in a year but the war is happening right now and I'm already late for it. This conversation ends here.

—

Near the entrance of Upper Yard's city, the now chainless Sanji clasps Gan Fall's hand in his, placing an eternal compass and a strip of paper with a combination of numbers for his transponder snail.

Sanji

Thanks, old man. For everything. If your people need us for anything, Germa will answer your call. Or you know, if you just want to hang out and get high.

From afar, Conis bellows out angrily, making the two men flinch.

Conis 

I heard that!!

Gan Fall

Bahahaha! And you with Skypiea. You will sorely be missed, my boy. How are your wounds?

Sanji

I'm still a little sore, but nothing I can't handle.

Gan Fall 

Goodness, you heal fast! It must be that doctor working his magic! He's a good one.

And…before I forget. When you see the old girl, three buds should do the trick. You don't want to take too much or you'll be out of action for at least a whole day. Trust me, I've been there. I haven't heard the end of it from Conis yet.

Sanji chuckles as he claps Gan Falls shoulder and gives it a reassuring shake. They turn their heels then walk together, returning to the city's main gates where a crowd of residents have clustered around Zoro and Law to take turns saying their goodbyes. When they get close, the doctor turns to them and bows his head down in greeting.

Law

Gan Fall. Mr. Prince-ya, did you get directions?

Sanji

Partly. No one knows where Nola's old burrow is but I have a reliable lead.

Gan Fall

It sounds as though your Pirate King here knows how to find your Marine friend. You three are always welcome to return whenever you desire! I hope Wyper hasn't left a sour taste in your mouth….

Wyper 

Hey!

Sanji

Hah! Not at all, my friend. In another world, perhaps it would have worked out. He's a good man, Gan Fall. But in this reality, my heart only belongs to one.

Gan Fall

Oh, to be young again! Next time you visit, I'll make sure to relay my share of romances. Believe it or not, I'm also guilty of the tie-up-and-run tactic that you pulled last night. Once on the receiving end! Hah!

Sanji

I look forward to it! It's so mean but it works so well, doesn't it?

Gan Fall

Indeed! The reaction is the best. Did you get a look at his face?

Sanji

No. By the time he realised it, I was already hundreds of leagues away.

Gan Fall

Atta boy!

Wyper’s face flushes deep red as the two kings laugh out loud at the expense of his dignity.

Sanji

Oh, don't be such a baby. We're extremely grateful for all of your help. Here.

Sanji leans over and places a soft kiss on Wyper's cheek. The warrior blinks at him speechlessly, feeling his heart rate increase.

Sanji

Are we good?

Wyper

Y–yeah. Be safe and thanks for the Germa flag. We shall raise it with pride. God's Guards stand with you.

Not far from where they stood, Zoro was bidding farewell to Conis and his other friends.

Conis 

Safe travels, Zoro! I really wish that you could stay longer….

Kamakiri

We'll save some more sake for you next time.

Zoro

I'd like that. Stay out of trouble, you lot.

Aisa

Can you believe Raki still doesn't let me drink?

Raki

And you never will! Here, swordsman. I've brought your ride. 

The dark haired woman steps aside as the crowd behind her follows suit, parting themselves to allow a giant yellow dog to trot towards him. As soon as he sees Zoro, his tail wags in excitement then takes a run, knocking down the swordsman to the ground to give him big slobbery kisses across his body.

Zoro

Argh!! Gross!!! Get him off me!

The residents laugh at the sight and start pointing their fingers at Zoro, knowing full well what the big blonde creature is like. Sanji overhears the commotion and joins in on the mockery. He pulls out the photo camera from his pack and snaps photos of the swordsman and the large creature in action.

Raki

Holy!!! No! Bad dog! You can say hi but no licking!

Holy…down!

At that Holy immediately sits down, pinning the swordsman’s lower body under his large furry bum.

Zoro

Raki!!!

Raki

AAH! I made it worse!!!

—

After bidding everyone their goodbyes (and with Zoro having fresh new clothes), the trio proceed on foot westward with Holy following them behind. Wyper's scouts had reported that Nola was last seen napping on one of her usual spots that way. They would have ridden the dog sooner but Law wanted to take his time to soak in everything that Skypiea had to offer on the home stretch.

Sanji

So, doctor? Excited to see Corazon?

Law

More than anything.