#warding away bad vibes

[dojunie]

Dearest Dojunie,

Happy New Year. I apologise for not sending an ask wishing you so sooner. The beginning of 2024 is a little complicated for me. With desiring change and whatnot, but also fearing the possible negative outcomes.

Do you have any 2024 resolutions? Any goals or such? Big or small.

I wanted to send asks more often to show you that I do think of you despite you not being an active part of my life. I think that's quite silly to think about - the influence you have made to my brain. But I get so busy and tired, the weeks are rushing past me and I can't keep up.

Take care of yourself. Hydration, nutrition, good rest. All that you need to maintain your health. Remember that your fiction will leave a mark on people, and that even after a few years people will have good memories of a masterfully written fanfic.

Your anonymous friend,

Book Anon

the influence thing goes both ways; i've been on the internet as a fandom creator for quite a while now (starting in 2014.... for 5sos... i am not taking questions at this time...) and i dont think ive ever gotten feedback and consistent messages like i have from this account, specifically you and the genuine interest you send along with your asks

like i think about you and these asks and the interactions i have on here ALL THE TIME. when im writing, when im not writing, when im out and about and remember that there's a person on the internet who sends me lovely little messages, it really does make this all worth it??? the way you think and the way you write and the way you formulate your thoughts... its so impressive to me (and i feel so happy because you choose to spend time crafting these messages for ME... i write my lil stories and in return i get these actuall connections :( you're so cool)

one of my resolutions is to give myself more grace when it comes to writing... i used to be able to just sit and write all day because i was in the middle of jobs but now that things are getting more serious for me i dont have the time or-- and this was a surprise-- the energy to sit down and write even when i so desperately want to, because i love this account more than anything

but its messages like these that remind me that you get it. you all get it. and i cant understate how much it keeps me going. logging in to see all the messages and the reactions and such, messages like YOURS... i hope you also know that you're leaving your mark on me

sending hugs and well wishes your way, book anon. you better stay hydrated too!!!!!!!!!!! i'm serious 🫵

[daisyachain]

The nature of time is that (culturally) Christian Euro/Anglo colonial consumers (hereafter white ‘people’) fetishize the idea of being ‘close to nature’ or ‘primitive’ or ‘savage’ and latch on to the idea that there are groups of people in the world who are somehow bestial or who have some kind of special powers from holding animist beliefs/beliefs that acknowledge the body as opposed to the Christian belief that the body is a kind of useless appendage to a person. We see this across decades from the 19thC to today in the racist fetishization of indigenous people across the globe, particularly residents of the Americas, Australasia, and southern/eastern Africa.

White consumers use a warped conception of other cultures to live out the fantasies that the Christian soul/body stuff engenders. You keep getting told that your emotions and physical sensations are the devil’s work? You want to get in touch with those physical sensations, but you don’t want it to interfere with your worldview? Simply project them on to a convenient group of people with slightly different conventions from you. Imagine how cool it would be to be 100% physical sensation (especially those pesky violent and/or sexual urges) and no mental burden, then unleash that in a way that causes millions of deaths worldwide via the dehumanization of entire nations of people just trying to live their lives. White consumers love a Proud Warrior Race Guy.

Flash forward to the 2010s, it’s generally considered impolite to spread the same propaganda that justified the genocide and dispossession of many different groups of people. However white culture hasn’t changed that much and normal human activities still need to be explained away to maintain the veneer of white intellectualism that has been used to justify white violence for years and years. You can’t just stomp around and clap your hands and dance badly, you’ve got to project it somewhere else.

But wait! There’s a community of people considered ‘tribal’ and ‘savage’, considered violent and bestial, who were never colonized! It’s…the Norse. Fetishizing early medieval North Sea raiders can’t be cultural appropriation, see, they’re white! It’s not offensive to replace an entire culture with white (male) ideas of what’s cool if that culture is totally unassociated with colonizer stereotypes and is in fact a culture of colonizers!

And that’s my theory on why there are so many Norse-inspired folk bands/video games/tv shows/memes/literally anything in the 2010s. VSaga not counted because that manga has been running since 2003 and is actually well-researched and comes out of a culture with a similar but distinct tradition of racism. The Euro storytelling tendencies of needing some kind of violent avatar have taken on ye anciente Norseman now that people care a little bit about the gallons of blood used to sketch other ethnic stereotypes. Done and dusted. Except the other side is that the fetishization of early medieval Norse culture is literally just white supremacist 101 and a lot of artists don’t step around that nearly as carefully as they should

[inkykeiji]

i will never ever ever ever ever EVER be over dabi’s laugh <3333333333333

[flowersandbigteeth]

I Have an idea for a character one shot (I'd just irk to fuck a centipede monster but same thing)

You get lost in the desert come across a cave, take a nap in the cave but when you wake up you’re trapped by a large centipede man who’s staring down at you like you’re a snack.

Preferably nsfw and Fem reader, also I’m sorry if you’re not taking requests I’m new to your blog

I really like this idea ^_^, It actually inspired a longer story I'm working on about a sarantopodarousacentaur. But for now, we have this.

sarantopodarousacentaur/half-centipede half-human (Mitas) x F reader

Word Count: 3K

Warning: nsfw, dubcon half-centipede smut, kidnapping, descriptions of violence, desert vibes

“Have you seen a witch run this way, miss?” a lanky member of the city guard asked. 

You squinted in the desert sun as it reflected off his shiny gold armor. 

“A witch?” you asked, leaning on your bow. “Nope, can’t say I have.” 

He gave you a nod, glancing at your horse, Bina, who had her head in a bucket of water you’d drawn from the oasis. 

“Pretty horse,” he said, tipping his hat. “Better stay safe tonight. There’s a witch on the loose. Murdered one of the merchants in town with black magic. Could be dangerous.” 

“Sure thing,” you said, giving him a little salute as he walked away. 

“She’s not here!” you heard him yell at his captain over your shoulder. “Just a huntress watering her horse.” 

“She’s the bloody witch, you mouth-breathing dolt!” his captain shouted. “After her!”

Time to go! 

You hurried to empty the bucket and climbed on Bina’s back, kicking her lightly to make your escape. Pulling your goggles over your eyes, you turned into the wind, heading towards the mountains where you might be able to hide. You weren’t any witch, as the guard thought. You’d killed the merchant with poison before you’d stolen all his gold. It only appeared to be magic to the idiotic guard, who apparently had no idea what poisoning looked like. He’d bled out of every orifice, but his death was faster than he deserved. 

You could hear the hoofbeats of their horses on your tail. The guards were wearing heavy armor, however, and carrying swords. You were much faster. You twisted in your saddle and shot off a few arrows to ward them off. 

“We’re under heavy fire!” one of the guards shouted, and you snorted.

A few odd arrows were hardly heavy fire. You could have killed them if you’d wanted, but you aimed at their obnoxiously shiny chests, and your arrows only dented the metal. 

You often stole, but you didn’t often kill. The merchant had it coming, though. When he took you back to his home, thinking he’d seduced you, you’d found a house full of half-starved slaves. Slavery was illegal in Dechete, but he’d bragged to you about how he’d paid off the city magistrate to claim he’d adopted all the teens. So, annoyed that he was both a lech and a slaver, you hadn’t felt the least bad about dropping a few drops of Bloodweed essence in his drink. You let the teenagers take what they liked of his possessions and horses, pointing them towards the coast before you broke into his safe and pocketed the gold coins he kept there. 

No one would have noticed for a few days if one of the newer slaves wasn’t a snitch and called the guard, hoping to gain a favor from the magistrate. He got an arrow to the chest for his opportunism. Probably didn’t kill him, but the punctured lung would keep his mouth shut while the others got away. 

Which is why you were galloping through the desert, hoping to lose the city guard in the rising sandstorm. It was better they chase you than newly freed youths. 

“Sorry, Bina,” you muttered, pushing her faster into the fading light. “I owe you as many apples as you can eat when we make it across the mountain.” 

Beyond the mountains were the green lands of the Thundering Redwoods and safety. With all the gold you’d stolen, you could buy some animals and a little house in the woods. You’d never have to see this dismal desert again. 

“Fall back! The storm’ll take ‘er!” you heard the guard shout as the wind whipped around you, shooting particles against your face like liquid sandpaper. If you could have breathed a sigh of relief, you would have. Instead, you focused on keeping Bina running straight so you didn’t end up lost. 

“You’re a good girl, Bina,” you murmured, though you doubted she could hear you over the whistling wind. 

The rocks of the mountains came on you so quickly, you would have driven her straight into a stone wall if she didn’t have better sense. She made a sharp 90-degree turn at the last moment and carried you into a canyon. The wind didn’t reach here, and you pulled off your goggles, looking around at the high cliffs stretching up above you. 

“You’re worth your weight in gold,” you cheered, rubbing Bina’s neck. 

She gave you a pleased whinny, happy to be safe from the irritating sand. Hopping off her back, you wandered through the winding canyon, hoping it would take you straight through to the other side of the range. Night fell, and you still hadn’t come upon the opposite end, so, lighting a torch, you looked for a cave where you might get some rest before starting off again in the morning. 

“This look all right?” you asked Bina, holding your torch into a hole in the canyon wall only a bit larger than her. 

She nuzzled your hair, and you supposed that was her approval. Inside the opening, the cave opened to a large hall with a high ceiling you couldn’t see with your weak light. The sound of trickling water echoed off the cold stone walls, and after making your way quietly through the passage, you found a spring pumping, clear icy water into a small stream that went deeper into the cave. 

“I think you chose correct,” you said, smiling at your horse while you pulled your saddle and her bridle off so she could have a nice drink and a rest. 

You washed the layer of dirt off your face before you plopped down on the floor to get comfortable. Pulling an apple, you’d nicked from your bag, you gave it to Bina as she’d done most of the work. You could find something to eat in the morning. 

“Sleep tight, Bina,” you muttered, exhausted. 

Curling into a ball on the hard floor, you quickly fell asleep. 

You woke looking at the floor…but it was the ceiling…No. You were upside down. You blinked, peering in the low light at a shadowy creature silhouetted by the sun creeping in through the mouth of the cave. Your eyes frantically searched for Bina, but you found her safe and sound, resting in a bed of hay and eating a salad of apples, carrots, and melon from a crudely shaped clay bowl. Where did that-?

“Hello, little human,” the creature hissed. 

As your eyes adjusted to the light, they popped open, realizing what was holding you aloft by your ankle. 

“Sarantopodarousacentaur!” you gasped at the half-man, half-centipede smiling at you. 

His body was long, and the segmented carapace looked like polished mahogany. Shiny gold legs tapped the stone floor as if he were excited. He righted you, lifting you so you were eye to eye. His face was rather handsome despite his mouth appearing far wider than a normal human. Messy black hair fell around his jaw, and his skin was as gold as the desert sand. Two odd, blood-red teeth poked past his lips, and you puzzled at what they could be until he stretched his maw in an eerie smile, and you found they were the tips of two mandibles that rested in his cheeks. He flexed them at you as if he were hungry. 

“Um…hello…” you said, unsure what to say to a legendary monster. 

Sarantopodarousacentaurs were a myth, a story the desert folk told to keep their children from wandering at night. Yet, here was in front of you, grinning like a demon. He set you on the ground and patted your head. 

“You are a juicy little morsel,” he beamed, folding his muscled body to your height. “The perfect size to be my mate!” 

You swallowed hard and waved your hands at him, stepping back. 

“Oh no, I’m no…er…mate,” you said. “I’m just passing through. Bina and I will be on our way. Didn’t mean to disturb you!” 

You inched towards the bow you’d left on the ground while sleeping. His body curled around you in one smooth movement, pinching legs trapping you in a golden cage. A finger tipped your chin up to meet his red eyes. 

“You will be my mate,” he said. “But don’t be frightened.” 

He waved a hand at Bina, who happily munched on her bowl of treats, not the least afraid of the monster. 

“I will take good care of you and your Bina,” he said. 

His black-clawed fingers tore at the filthy, sandy clothes you wore, slicing them to ribbons as he unwrapped you like a treat. Lifting one of your legs, he examined it closely. 

“You look delicious,” he murmured as his eyes took stock of your body. 

You wracked your brain, trying to remember if centipedes killed their mates, but you couldn’t think clearly under his careful inspection. 

“Don’t you think we should get to know one another…before you…do…whatever…?” you asked. 

Please don’t eat me. 

He smiled again, his face so close to yours that his mandibles brushed your cheek. 

“I go by Mitas,” he said while he sniffed your hair. 

“I’m…ah…(Y/N),” you said, shivering. 

The cave was cold now that you were naked, and Mitas frowned. 

“You will be warm in my nest,” he assured you, tapping legs carrying him at a dizzying speed deeper into the cave. 

You gasped at what must have been the creature’s bedroom. On one side of the room, jewel-toned blankets, furs, and pillows formed a large, wide bowl where he slept. Your mouth went dry as you took in the neatly piled bones and skulls of his victims. Some were split to make bowls for food, drinks, and pigments, while some were carved with intricate designs and hung on the walls like art. 

He plopped you in his nest and coiled around you like a snake, his stiff legs holding you in place. His odd mandibles bloomed, pinching your cheek gently. 

He’s definitely going to eat me, you thought. His heavy hands moved all over your body, tracing your curves as if he were getting to know them.

“Normally I devour little mouthfulls like you,” he hummed, tucking his nose behind your ear and sniffing you. “But you’re too pretty to be a meal.” 

He sighed. 

“I’m lonely,” he pouted. “I want a proper mate.” 

“Yes but…” you started to say. 

“No buts,” he hissed. “The goddess led you to me. You walked right into my den. She must have meant for you to be mine.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you argued. 

“You’re either a meal or my mate,” he reasoned. “Which would you rather? It’d be a pity to eat you, but I’m sure you’re scrumptious!” 

Posed with those options, you chose the one that did not result in your immediate demise. 

“M-m-mate,” you squeaked. 

If only you had your bow nearby! The sarantopodarousacentaur was strong, but not invincible. A shot to the heart would kill anyone. 

“We ought to kiss,” he decided. 

“You think?” you asked. 

He nodded and smiled his eerily wide smile. 

“That’s what mated pairs do, no?” he replied. 

At that you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for the worst. What you felt, however, was rather nice. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed yours. With your eyes closed, you took more notice of the scent of his nest. He didn’t smell bad, more like sandalwood and moss. Without thinking you leaned in to him, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

The muscles were firm and sculpted. Curious, your fingers drifted down to his abs as he tentatively brushed his tongue against your bottom lip. Your lips parted on their own and you were presented with his flavor. Surprisingly he tasted like mint and honey. 

You sighed your appreciation as his fingers gently moved along your waist, exploring your curves. Your body betrayed any lingering sense of caution sparkling under his touch. It’d been a long time since you’d been with a man. As a desert scavenger, you were more likely to rob one than take him to bed. 

You heard a lusty moan build in your throat and he pulled you closer, the sharp points of his legs scraping your skin in a not unpleasant way. His lips set off on an exploration of your body, drifting to your cheeks, then neck, until he was curiously nibbling at your breasts. 

There was no holding in your gasps when he pulled a nipple past his lips and ran his tongue over it. The pointy mandibles tucked in his cheeks nipped at the tender skin making you shudder in pleasure, not pain. 

He hummed, pleased that you were obviously enjoying his investigation. Thick fingers slid down your stomach to dip themselves into your wetness. 

“What’s this?” he murmured as his roving fingers found your sensitive spot. 

Inquisitive sanguine eyes met yours. 

“It’s called a clit,” you explained in halting breaths. 

He chuckled lightly as he felt your body stiffen while he circled it. 

“You like that,” he observed and you gave him a tight nod punctuated by a loud moan. 

He made an odd chattering noise that sounded rather victorious before returning to your breasts, to lick your nipples, one after the other. He had your head all fucked up. Pleasure rolled over you like a unstoppable wave, clouding any thoughts of escape with ones of surrender. 

Feeling you relax into his arms, he pushed you down into the soft pile of blankets and pillows beneath you. Opening your eyes you found him looming over you, considering his strategy. 

As you watched a portion of the yolk of carapace that wrapped around his hips parted and what must have been his cock emerged. It wasn’t like a man’s at all, instead the tip was slightly curved and the shaft lined with knobs arranged in a spiral. You whimpered at it’s size, unsure if it would even fit inside you. 

“Oh,” you mewled and he smiled down at you, his mandibles stretching wide, obviously proud of what he had to offer. 

“I like your little, squishy legs,” he purred opening them with ease and brushing his member against the soft skin of your thighs. 

Precum mixed with your own fluids that had slid down your leg. Curious, he dipped his head and you felt his long tongue explore your channel, making you squeal. No one had ever been quite so close before. At first, you were frightened, but as he worked his tongue inside you, you couldn’t deny the pleasure he sent shooting up your spine. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your lashes fluttered. Panting your hands found his shaggy hair on their own and held him in place. 

You heard a rumbling grow echo through the chamber, coming from his chest. He stopped for a moment to glance up at you. 

“No, don’t stop,” you demanded despite yourself and he grinned at you, lowering his head again. 

His efforts moved to your clit, his tongue twirling around it like some tentacle. His teasing pushed you up and up like a drifting balloon until you popped, screeching as you came. Pleased with himself, he loomed over you, licking his lips with the agile appendage. 

“Now you’re mine,” he declared, his hips snapping forward and his cock plunging in to your soaking core. 

Your body was his to take as his cock stretched you. His shaft was stiff and smooth, the covering feeling more like smooth bone than velvety flesh. 

"Ahhhh!" you groaned as he drove into you. 

His claws fingers held you in place, gripping your neck and all you could do was gaze up at him. His eyes had shifted from a deep garnet to cherry red. 

"Minnnnne," he muttered in a labored hiss. 

His hips slammed into yours mercilessly, rutting you like a beast. You started to lose yourself in bliss, his member stroking the places inside of you that felt the best. 

Your eyelashes fluttered closed and the only thing that passed your lips was incoherent babble. 

"Touch yourself, mate," he ordered, eyes eating up your vulnerable body and you obeyed. 

Your narrow fingers desperately circled your clit, chasing your end and plucked at a nipple. His gaze on you was lecherous, enjoying your neediness. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore, brushing your hand away and folding his large body in half so that he could nibble the pert nipples you'd tugged to a point. 

His other hand found your clit and as he drove into you he pinched and stroked your little bundle of nerves until you were sobbing. Pleasure detonated in your core like a bomb and your back arched in the soft linens as you screamed his name. 

You heard him chuckle, devolving into animal grunts as he took his pleasure. His glowing eyes narrowed and you could see the rapture growing in them. They were solely focused on you when he emptied himself inside. 

You both laid there panting, his body curved over you like a cave, but not pressing his weight on you. 

"Little mate," he purred,  fingers stroking your cheek. "You are so lovely." 

Like a gentleman, not a monster, he twisted around offering you a sip of water from a bone bowl. You were too thirsty and spent to complain, so you drank eagerly. 

He hummed at you in satisfaction. It seemed providing for you pleased him. Your head was dotted in his happy kisses. 

"When we are done resting we'll go pick fruit," he said, snuggling up next you and trapping you in a cage of his legs. "I won't let my scrap go hungry."  

"Where?" you murmured. "We're in the middle of the desert." 

His chuckle rolled over you like a heavy grumble of thunder, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine. 

"There's an oasis where I cultivate plants," he explained, yawning. "Only I know about it. Very secret, but I'll share it with my mate. Sleep now, little one." 

Escape briefly crossed your mind, but to be honest, you'd never been so satisfied carnally before and you were rethinking that plan. Your body was glowing and your hormones were slowly binding you to the myth made flesh dozing beside you. Maybe escape could wait until after a nap and some fruit salad. So you pressed your head into his chest and maneuvered his thick arm over you like a blanket, which earned you a satisfied hum from Mitas, and drifted into sleep. 

[luvtak]

sandcastles, lfx x reader

✧ genre/ tw f2l <3!! sugary sweet fluff, angsty confessions, a couple pet names, a very sweet kiss, and felix and mc being unbearably down bad for each other, unedited <3

✧ w/c 2586

✧ a/n okay so i am writing this at 2 am after basically throwing this up, I've had this idea in my head for a couple days and finally had time to execute it, I am a sucker for f2l!felix and I hope you enjoy this very sweet confession, as well as the fun summery vibes I hoped to embrace the story in, happy reading! mwah <3!!

The first time you saw him you thought he was a daydream, sun bright and shiny–a made up boy for a lazy sunday afternoon. He came with golden hour, everything orange and yellow and the floral july smell was creeping around you. At twelve, you’d never seen a boy so sure of himself or so kind. Usually, the boys at school were listlessly mean or energetically cruel–ever patient in their mission to bother you. But here was Felix, funny and sweet and asking to be your friend. 

The summer passed in oceanfront days and popsicle covered nights, pop songs on the radio as you talked from the backseat. Goofy and glamorous months spent together as you awaited Fall. You remember those days like the lines of your palm, linen sheets wrapped around your bodies as you told scary stories and held each other to ward off nightmares. Some days, going to bed with the sun still high in the sky–naps on the beach with his head on your tummy. 

Felix’s sister’s hands in yours while you played ring around the rosie, giggles loud when you let go. The little girl’s voices as they yelled they all fall down! And Felix's own little voice asking if you were all okay, always worried about skinned knees and chipped nail polish. Childhood flashed with bandaid kisses and sandy shoes, freckled skin and ocean covered giggles. 

You’d never forget when you realized he was beautiful–stepping out of the ocean like Aphrodite herself, a boy born from sunshine and seafoam. His wide eyes were crinkled with sun, surely adding more stars to his golden skin, and he was smiling. Smiling at you of all things, bright and incandescent Felix grinning at you like the happiest man on earth. 

You think of that boy now as he sits next to you, watching the movie with an almost exaggerated delight. Taking in the action and the humor like someone just shown technicolor after a life of black and white. He’s grown up so much, grown up and away from you as you’ve gotten older. Those summer nights are just an origin story for who he is now, a big bright star like you always knew him to be. 

As his very first fan, you always saw in him this man he could become, but sometimes under the cover of midnight you selfishly wished you could have kept him to yourself. He was always just yours; until he wasn’t… Always your north star, leading you on your journey since you were just a little thing, and now he’s that to thousands of people–none of them knowing he was yours first. 

If you told him this he’d giggle up a storm and tell you he was still yours, but he wasn’t, not really… not in the way you wanted him to be. How could you tell him you loved him when in an instant he became bigger than you or any childhood wish. 

“Silly, why aren’t you watching the movie? It’s the best part!” eyes gleaming and mouth pouty, Felix looks so pretty in the tv light, “I know we’ve seen this one like a billion times, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pay attention.” He huffs, undeniably pretending to be annoyed with you. He can’t really, couldn’t even if he wanted to. You’re just so dear to him, one half of his heart, and he could never attribute any negative feeling to you, even if you deserved it. 

When he came home and saw you, more grown up and more beautiful than his phone screen allowed, he couldn’t believe he ever left you. He was so excited to watch your movie together, and while Ponyo had lost the astonishment of childhood, it still held its charm. The film was the background of so many childhood memories–putting it on after midnight nightmares or days spent sick in bed; children versions of you wrapped up and watching every sleepover. 

It was silly, he had you there right next to him, but he still missed you until the movie was on, and here you were not watching it. 

“Sorry, Lix, I just can’t believe you’re actually here.” your voice trembles a little, hiding the true emotions and fear that he’ll find you out. He would never stop being your friend just because you had a little crush on him, could never abandon you for something so little as a flutter in your tummy. But this wasn’t just a crush or a flutter, this was a stampede. You’d been in love with him for so long now, kept it hidden away in teenage diaries and grown up journals. A secret between you and the moon. You could never be sure how he’d take it, that for years now you’d been cowardly and afraid of him, a boy so brave he conquered his dreams. 

“Well, believe it baby! And watch the movie… or else…” He said it in a funny voice, and even though you knew he meant well, the pet name pushed an ugly feeling in your gut. 

Quietly and painfully you looked back to the screen, avoiding the way you can feel his body breathe next to you. For so long you missed this, the knowledge that your best friend was next to you, but now you think he should go home. Back to Seoul where he doesn’t hurt you by being him, sunshiney and starlit him. “Hey, seriously, are you okay? Where’d you go?” Felix is genuinely worried now, a sinister feeling arising in his chest that you’re not okay, and that it’s because of him. 

Sure, he’s been gone a lot the last couple of years, but he never forgot the way your eyes got misty before you cried. He grew up alongside you, nursed bloody knuckles and broken hearts and he could feel when you were sad–knew like the back of his hand when you were devastated and hiding it, but was this just because you missed him? 

“I’m fine, star boy, I just always get a little sad when I watch Ponyo. You remember don’t you? The way I would cry and cry when Sasuke promises to love and take care of her?” you mutter, softly without any conviction, and while the boy knows this to be true, he can’t help but notice your fidgety hands and the way you won’t look at him. 

You’re so worried, crushed beyond belief that one night home and he’ll figure you out. You could never keep a secret from him, running to tell him as soon as someone told you a whisper of hidden truth. Since you were twelve you told him all your innerworkings and private feelings, all but this one. It was easy when he was gone, easy to train your voice to sound happy over the phone, but you couldn’t hide anything with his eyes so close to you. 

Shoulder to shoulder you sat on the sofa you grew up on, right in this position with this beautiful boy. Watching this movie at 12 and 15, holding hands to ward against scary movie monsters. You couldn’t keep this secret here. 

“You’re a shitty liar, Y/n, is it some boy? Do I have to defend your honor?” it was so silly to him, you were so silly. How could he think any other boy mattered to you but him? Him with his golden hair and bright eyes, star studded cheeks smiling at you in the sunshine. 

You would never forgive yourself for that day on the beach. The day he became more than Felix, your best friend. You used to gag when your parents teased you about him, winced when one of your girls would say you looked cute together, and then all it took was the sun hitting him just right. 

You would never forgive yourself for this night either, you had to tell him. Had to make sure he knew it didn’t matter if he couldn’t feel the same. Who were you other than his friend? He was an angel and you were just someone he knew before he ascended. 

“Yeah, I guess. Some boy who I just can’t get out of my head.” 

“Oh, my silly sweetheart, is he devastatingly handsome.” he was giggling, the way he always did when you brought up boys to him, like it was ridiculous you would think a boy was cute. 

“I think so, he’s handsome and sweet, and I’ve never known anyone like him.” 

“This sounds intense, Y/nie, you must really like him…” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” 

You can’t help but notice his body language shifting, turning inward and hesitant. His voice got quieter too, shifting back into his normal voice. You wonder if you transferred some of your fear to him, then dismiss the thought–your Felix has always been brave. 

The movie still plays, little kid voices filling the otherwise silent room. The picture can be seen in his eyes, lighting the dark with bright oranges and blues. They're looking at you, and some tiny part of you can tell he seems sad. That piece of you that always knows how he’s feeling; attuned even when he’s in South Korea and you feel with all parts of you that you need to send a message to cheer him up. 

You feel that now, and reach out to take his hand, calloused and warm in yours. 

You stay like that for a while, finishing the film hand in hand like you did when you were both still small. Until finally, he asks so quietly you can barely hear him, 

“Do you like him more than me?” 

Shocked, you can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, which stuns Felix enough to pull his hand from yours–rubbing with his other hand where yours touched. He’s hurting, and you’re laughing at him, and this is enough to pull all of his bravery into you. Deep breathe in and out until you are sure every ounce of courage he’s ever had is running through your veins. You need to tell him, and even if he never speaks to you again, it's better than if he never knew he spins your whole world around. 

“Oh my god, Felix, it is you.” it comes out in a breath, faster than you’ve ever said anything and more relieving than any sentence you’ve rattled out before. The tears you’ve been fighting off all night come tumbling down, cascading over your cheeks with reckless abandon into your shaky hands. He’s silent for so long, barely even moving from his place next to you. The only indication he’s still hear the shaky breaths he’s releasing, and still you don’t look at him.

You’re waiting for him to leave, to walk out the door and go home, waiting for him to walk out of your life and back into his place in the sky, when finally you feel his hand on your wrist. His hold is so delicate, nervous as he moves your hands from your face and can finally see your eyes. Eyes sad and exhausted and so familiar to him, even through the tears their lovely–a reminder of home and unconditional love, and growing up. He can’t believe you would like him, Him with all his idiosyncrasies and softheartedness, you were so beautiful and so strong and you liked him. Thought he was handsome and sweet, you’d never known anyone like him… 

How long could this have been going on, how could he have been living never knowing you felt this way? Never knowing he felt it too, not just butterflies in his belly, but falcons, wings so strong and so big they started hurricanes. 

He looked at you like he always did, like you were the most important thing in the room. Eyes on yours and a smile of disbelief rising on his face. Slowly, without any reservations he brought his forehead to yours, looking down at you in all your snotty glory and lifting a hand to swipe at the falling tears. His voice is a whisper, deep and familiar, the same voice he used to tell stories and secrets, 

“It’s me? You promise?” 

“It’s always been you, Felix, how could it be anyone else?” 

He shudders, the hand sitting atop your cheek bone falling to your neck before he moves closer, settling his lips next to yours. Eyes lifting in a silent question, is this okay? With a nod and a close of your eyes he’s leaning in, moving to kiss you with all the desperation the moment requires. His tongue wiping up all the fallen tears as his lips moved with yours–when you were children he always kissed your wounds better, sweet pecks over bandaids and foreheads, and here he was now fixing up a broken heart–putting it back together. 

When he comes back up for air his eyes settle over your frame, flushed and hair messy from his hands, and he smiles. He’s loved you since he was a boy, since you asked to build that sand castle, 12 years old and braver than anyone he’s ever known. He’s loved you through teenage tantrums and silly crushes, it’s always been you. 

“We’ve been so silly, sweetheart.” he finally gets out, laughing at the impossibility of it all. The one secret you kept from each other being the same. Like always, exactly on the same page–telling the same story over and over again until you met in the middle. “When did you know? When did you know you loved me?” 

He’s so happy, you can feel it in the way he’s holding you, in the way his hands haven’t left your skin since they arrived. You can’t believe it, this beautiful boy is holding you. 

“That day you told me you were gonna audition… you came from the sea smiling and covered in sunshine, and I saw you for the first time–larger than life, my dream.” 

His eyes closed, and then he laughed. A great big wonderful laugh that took him away from you, falling onto his back with happy tears streaming. It was such a lovely sound you couldn’t help but join in, giggling with him even if you didn’t know why. 

When he finally speaks again his voice is still twinged with laughter, breathless and happy when he says, “You were so late” pausing to laugh, “I loved you since we were 12, you were covered in sand and I was in love.” 

You move to him quickly, settling your body on top of his as gently as you could manage, and you take in his happy face. This is what he looks like in love, not any different than he’s ever looked, but the shock of it–the fact that it’s you who he loves and is loved in return makes you want to cry again. 

This is where home is, here in his arms with your movie playing, smiling at each other in awe. There's so many moments you can share with him now, moments you shared with the moon and shooting stars, things you never thought you could tell him. Days and weeks holding a secret that he carried too. How silly you’ve both been, to deny what everyone has told you since you were children–two humans made for each other, sculpted out of the same sand. Lives entwined since that day on the beach when you asked him to build a sandcastle, how funny looking back, that you never did.

© LUVTAK 2024

[obxone]

Unlikely Pairing

unedited. ~4.3k words.

(This is a scene from Season 3. It is purely inserting the reader into the scenes at Singh's mansion with some added dialogue and scene descriptions/reader's thoughts. It is giving a reunited ex-lovers/close proximity in the face of danger vibe. I used a good chunk of dialogue from OBX so definitely not just my writing. There will be a part two...I've already started it. Enjoy!)

Warning: long + a tinge of smut

A knock on the door startles you from your relaxed position on the bed. The bed itself is not bad for a kidnapper’s bed. It is comfortable and soft. After days of sleeping on woven mats, it feels nice to be on something soft again. The door swings open to a woman in a maid outfit, a tight smile on her face. “He’s ready.”

“Who?” You ask, righting yourself on your feet and smoothing out the dress you had found in the armoire.

She inclines her head, gesturing to the door, “Come.”

You follow her out into the hallway and down to the first floor. She again gestures to another doorway, asking for you to go inside the room. You frown but do as she asks. The room appeared empty as you step inside, looking around for whoever ‘he’ is. You pause at the sight of a man with a buzzed haircut pouring himself a drink.

“Um, excuse me?”

The man turns and your lips part, all the air leaves your lungs and your chest clenches at the sight of Rafe. Neither of you says a word for a moment, the shock is clear on both of your faces. The silence settles in as you take him in. He looks good, healthy still, but his suit seems a size too big. And gone are those dirty blond locks that were always perfectly in place and instead a freshly shaved buzz cut.

“No,” you whisper, taking a step back, hands reaching back to brace yourself against the wall the more steps you take from him. “What are you doing here? Sarah tried to tell us this would be Ward and you behind this bullshit.”

Your words seem to snap him out of his daze as he moves forward, reaching a hand out toward you. “How are you here? What are you even talking about? Are the pogues trying to weasel in on my deal?” His hand curls into his chest when you lean away from him. “Is that what’s going on?”

“Your deal?” You glare at him. “What deal?”

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know,” a man with a thick accent speaks from the adjoining room. Both of your heads snap around to see him looking out the window, his back to you both. He turns with a soft chuckle to you see both as he scratches his beard. He dripped money and danger.

“Who are you?” Rafe asks and you do not miss the way he shifts to angle his body between you and the strange man.

“Me?” He points to himself as he draws closer. “My name is Carlos Singh.” He smiles before pointing at Rafe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron.”

You glare at Rafe again, but he ignores you, continuing to watch Singh instead.

“And Ms. yln, I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. But please, come.” He gestures behind him. “Sit down.”

You stare at him, not moving an inch and neither does Rafe.

“Come now, I don’t bite.” He holds out his hand towards you both as he takes a step or two back into the room before turning and going.

Rafe turns to you, his eyebrows pulled together as his gaze runs the length of you. No doubt that he notices the expensive dress you wear when he frowns at the sight of it. The silk material clings to you in exactly the right places, but it is definitely not something you would pick yourself and he knows it.

You do not say a word, instead stepping around your ex and entering the room. Rafe reaches for you, but you pull your arm out of his reach. You could handle this without him, you had been without him for what felt like months now.

“Rough tactics?” Rafe asks, those blue eyes that haunt your dreams running the length of you again when you sit down. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing to harm her,” Singh smirks, looking at you before turning to Rafe.

“And what about me?”

“Yes, Mr. Cameron, false pretenses,” Carlos answers, pouring his own drink. “But the ends justify the means, I’m afraid.”

Rafe nods to Singh’s comment before moving towards you and taking the chair beside yours. His knee bumps yours as he sits closer.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his fingers reaching out to brush your arm, but you move your arm away. Crossing your arms over your waist instead.

“I’m fine.”

“We have a lot to talk about.” Carlos moves forward with his glass tumbler. Rafe exhales as he turns his gaze from yours to Carlos.

You refuse to look at Rafe again or even let any part of him touch you. If Ward and Rafe are not behind this, then you know you and your friends are in even greater danger. And you could not count on Rafe to get all seven of you out of it unscathed.

“Why are we here?” You ask, folding your hands in your lap, back straightening, and gaze locking on the newest threat to your safety. You would not show him the panic and fear clawing at you from the inside.

“Well, Ms. yln, Mr. Cameron, we share certain interests, you know.” He looks between you. “Objectives.”

“Is this not about the cross?” Rafe looks at him, with no amount of amusement or even worriedness on his face now.

“It is.” Singh smiles while waving his index finger at Rafe. “Tangentially, it is about the cross, but it’s also about something much, much bigger than the cross.” He moves to look at what is a painting. “By order of magnitude…” He sighs. “The completion of a grand quest. You see, the story goes that 450 years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco Basin with a few gold beads. And when they asked the Spanish soldier “where the beads came from,” the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold. El Dorado.” He waves his hand around, smiling a little and you feel Rafe’s gaze flickers to you once more, but you continue to ignore him. You could not do this right now with him. “And for the next 450 years, people tried to find that gold, you know.” Singh moves closer to where you are both seated before reaching over to pick something up. “They tried. Conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations."

You now recognize the object in his hand as a knife. Your fingers tighten on your arms that rest against your waist and Rafe shifts at the sight of the knife.

“All fighting each other in a race for the end of the rainbow. Thousands of lives laid on the pyre of gold fever.”

He smirks, moving closer again and Rafe shifts out of the corner of your eye, leaning closer to Singh. He has his interest, and you are not surprised in the least.

“It falls on me, you know. It falls on me to complete the task. To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost 500 years. Perhaps…” He gestures again with the knife, punctuating the air to impose the importance of his mission. “Perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere, you know.” He looks between you two again and you see Rafe’s jaw clench when you look at him. His gaze fixated on Singh still. “And you two…” Singh points the knife at Rafe and then at you. Singh chuckles as he lowers the knife. “You two are going to play a part in that.”

Neither of you say anything and he takes the silence as an opportunity to continue forward.

“What about you, Ms. yln, hmm?” He moves closer and lowers himself into the seat across from you. “Are you interested in history?”

“I’m more of a living in the present and planning for the future kind of girl.”

Rafe groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers before lifting his head to look at your captor. “Yeah, I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much are you gonna keep philosophizing?”

Singh chuckles. “You are direct, aren’t you, Mr. Cameron?”

Neither of them says a word as they stare at one another. This isn’t going to end well, and you know it, both men are determined in their own personal missions.

“What do you need from me?” You ask, crossing your leg over the other at the knee and pulling the excess material to cover your exposed thigh.

“I’ve come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help me get what I want.”

You lift an eyebrow and reframe from crossing your arms back against your waist. Strong and poised, just like you had seen all the kooks do. “Which is?”

“An old manuscript. A diary, actually.” Singh looks down for a second before meeting your unwavering gaze again. Rafe’s head turns and he is looking at you, a questioning look on his face. You do not blink, react, or even allow yourself to balk as you stare back at Singh. Your shoulders stay back, and you focus on maintaining a steady breathing pattern. The diary of Pope’s ancestor was not available to him and never would be if you could help it. You could drag this out until they found you, surely, they would be coming soon.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Rafe says to Singh when you do not respond or react.

“This is ridiculous. I don’t know anything about a diary,” you supply finally. Your features are schooled to not give away the truth.

Singh looks away, a sad smile on his face before he meets your gaze again. “But how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?”

You shake your head, the façade starting to crack under both men’s gazes. You inhale sharply. “Look, I want to help you, but I can’t.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that you know.” His face morphs into one of anger. “Because unfortunately, I don’t believe you. You and your friend here couldn’t have found the cross without it.”

“He’s not my friend.” You glance over at Rafe, who does not look the least bit impressed.

Singh smirks, looking over at him as well. “Ex-boyfriend, then.”

Neither of you say anything and Rafe looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

“We can’t all be friends, you know,” Singh supplies. “Or more…”

Rafe sighs, starting to get to his feet after he claps his hands together once. “Look, this is ridiculous. Okay? I’m out.” He starts to step backward as he turns to you. “Come on, I’m not leaving you here.”

“Rafe…” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t know anything about a diary and neither does she, okay? So-” An armed guard steps forward, stopping him in his path and you cannot help, but grip your knee tightly at the thought of the guard using Rafe as target practice.

“Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron?” Singh asks, his attention solely focused on Rafe now. “Do I look like a fool to you?” He gets to his feet and your fingernails dig into your knee as he approaches Rafe.

Rafe shrugs, lips pressed into a line as he paces away from the guard.

“You have the cross. She and her friends had the cross at one point.” He gestures to you without looking, but you are staring at Rafe willing him to back down. He ignores you, glaring at Singh instead. “So one of you has the dairy. And if you really don’t know then I suggest you get your girlfriend to tell me.”

Rafe looks at you and you swallow with a slight shake of your head, you could not.

“Once I have the diary…” Singh turns to look at you. “You’ll be free to leave.”

“And if you don’t get the diary…?” You ask softly.

Singh smirks before shrugging. “We don’t want it to come to that. Right?” He turns to the open doorway. “Fenton.”

The bodyguard who had shoved you around earlier returns, a neutral expression on his face.

“Let’s give our guests the tour.” The guard steps forward shoving you and then Rafe follows Singh out of the room and towards the stairs.

Once up the stairs, Singh leads the way into the bedroom you had previously been stowed away in. His arms stretch out as he moves towards the window. “Enjoy the grounds during your stay.” You both follow him into the room, the guard not far behind. “I must warn you, though. I’m not a man of infinite patience.”

You glance at Rafe as he gets closer. His fingers nearly brush your waist.

“You have one day,” Singh continues. “Go to the window for a little demonstration.” He moves towards the exit and walks between you while patting Rafe on the upper arm. “I think you’ll enjoy it; you know.”

After he steps out of the room, the guard grabs the doorknob and closes the door without a word.

“Hey. Hey!” Rafe goes after them, but he is not fast enough as the door clicks shut with the sound of the lock sliding firmly in place. “You’re just done talking?” He rattles the doorknob trying to open it, but it does not budge. “Hey!”

“Rafe…” You sigh, moving towards the window. “It’s locked. Trust me, where do you think he had me before our little meeting downstairs.”

“How long have you been here?” He asks, spinning to look at you.

You shrug. “Not more than a day.” You peek out the window and he joins you as a truck pulls up, his hand brushing against your back and you pull away from him. He huffs in annoyance, but you ignore it.

“Fine,” he lifts his hands but continues to look out the window at what you are seeing as guards haul someone out of a truck.

“Get off me, man! I didn’t do nothing, man!” Portis’s voice carries up to you and you inhale, hand pressing to the glass.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Rafe asks, leaning closer to the glass.

You exhale, hand retracting from the glass. “I know him. It’s Jimmy Portis.”

Rafe’s head whips to the side as he looks at you.

“He was trying to help me,” you murmur, meeting his gaze head-on. “They are going to hurt him, aren’t they?” You look back out to the patio just as Singh steps into your line of sight. He looks up at you before pulling out a gun.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rafe starts, his hand brushing yours before his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, but Singh turns away and heads into the covered porch area where they had taken Jimmy. The sound of the gun firing has you both flinching. You gasp, horror flooding through you, and your fingers tighten around your dress as you stare at where everyone had been moments before, but Rafe pulls you away, tucking your head under his chin as he holds you against his chest before you can see the body or even Singh again.

“This diary,” Rafe starts, his breathing matching your own frantic pace. “Hey, no bullshit. Don’t bullshit me, okay?” He turns your face up to his, his free hand gripping your chin. “Do you have it?” After a moment with your lack of response and not meeting his gaze, he goes for the weak spot. “Baby, do you have it?”

“No.” You respond, meeting his gaze head-on now before you reach up to pull his hand away from your face. “I don’t.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, Rafe, God!” You exhale and pull away from him completely before pacing across the room. “Besides, it’s not my diary. It’s Pope’s.”

“I don’t think Singh cares about that!”

“I’m aware!” You gesture to the window before turning away, your hands tightening on your arms as you cross your arms against your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to think of a way to get yourself to safety. Surely the pogues would be looking for you, but matched against the armed guards outside they would not get anywhere near you. And it is clear Singh does not mind killing someone that gets in his way.

“We need to figure out how to get out of here then.”

“The pogues will be looking for me.”

He scoffs. “Against Singh’s own personal army?”

You glare at him. “I’m all ears then.”

He smirks, dragging his hand over his mouth. “You think your little boyfriend JJ can save you, don’t you?”

“Rafe,” you warn, but he just laughs.

“He’d get shot and die before he gets anywhere near you now, Princess.”

“I’m not your Princess anymore.”

He shrugs, plopping down on the edge of the windowsill. “Whose decision was that?”

“Mine, one I don’t regret.”

“Right,” he mutters before shedding his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Going from being my girl to that dirty Pogue’s girl was quite the step up,” he mocks, and you have half a nerve to slap him, but you bite it down instead.

“Fighting is not going to help us right now.”

“The only thing that is going to help us is getting that diary,” he mutters, and you groan, throwing yourself down on the mattress. “We have one day to figure this out or we join Jimmy out there.”

“I’m aware,” you sigh, burying your face in the blanket as you try to think of a plan.

“Where is the diary?”

“I don’t know!” You snap and lift your head just as Rafe leans onto the bed. His hands are on either side of your head as he leans over you on the opposite side of the bed.

“You are lying.”

“Am not.”

He smirks. “I know your tells.”

You roll your eyes and start to sit up, but he does not move, instead, he reaches out. His hand encloses your wrist before he lifts your hand to his face. His eyes flutter closed as he presses your palm to his cheek.

“Rafe?”

“Let me,” he says, his voice softer now. “I thought I lost you that day on the ship.”

“You did.”

His eyes snap open and they meet your gaze before he drops your hand and straightens up. “I missed you, every day. I tried to take you with me.”

“You tried to kidnap me,” you amend, sitting up and leaning back against the pillows at the head of the bed. “Or are you too much like your father? Manipulating the truth to fit your agenda.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Paint me as the bad guy for being in love with you.”

You sigh, closing your eyes briefly, head dropping back against the pillows. “You never loved me, Rafe.”

“Bullshit.”

You stay silent, instead focusing on finding a way out of the compound.

“Where did you get that dress?”

“Singh.”

He scoffs, running a hand over his face, but you ignore him, keeping your eyes closed. “Take it off.”

“No.”

“Take it off,” he repeats, and this time you do open your eyes to glare at him.

“I said no. It’s the only clothing I have right now.”

“You can have my jacket. I don’t like you wearing his dress.”

“Too fucking bad. I don’t want your jacket either.”

He moves closer, crossing the distance between you in a few long strides. His body bearing down over yours as he glares at you. “He thinks he owns you while you are wearing that. Besides, the color isn’t even right for you.”

“Oh?” You ask, arching a brow at him. “And does the same apply if I put on your jacket?”

He does not say a word and it makes you laugh.

“Give it up, Rafe. You lost me a long time ago.”

He smirks. “Liar.”

“You are so annoying,” you groan and try to get off the bed to move away from him, but he hooks his arm around your waist pulling you back to where he wants. His long lean body presses against yours. The attempts to shove his arm away fail and he takes the opportunity to use his free hand to tip your chin back. Your eyes lock and he breathes deeply before he leans down.

“You’ve always been mine, Princess.” He smirks, nudging your nose with the tip of his. “We both know it.”

“Rafe…”

“Admit it, Princess, and I let you go. Admit that you belong to me.”

You exhale sharply, lips parting as his breath fans over your face. “JJ was never in the picture, Rafe. He loves Kiara and she loves him.”

“Not what I asked, Baby.”

You inhale shakily, hands on his forearms, squeezing the toned expanse under your palms. “Rafe…”

“Say it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” he says, and it makes your body tingle with anticipation. Your nails bite into the soft skin of his forearm. “Say it for me, Baby.”

You swallow, lips parting again. “I belong to you. I always have.”

His mouth finds yours in a hungry kiss and your hands shift to press to his chest. He expects you to push him back, but the way your heart nearly bursts has your fingers tangling in the thin material of his button-up, pulling him closer instead.

His body covers yours as you both fall into the bed together. His body presses down on yours as you both fight for dominance.

He wins, his hand tangling in your hair and the other finds its way under the skirt of your dress.

“Rafe,” you moan, tipping your head when his mouth moves to lay open-mouthed kisses across your throat and exposed chest. His hips push into yours and you can feel the hardened bulge against your thigh.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he mutters against your skin before the sound of fabric tearing fills the space. You lift your head to see his hand fisting a handful of the fabric of the dress against your waist. It is perfectly torn down the middle. The expanse of your body exposed to him. “Fuck! You are still so beautiful.”

“You ripped my dress.”

“I’ll buy you another.” He smirks, dragging the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. You nip at it before sucking his thumb into your mouth. “In the color, I prefer you to wear.”

“Rafe!” You scold, but he only laughs before his lips are on yours again.

He tugs the straps of your dress down your arms before removing the ripped material away from you completely. Both pieces hit the ground soundlessly as his body presses against yours. Your knees fall apart allowing him to sink into you and you yearn for more of him. You unbutton his shirt, lips ghosting along the length of his neck, and he closes his eyes, relishing the feel and sounds of you in his arms again.

“We don’t have a condom,” you pant against his chest when he wrestles the white button down off his arms before throwing it to the floor while you work on his pants.

“I’ll pull out,” he mutters, pressing his lips to your ear and jaw. “I’m not stopping, not now.”

You nod, ignoring the alarm bells in your head at not having been on your birth control the entire time you have been on the island. Once his pants are down to his knees, you have your hand inside his underwear and wrapping around his hardened length.

“Fuck!” He pants, hips jerking forward as you stroke him a few times. “Christ Princess!”

You watch him, his eyes squeezing shut, lips parting in pleasure before you are kissing him as you continue to pump your hand up and down. His hips rocking in time with your movements. He pants into your mouth, groaning with each stroke until he is jerking away, pushing your hand out of his underwear.

“No, I want to be inside of you.”

You bite your lip and watch him shove his underwear down along with his pants before his fingers encircle the elastic band of your underwear.

“Don’t you dare rip these,” you say against his lips.

He chuckles before nodding and tugging them off while you shed your bra. Both of you toss them to the floor before he is wrapping his hand around your knee and pulling you down closer to him.

“Try to be quiet.”

You scoff and smack his shoulder. “I wasn’t the one shouting out profanities or Christ a second ago.”

He laughs before slowly easing into you. Your breath hitches at the feel of him sinking into you. He buries his face into the curve of your neck, curses of pleasure muffled by your skin, and his hands grip the comforter on either side of your head.

“Fuck!”

“Shh,” you chide, hands running down the expanse of his back.

“I’m going to come right here and now.”

You bite your lip before reaching up to run your fingers through his too short hair. “You know better than that."

He groans as he begins to move, your hands gripping his biceps, the muscles flexing under you palms with each movement. His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the comforter.

“Touch me, please,” you whisper, lips pressing to his jaw, and he obliges, loosening his grip on the comforter. One hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg up against his hip allowing him to sink deeper and the other tangles in your hair, angling your face so he can kiss you again. Any sound either of you makes is muffled by the other as you kiss, but you are aware of the sound of his hips meeting yours and the bed creaking with each thrust. They know, there is no way they do not know, but it makes you only want him more.

(Part 2)

[lees-chaotic-brain]

this is for your event 🗣️🗣️

here me out.. gojo fic abt the song tell your girlfriend by lay banks. something like having a crush on gojo and he likes reader too but reader and gojo are with other people. idc who readers boyfriend is🫣

WC: 1.7k

CW: alcohol consumption (all characters of age), swearing, cheating (see above ask for details), female pronouns (reader referred to as girlfriend), not beta read AT ALL, reader is a bit of a crybaby lol

Note: thanks for sending an ask in emi!!! also, this song is fire i was literally jamming the entire time i was writing. also, sorry if you wanted this to be more true to the vibe of the song. i kind of interpreted it my own way and rolled with it lmao

listen to this while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

You loved your boyfriend, right? You had only been dating four months, but you wouldn’t have dated someone if you didn’t have feelings for him. Sure, he could be a little aloof, and a little rude, but he had his moments when he was sweet and caring. So why did you find yourself thinking of someone else?

During the day when the sun was out and you were thinking rationally you could convince yourself that you truly cared for him, but at night under the low lighting of the bar all bets were off. When you were a few shots past tipsy and your thinking was slowed, why did another face keep coming to mind.? 

Initially, I wouldn't do this

Hennessy pourin' and shit gettin' fluid

And you never intended to cheat. And you definitely never intended to fall for your best friend who was also dating someone else. But when you spent time with him, or when he shot a flirtatious wink from across the room he ignited a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. A swarm of butterflies that went into hibernation when you were around your boyfriend.

You knew it was wrong, that you shouldn’t feel the way you did, but with the heavy beat of the bass coursing through you and cognac warming your insides your traitorous heart finally decided what it was Gojo Satoru made you feel. Desire. And…love. Oh shit, that wasn’t good.

Suddenly feeling a bit ill, you waved your concerned friend off and staggered outside to get some fresh air. Taking deep gulps of fresh air, you stepped into an alley to get some privacy so you could collect your thoughts. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes.

As you stand there shivering, your thoughts are interrupted by a warm jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. Spinning around, you find yourself face to face with the one person you absolutely did not want to see at the moment. Confronted by the appearance of your best friend, you can’t help but start crying. It’s stupid, you know, but as soon as you lay eyes on him the shock of your realization wears off and your emotions kick in.

“Oh my god, hey, are you okay?” He panics, grabbing your shoulders and peering into your face concerned. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong??”

His care only serves to make you cry harder. Why? Why did he have to be like this? Couldn’t he just be a bad friend and ignore you? It would be so much easier that way. Unsure what to do, he pulls you into a hug, patting you on the back.

“Hey. It’s okay. I got you. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You can't take it anymore. You both are dating other people, and you are definitely finding too much comfort in his arms. Pushing him away, you avert your gaze.

“You, okay? You’re my problem. Can you just leave me alone please?”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘me?’ Did I do something? Also, I’m not leaving you outside by yourself at this time of night. Please, can’t you just talk to me? Whatever I did I-”

“I just realized I’m in love with you, okay?!” Your voice rings out in the stillness of the alley, and you clap your hands over your mouth, horrified. “Wait, I-”

You’re cut off by him gently taking your face in his hands and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet; filled with years of longing and suppressed feelings pouring from each of you. It feels like home. It feels like love. It feels right, but you know it isn’t. Pushing him back, you stare at him wide-eyed, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“What…what was that?”

We was just friends, but then came in Cupid

The tension was buildin', we had to pursue it

“I like you too.” He blurts in lieu of answering your question. Then he pauses and corrects himself. “Actually I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Unsure of what to do or say, you just start laughing, because the two of you were idiots. You were best friends who supposedly knew everything about each other. Except for the fact that you were each in love with the other, apparently. Oh my god you were in love with your best friend and he was in love with you. Your laughter became tinged with hysteria as you remembered that you had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. 

Tears filled your waterline. “Oh my god Toru what are we doing? I have a boyfriend!! And you have a girlfriend! We can’t be doing this…”

“Why not?” He gently cups your face in his palms and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “Break up with your boyfriend. Be with me. My girlfriend isn’t a problem. She’s known about my feelings for you from the start. She’s in love with someone else too and we’ve just been using each other as a distraction. There’s nothing in our way.”

Standing in that alley with his vivid blue eyes on yours, you couldn’t help but believe him. What if he was right. What if the two of you really were meant to be?”

What it's been with us this whole time

Taking a deep breath, you step back, and out of his reach. If you were going to think about this rationally, you couldn’t be so close to him. You push your hair back out of your eyes and tilt your head back. He watches you from where he is, knowing that you need space to sort out your emotions and thoughts. After a few minutes you turn back to him.

“Alright. The first thing I’m going to do is break up with my boyfriend and apologize. After that, I’m not sure. I don’t want to make you any promises, because I’m not really sure of anything. The only thing I know is that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don't break up with him, because he doesn’t deserve to be hurt or deceived. Okay?”

“That’s fine.” Satoru says simply, looking at you with so much affection it hurts. “I’ve waited for you so long, a little while longer isn’t going to do me any harm.”

Your eyes soften. “Thanks. Now, I’m going to head back in, okay?” He steps aside, allowing you to pass. Heading back into the party, you feel nauseous, but you head up to your boyfriend.

Because if you ever want to be with Satoru, your relationship can’t start with deception.

'Cause I don't wanna live a lie, lie, lie

An hour and one extremely difficult conversation later found you sitting on a park bench with your head in your hands crying. Surprisingly, your now ex-boyfriend had been very understanding and kind about it. While he was clearly hurt and holding back tears, he had told you that he just wanted you to be happy, and that he was okay with it.

After reassuring you that he wasn’t angry, he hugged you one last time, wished you well, and walked away. Unable to stop crying, you were overwhelmed by a sense of relief, but at the same time guilt. So you had told your boyfriend. What now?

Should tell my boyfriend what I been doin'

The weeks after your breakup were tough. You told Satoru you needed time to yourself, because even though you logically knew that you shouldn’t feel bad, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. You felt like if you started dating him now, it would be unfair to your ex, and that you should at least wait a little while.

You also discussed the matter of his girlfriend, and decided that it was okay for him to remain with her until you were ready, as the two of them were friends and he was helping her make her crush jealous. You didn’t mind him helping her, especially since you were making him wait and overcomplicating things.

You told Gojo as much, and decided that for the time being the two of you would remain friends until you were ready. You just needed a little time to figure yourself out. But you knew that you wanted to be with him. Just not right that second.

Took a break, had to focus on some me time

We can keep it low-key for the meantime

A couple months passed, and you went on with your life. Everything was normal, and you tried to push your thought of Satoru away, preferring to procrastinate on talking to him as long as possible. 

Until one night, when you were cleaning your room and found a box of photos from your high school days with him. Going through them, you felt a sense of nostalgia, and affection. And suddenly you missed him. You missed him so bad it hurt. You needed him by your side, and you needed him as more than a friend.

Hit by this revelation, you sat there for a moment, stunned, before leaping up and grabbing your car keys. Driving well above the speed limit, you rushed to his house and banged on his door. Was it sometime after midnight? Yes. Did you really care? No.

You heard his groggy voice say something about waiting one moment, then the door swung open. And there he stood, right in front of you in all his sleepy glory. But as soon as his eyes landed on you they widened and all traces of sleep disappeared from them.

“[Y/N]! What are you doing here? It’s-” You interrupt him, tears already pouring down your face as you beam up at him.

“I love you. I’m ready to be your girlfriend now.”

Go tell your girlfriend that I'm your girlfriend (oh, oh)

[bitimdrake]

why do you think tim agreed to be adopted if he doesn’t really see bruce as his father? is there anything parental happening in there??

He does! And he doesn't! And it is and isn't. It's a wonderfully messy thing!

To answer the first question first, there are a lot of reasons for Tim to be adopted no matter what. On the milder side, it's logistically convenient to have a guardian, and specifically to have one that is aware of and endorses his vigilantism.

But more than that, in the time after his dad died, Tim was in a very dark place. One of the things Tim does when in a dark place is self-isolate. He made up this whole fake uncle thing to stop Bruce from adopting him after the first offer, so that he could live completely on his own without being beholden to anyone. And that was bad for him! Self-isolating is bad for Tim!

So in that sense, accepting Bruce's second offer of adoption is a huge symbol that Tim is doing better. He (and Bruce and Dick) had the whole One Year Later cruise around the world to heal and improve, and Tim is less locked in grief now and willing to connect. And he shows this by accepting an offer of adoption from someone who loves him and choosing to live in a house with people he loves too. Hooray!

Because, no matter what, he does care about Bruce. And he cares about Alfred, who he independently had a close relationship with, and about Dick, who'd been calling Tim his little brother for years. (Dick and Alfred being the other members of the family at this point.)

So I don't think it really has to be father/son at all between Bruce and Tim for Tim to agree to be adopted, nor for it to be a good thing.

That said, I also don't think it's entirely not parental. I was being a little silly and flippant in that post, because I do think Bruce and Tim are weird about their vaguely defined relationship.

It is an absolutely key part of that relationship that, for ~4 years, Bruce and Tim were Batman and Robin, and worked closely together, and cared about each other, and were not father and son at all. Because Tim still had his own dad! Of course Bruce wasn't his dad! That would be just weird.

That doesn't mean there's nothing paternal to their relationship in the Robin years. Adult mentor/kid protege, sure there are absolutely angles here.

And it also doesn't mean they never became father and son after the adoption. A lot of this is based on vibes and personal interpretation! There's this story shortly after Tim's adoption where he puts a lot of effort into getting Bruce a perfect father's day gift. They do refer to each other as father/son periodically when talking to others.

My personal read on it is that Tim was very consciously trying to Be A Proper Family after the adoption, and adjust super fast. And I do think that by the point Bruce "dies" (or maybe at that point?), Tim sees him as more of a father.

(Also I think probably Tim is Bruce's son much more than Bruce is Tim's dad. Or at least sooner. Again, vibes.)

But I also don't think they necessarily need to be defined so sharply. They're never going to be like Jason and Bruce, who were father and son right away, or even Dick and Bruce, who were family and ward/guardian right away. They are always going to have known each other as non-family first. Which doesn't mean they aren't going to care about each other.

But I think it should mean they get to be little weirdos about how they do define their relationship when forced to.

[codenamesazanka]

Spinner used to be a hikikomori and NEET, which means he was a recluse who wasn’t in school or employment (and technically still isn’t) and had withdrawn even from his family to hide out in his room.

We get two one-panel flashbacks to this era of his life and the imagery prove the label undeniable. As official Viz translator Caleb Cook notes:

…Book stacks, tied-up garbage bags, general clutter. This is the classic NEET/hikikkomori living space, as portrayed in media like Welcome to the NHK and other series. It screams "young adult whose life is in shambles.” There's huge visual contrast between a NEET apartment and a teen's room in manga/anime. The latter is almost always spick and span. In Japanese media, excessive clutter is often a visual marker for characters who have failed society's expectations of them. Practically a trope.

Going by this imagery, guess who else is a hikikomori/NEET— or, is (supposed to be) read as a hikikomori/NEET?

Shigaraki Tomura’s room fulfills all the requirements of this trope, down to every tiny bit of filth on the floor. There’s really no difference between his and Spinner’s room.

And Spinner likely recognizes this. While everyone else is watching Shigaraki after they escape from Kamino - minus Mr. Compress and Toga who are talking - Spinner is the only one staring at the dirty floor, lost in his own thoughts.

＊

I’ve seen meta before about how Shigaraki’s living conditions are a direct result of All For One’s lack of proper education - that All For One purposefully wants Shigaraki to have bad hygiene, to wallow in his own filth and just completely neglect any basic upkeep. Just another way to whittle him down. That’s a fair assumption, but I think it’s worth pointing out that in Tenko’s early years living with All For One, his room is neat and clean, even after he starts to accumulate toys and books and general stuff.

The best time to teach a child to set (or not set) habits is when they’re young, and clearly Tenko knew at least to not toss litter around carelessly, to put things away, and even to make his bed:

Of course, it could be that the teaching of deterioration started when AFO gave Shigaraki Tomura his name, but the people around Shigaraki the most have always shown to be neat and proper: AFO is always dressed in a suit; the Doctor’s lab is crowded with a lot going on, but not dirty; Kurogiri, who we assume has been babysitting Shigaraki for years, keeps the bar immaculate. AFO’s other wards also live in neat, clean environments:

That’s not to say AFO didn’t contribute at all to Shigaraki’s hikikomori vibe - simply keeping someone isolated and depressed will bound to make a mess of their mind and that will be reflected in the environment; just that AFO didn’t have to purposefully teach Shigaraki not to clean up after himself - he didn’t need to when Shigaraki does it on his own.

In any case, Shigaraki reads as a hikikomori/NEET from the start, someone alienated from society and wildly off the typical, proper life path expected of him as a young man, and resents the rest of the world for it.

＊

Combining the two observations, I think this is another aspect to why Spinner had so quickly grew attached to Shigaraki after the Doc calls Shigaraki a loser

Being hikikomori/NEET is just another commonality they both share, in Spinner’s eyes. Before the crumbling, glittery horizon of Deika; even before the revelation of Shigaraki’s grand ‘Destroy Everything’ goal, Spinner was just some depressed 20-something-year-old who saw another depressed 20-something-year-old and recognized their similar pain, then wanting to lift that burden somehow, however he could.

＊

*Important to note: Often hikikomori/NEETs are seen as failures that can really only blame themselves, lazy parasites on their families and society. Of the three hikikomori the series have shown so far - Shigaraki, Spinner, La Brava - the story have been careful to clearly draw a line between the marginalization they face and why they ended up how they did. Shigaraki was kidnapped by a criminal mastermind; Spinner stayed inside for his own protection because walking outside got him sprayed with pesticides, among other things; and La Brava was bullied and mocked by her peers. Horikoshi have made all three characters incredibly sympathetic and made the root cause of their alienation not from faults of their own but from how society had failed them.

[nohoney]

k! k! (◕‿◕✿) imagine having a dream that coffee + cigs touya cheated on you and you wake up angry at him╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡

no but fr this has happened to me and it was so hard for me to not be actually mad at my partner when i woke up (-﹏-。)

nonny i got u (☆ω☆)

see touya just rolls over and sees that you’re already awake, just scrolling on your phone idly. he greets you with a raspy ‘good morning’ and tries to kiss you but you turn away and tell him to get off. and of course he’s thinking oh great, what did i do this time?

he sighs and asks you if he hit you during his sleep again and that’s why you’re mad at him. it’s a thing that unfortunately happens every so often; he can’t help it honestly but he knows that he has to apologize. you tell him a curt no and get out of bed.

touya pinches the bridge of his nose before following after you, knowing that it’s better to stay within your space than assuming to give you space until you verbally tell him yourself. he makes the coffee and you warm up store bought croissants in the little toaster oven. he comes up behind you and places your favorite mug in front of you, having already added the creamer your coffee.

“why are you pissed? i’m not gonna have another conversation with you about taking your anger out on me without you telling me, do you understand?” touya is firm in his tone, showing that he’s not gonna let your attitude slide. he knows the difference between you being crabby and then actually being upset. “hm? we gonna talk this out or are we spending our morning in separate rooms?”

you wiggle out of the small space and take your mug with you. it seems like it’s going to be the second option but you lean on the opposite side of the countertop so that you face him.

“you cheated on me.”

his eyebrow raises in question before he tells you, “i have never.”

“uh yeah you did.” you insist.

“okay, humor me. when did i ‘cheat’ on you?” touya puts his hands up for air quotes around the emphasized word.

you pout at him first before answering, “last night, in my dream.”

yup, he knew it was for a dumb reason.

“i’m serious touya! what kind of bad vibes were you giving me last night to affect my dream? do i have to get something to ward off evil energy?” you scoff before sipping your coffee. “how dare you.”

he rolls his eyes at you but it’s a win that you chose to talk to him instead of being in your mood. “yes how dare i, meaning the me in your dreamscape, do something that i, the real me, would never do? you want me to apologize for what your mind made up in your sleep?”

“yes.”

“okay, i am sorry that your dream made you upset and i happened to be the star of your dream. just know that i wouldn’t do it to you in real life, ever.” he assures you, knowing that underneath your attitude you just want assurance that he’d never step out on you in real life. “can i kiss you good morning now so that we can have a peaceful morning?”

“… yes.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Spoilers for Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

I haven't actually finished the game but I was thinking, what if Zelda never returns to being a hylian and just remains a dragon forever? Who would be the next in line for the throne?

That's right.

Link. Why?

1. Link is from a long family of knights and one of the only known and confirmed nobles in the game

2. Link is one of the only people in Hyrule to know many classified secrets of the royal family (especially if he regains all his memories from his time as Zeldas personal guard and whatnot)

3. Link has saved and aided all of the different tribes on multiple occasions and united them under him.

4. He has personal friendly relationships with all the tribes leaders aka the chiefs and Zora king

5. Link is pretty good as descalating conflicts and finding middle grounds

6. Link is cononically just as compassionate and lovable as Zelda is and would be beloved as Prince

Theres more but I think you got the picture. Just imagine Prince Link, uncomfortable about this turn of events but willing to do what is best for his people.

So I propose a plot for the new DLC: Of course theres a new Big Bad (maybe a sorcerer like Vaati or something) who makes themselves a castle of thier own in the Depths and is trying to take over hyrule but in a different way than we've seen before. Sure they still create monster and cause havoc but they also do political stuff like scandal and slander

Link gathering alliances with the people of the different tribes and trying to clear his name after he's been framed for crimes he did not commit maybe? He, that doesn't really fit the vibe with what I'm going for, but what if the new Big Bad tried to make the people of Hyrule like him more and use thier love of him as a way into power?

Maybe disasters keep happening and the new guys servents/knights keeps saving the day but things keep getting worse and worse. Maybe there could be a new game mechanic where there's a ward or talisman that stops dark magic/ evil entities from entering the city and most of the disasters in that area stopping entirely and when the servent/knight tries to enter the city they hit a magic barrier and it sounds like a mosquitoe getting zapped by a bug zapper and they scream, revealing themselves to be a monster who had been the one causing all the disasters in the first place. The civilians freak out and the monster flees.

Link and the sage of that area believed in Link the whole time/was suspicious of the servant/knight follows the monster with Link and they find a maze like nest the monster has created

Cue dungeon

Cue boss battle

Rinse and repeat for all the sages people (maybe there are some previously unknown Zonai survivors that Minaru is awed and excited to find and she takes them in idk) maybe they were lost in time or something. Maybe thats where the big bad came from and the the Zonai children interrupted the Big Bads spell and thay wound up in the distant future, the children later running away in confusion and terror. So new tribe and dungeon? Just a thought

DLC features:

1. MASSIVE main quest to renovate the castle where you get to redecorate it however you want. Like you get to choose the furniture and decorations and have things restored to thier former glory. Granted you have to pay for repairs out of your own pocket (taxes can only go so far and thats going towards rebuilding the towns and stuff) and you get to put up your own pictures to replace those torn apart portraits and stuff you see around the castle in BOTW and TOTK. You can put up pictures of Hyrules former royals, the champions, the sages, ect. Or you can go the painting route where someone paints the photos you have on your Purah Pad like in your house in Terry Town. I would buy the DLC just for this to be honest

As you renovate the castle and dig out all the collaped pathways you get new memories of Links time as a soldier and get to see his family as well as memories with Zelda

I would throw so much money at Nintendo just to be able to renovate the castle to my liking. Like, so much you have no idea

2. Link getting a freaking crown and royal armor sets. One for prince and another after he's corinated as king near the end of the game

Armor sets based off of the new and old boss monsters

Armor sets based off of the mini-boss monsters including Gloom Hands (this one looks horrifying btw) and you get some kinda boost from each that represents that specific monster like a Hinox set giving you a food affect boost and Gloom Hands set boosts the power of the Phantom Ganon drops

Maybe a sage set that boosts the powers of the sages a bit

Forest dweller set that increases the durability of wooden weapons

3. Rebuilding the town ruins and creating homes for people all over hyrule like the Deya village ruins and Tabantha ruins and you can do it Lurelin Village style (I loved that side quest it was actually pretty fun)

Anyway, this is me officially releasing this idea to Nintendo it they want it so long as they credit me for the ideas they use from me. They don't even have to pay me (but hiring me would be nice)

Here's a poll to maybe help convince them this is a good idea

@nintendo :)

[jq37]

Nemesis watch is so funny but also I'm shocked no one clocked "no new nemeses in the next 30 days" and went "well what if they declared you their nemesis before that?"

Lol I was expecting Fabian to ask about that! Because clearly they have records of past nemesis declarations if they know about Chungledown Bim. I would have that full list texted to me right away.

Also, between this season, Freshman Year, and Starstruck, I feel like D20 has a lot more banking related things happening than in your average TTRPG.

Anyway, I hope they keep on top of that because Brennan said it like it was a throwaway joke but it could be a great way to get info in the future. I will also say though, I don't know that it would help with Kipperlily and the other Rat Grinders because they seem like people who would read the rules and specifically avoid declaring the Bad Kids as their nemeses (or anything else the bank is tracking like "Real sunuvabitch" lol) officially so there would be no paper trail. Not that they need a bank to tell them that the Rat Grinders are bringing some HEAVILY clashing vibes.

Edit: This also begs the question. Is Adaine officially Aelwyn's nemesis due to the nemesis ward casting? Like if she got this service with the bank would they be like, "Yeah we have one Aelwyn Abernant listed here. Family drama, am I right?" The thought of Aelwyn for all legal purposes being Adaine's nemesis but also taking her to get coffee on the weekend is very funny.

[itsgrimeytime]

Home is Where the Heart is (Part Four) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

Part 1, 2, 3...

Taglist: @1tsk1tty

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWS: flirting, bad relationships, abandonment issues, and self-destructing the good things.

[[A/N: Just know the vibes for Rick in this one are Bucky-based. Like Marvel Winter Soldier character. anyway... Thanks for reading!!! ]]

He wasn't talking, was the first thing you noticed. Which was weird, it wasn't like you were paying attention to him, but he was the one who invited you- whatever.

You were staring, you knew that, but it was just a little dumbfounding. He spoke little, only a few people here and there and when they tried to push farther, he clammed up.

But not with you.

You had in fact been sticking to his side all evening -including during the grilling.

"Y'er gonna wanna wait 'til it's a nice brown," he hummed, motioning to the grill, "-then, flip it."

He was teaching you how to flip burgers, which you kind of already knew but you'd take it from him. Rick's voice was very nice what could you say, you were a simple person.

"Is there any sort of timing into it?" you asked.

"Well, yeah, there's-"

And he paused, eyes locked onto something behind you in a sort of sharpened stare. One you'd never seen before. There were all sorts of new features of Rick's you were discovering.

"What's-" you turned to look.

There was a woman there, tall and slim -beautiful. She had long brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a face sculpted to perfection. The woman seemed to notice Rick and instantly waved a sort of awkward little hand -uncomfortable. You probably would be too if such a glance was leveled at you.

In a fit of courage, you asked, "Whose that?"

Rick didn't respond for a moment, eyes staring straight at her -he looked a little lost. Something in the blue was a deep sort of bitter, but another part was... sad.

"Hey," you stepped in front of his eyes, "-everything okay, Rick?"

He sighed, blue eyes landing on yours, something releasing at the sight of you -the tension in his shoulders. You didn't want to analyze that today.

"My ex-wife."

Oh, something in your mind went blank as you peered back at her but she was now gone from the gate.

"Was she..." you echoed, slowly, "-invited?"

"No," he sighed -a deep one, "-my son probably... It doesn't matter."

"Do you want me to..." you started, a bit nervously, "-stick with you? Maybe ward her away?"

"What like-" he started all gruff voice and hands, sort of awkward, "-like we're datin'?"

"Well, maybe...?" you answered, unsure, "-I was thinking more flirty? Just to keep her at bay, nothing more awkward for an ex-wife, yeah?"

"Well..."

"Does she live around here?" you asked.

He huffed out, "No, but I... just ain't sure with lyin'."

"Who said I was lying, loverboy," you winked at him (and you swore you saw his ears flush), "-but it's only whatever you're comfortable with."

"I think," he hummed, before matching your eyes -thoughtfully, "-yeah, okay. Just one day."

"Just one day," you parroted back, sliding yourself into his side and grabbing his arm, "-wanna go fetch a drink, Mr. Grimes?"

He grinned, in a sort of dazed way -you wondered why for a second, "Yeah, okay."

And so you stayed by his side the entire night, hands lingering and batting your eyes every once in a while -playing the part was strangely natural to you. He reciprocated actions, taking halfway through that night to call you 'darlin' and sometimes even sneaking his hand at the base of your waist -guiding you.

"You okay?" he whispered, the night was over and the party slowly dimmed down, it was just the two of you out here. Yet, he gathered you into his side and wrapped an arm (calloused fingers pressed into your shoulder) around you.

"Yeah," you hummed -mind lit up with memories, memories you were running from, "-just thinking."

"What about?"

Tears gather in your eyes, and you wipe them away -it felt so natural to do so, "Someone I shouldn't."

He fell quiet, only rubbing his hand down your arm -back and forth, back and forth. You took a chance and leaned into his shoulder, nothing romantic then, just... just support.

"Will ya tell me one day?" he asked, genuinely -the rumble of his throat echoing through your head.

"Maybe," you spoke softly, before teasing, "-if you're nice."

Rick laughed, and you felt something in you flicker like a lightbulb -you pushed the warmth away. Despite how good this felt, you couldn't have this. You swore-

"Everythin' alright?"

You sighed, slowly removing yourself from his arm, "Yeah, just tired. Think I need to pack it up for the night."

"Okay," he spoke, gently, but looked at you heavily with those blue eyes, like he knew, "-have a goodnight, darlin'."

You softened, smiling wide and trailing back to your house, "Goodnight, loverboy!"

He laughed, big and loud and you heard it all the way to your door, maybe even after replaying it in your head. You felt a sparkle when... when you made him laugh. A twinkle in your chest.

You stilled.

Not now, you hummed to yourself, trying to flush out the feeling, no more, no more.

"He'll leave you," something in your mind said -quiet and creeping, "-they leave."

You went inside and closed your eyes. You needed a break.

[sequesteredbhaalspawn]

Durge's story also just has very bad "lobotomize, torture, and commit medical malpractice against 'bad people'/the mentally ill/criminals/what-have-you" and they will become good! And conform to popular expectations that society deems acceptable" vibes that are just very uncomfortable. And is that intentionally by Larian? I don't really know.

Is Durge's story of becoming a better person (if you role-play them that way) really about them choosing that, or is about removing all agency from them so they become what others want them to be? Is Durge's story about someone who had power and used it against others, while also having a high power used against them, only to trade it for the same set up but the new power of over them is deemed "good" so it's fine if they didn't find any kind of freedom, and left in a dynamic where they are still expected to just be what everyone else wants them to be without knowing or finding out who they are for themselves? And really choose to better themself as a person.

Also, a person doesn't just murder 1,000 people, cannibalize their corpses, commit necrophilia and other heinous acts because someone made them do it. There is always a choice. Even if choosing not to means death. There is a ton of nuance there, it is not black and white.

Durge was a bad person previously by choice. It also shown they enjoyed what they did, and yes, that is due to the very nature of being a Bhaalspawn, Bhaal is/was the god of death (Myrkul was the god OF the dead, different things) due to their divine nature they are drawn to the things that Bhaal embodies (even after the divine essence is removed from the Bhaalspawn this still stands; see Imoen and Gorion's Ward's lore for that, or even the dialog choices that Durge can still make) BUT the ability to choose still stands. No one is so helpless that they are actually forced into doing the things (in their entirety) Durge did. Durge had the power to make their own choices far more before Orin's attack than they do after it.

So I really have to wonder if Durge's story is about taking away the agency of "bad people" to make them "good." The narrative around them in game certainly seems to send that message.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I absolutely adore your hc!! What about the M6 with a tailor MC? You could even tie in some magic with it like them stitching runes on things for protection or like an actual spell!

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a tailor MC

~ I don't know a lot about tailoring outside of like. reattaching a button to my favorite shirt and failing so badly that I never wear it again but also refuse to get rid of it? I need an MC like this in my life too tbh. Thanks for the idea @bee-bug! - brainrot ~

Julian

He knows absolutely nothing about your craft, so he has a healthy amount of respect for it

Is on a constant quest for knowledge so he will ask you about it

As soon as you start introducing all the numbers and measurements involved he's lost

Will give suggestions sometimes for projects you're working on to add some dramatic flair to the piece in question

If you can't really picture what he's trying to describe he will attempt to draw it for you

He is a terrible artist

Will compare the way you stitch fabric to the way he stitches up people in disturbing detail

Will also suggest you help him out sometimes. You will have to politely decline

He's learning to trust magic more and more, so if you tell him that you want to embroider a few protective spells into his clothes he will let you do so

Asra

There are so many patterns they want you to try making for them and none of them make sense

He knows a little about sewing, it comes in handy when he's making protective charms

They don't know anything about tailoring though. What do you mean you have to use measurements?

He will happily let you use him as a model if you need to see how something drapes in motion, he can strut like nobody's business

They do have a bad habit of borrowing your dress forms though

Sometimes it's harmless, like when he used them to prop up a blanket fort

Sometimes it's not, like when they enchanted a few for Spirit's Eve and then for the next few months half the children in the neighborhood would cry when they walked past your shop window

Anytime he gets a new article of clothing he's bringing it to you to alter however you want and add his desired enchantments

They will pay you in kisses and trinkets

Nadia

Congratulations, the queen of fashion is your personal muse now, no pressure

Her design input is impeccable and she's familiar enough with the craft to have intelligent conversations about it

She also loves to spoil you, she'll appear several times a week in your sewing room with a bolt of fabric or a pile of lace or some embellishments to give you

Of course these always end up incorporated into some ensemble she inspired and she is flattered every time

She hates to overtax you but you are her first choice if she needs a new outfit for something

Will credit you anytime someone compliments your work, which happens quite often since those are her favorites

Is intrigued by the way you incorporate latent magic into your work

She'll give you a hefty commission to put spells of her choice into the pieces she already has

Mostly stuff to help her focus and keep away bad vibes

Muriel

Like Asra, he knows a little about needle and thread from all the things he used to craft to be sold in the city, and for making protective charms

Clothing is an afterthought for him though, so you being a tailor wasn't very remarkable to him at first

Until you made him clothes that actually fit

He put them on to humor you and then refused to take them off because they're the first new clothes he's had that were made prioritizing his comfort and preferences

After he met Khamgalai and saw the tapestries the Khokuri use to record their history he developed a whole new level of respect for what you do

You're a tailor, not a tapestry maker, but the professions are close enough and you make wonderful observations when he's studying them

When you offer to stitch some protective wards into his clothes for him he falls in love with you all over again

Portia

Between her garden and your tailoring you two are one of the most self sufficient couples ever

She has definitely tried to make her own clothes before and she probably did a pretty good job, she gets you

She is also happy to help out on any projects that involve a lot of plain stitching

On sunny afternoons you'll sit outside with your work while she gardens and that's when you two have the best conversations

You just have to careful around Pepi, because she loves trying to hunt all the dangling things you're always working with

The only time Portia has every truly lost her temper with Pepi was when she got into a project you were working on and shredded it

What's really fun is working on practical new magic ideas together

You've been teaching her to use it in her garden and she suggests handy enchantments for your clothes

Your favorites are the ones that keep the cloth smooth and the thread detangled

Lucio

He doesn't get it at first

Like he loves you and he values you but what, you sit around all day measuring people and poking holes in cloth?

Until he watches you put a whole piece together, start to finish, and that's so cool you can make whatever clothes you want!

He's never seen anybody make clothes before. Will you make them for him too? Will you make him look dashing? Come measure him, he can stand still, feel free to pose him however you please

It needs to be red. Not like red accents. It needs to be red.

It needs more gold. Are you sure that's all you can fit? What do you mean "less is more," obviously more is more!

He's not allowed to make design suggestions any more

He's always had a fascination for magic though so once he finds out how you incorporate it he will bring you *every* piece of cloth he wears and ask for enchantments

[breelandwalker]

Apologies if you've already answered this...

I know you do a lot of extensive warding for your home. What differences have you noticed between a warded and an unwarded living space? I imagine you get fewer negative vibes and shadows and maybe a bit better luck, like a household appliance lasts longer than you'd expect it to. Or is it something else entirely?

Thanks for your time, Bree :)

This is an excellent question and one that doesn't get asked enough, I think. There's always the ubiquitous Ward Your Space advice, but I see very few conversations about the difference in feeling and experience in an unwarded home. (Because after all, there are tons of non-witchy homes out there that don't have wards.)

Personal experiences ahead.

For me personally, it's like the difference between a window that's open to the outside and one that has a screen in it. It's very possible that nothing bad or unwanted will come through the window, but even if you don't have like a raccoon or a wholeass person trying to sneak into your house, you might still get bugs and you're still somewhat open to the elements. So the ward acts like a filter. It won't keep out absolutely everything, but it helps.

The other comparison I can make is an unlocked door. You know, that anxious feeling you get when you're away from home or you hear a weird noise and suddenly all you can think of is did I remember to lock the door? When my wards are threadbare or being actively tested from the outside, that's the feeling I get. Like I left the door unlocked overnight or left a window open when it's about to pour down rain.

So it's mostly a feeling of security.

But in my case, there are also layers in place to take care of other problems. Disruptive energy, unwanted visitors, bad luck, illness, intruding spirits, and baneful or unhelpful magic, among other things. So, compared to other places I've lived or visited, there is a somewhat lower frequency of avoidable accidents, general misfortune, and garden-variety Weird Shit. It's a process I've refined over many years and several homes to try and account for as many controllable variables as I can.

We still have problems, we still get sick, things still break, there's still trouble and disagreements and frustration like there is in every home. Because we're still human and Life Still Happens. But things also seem to take care of themselves in a way. We take care of our home and it takes care of us.

And if you're wondering whether it's jarring when I travel and stay in hotels or other people's homes that don't have the same protections in place - IT IS. But it's really no more troublesome than sleeping in a strange bed.