#not the oldest; but I've been here a fucking long time

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion (Part 3) Zevlor's actions during Act 1, an analysis of a man who is barely holding on:

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BG3.

These series of posts were originally one loooooong post— but apparently Tumblr has a character limit, and I found it; so now it's been split into several parts/posts.

(Part 1) Everybody hates tieflings, and how discrimination impacted a young Zevlor.

(Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladin oath. (Part 2.5)

((Part 3, this post, is where the meat a good chunk of my Zevlor analysis is.))

(Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

(Part 5) Zevlor's actions during Act 3, an analysis of a man with his faith restored.

(Part 6) Zevlor's actions during/ after the epilogue, not all endings are happily ever after— especially not for a tiefling.

(Part 7) Zevlor in a romantic relationship.

I don't think many bg3 players understand just how dedicated and loyal of a person Zevlor is. This ADHD hyper-fixation fueled multipart-thesis is meant to show how Zevlor's past is as tragic as any of the origin characters'/ Durge's. It's meant to show how horrifically broken Zevlor was when he "betrayed" the other tieflings. It's also meant to show that our beloved blorbo would probably be fervently obsessive if he was in a romantic relationship.

Most importantly: It demonstrates how our favorite man Zevlor was most likely a fanatical religious zealot my dudes. He was (probably) a part of the Faerûn equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition lite.

I have kept this as factual as I am able to. Please keep in mind that Baldur's Gate 3 plays it fast and loose with the DND/ Forgotten Realms canon and lore, on top of DND/ the Forgotten Realms itself regularly disregarding and changing it's own lore and canon. DND lore and canon as a whole is a mess. It has multiple universes that sometimes interact and are maybe separate from each other. Full disclosure; I've mixed 1e-5e lore together FUCK 5.5e, because parsing through what is currently considered canon is a nightmare. As far as I'm concerned, as long as a piece of lore was canon at some point in the past 50 years— it's fair game. @y-rhywbeth2 in this post has a more in depth disclaimer. Also please check out their headcanons and lore breakdowns, they're so good.

THIS PROJECT TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE. I've tried to find all grammatical and spelling errors. I've tried to ensure that I've cited the correct sources in the correct places.

Before reading this way to long post please look at itsclydebitches analysis on Zevlor. [Alt] Which provided me with so much insight to his character and kickstarted my obsession with him. Also, @itsclydebitches puts ideas into words better than I do.

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● (Part 1) Zevlor before the events of BG3:

Here is what we know, for sure, about Zevlor:

Zevlor is a tiefling.

Zevlor achieved the rank of commander in the Hellriders.

He survived the city's fall into the Hells.

He was a paladin.

He does not have Darkvision.

Finally, here are the headcanons I have cobbled together based on the available albeit often times conflicting information I have gathered: (Hard facts are in green, everything else is speculation on my part.)

The youngest I would put Zevlor at is his mid 50's. The oldest I would put him at is his late 60's.

So this means that he was approximately 5-15 years old during the vampire crisis. Mentally, these are very formative years for a person. It really isn't a stretch of the imagination to assume that this, along with the miraculous appearance of the companion, set young Zevlor on the path to becoming a paladin and a Hellrider.

There aren't many elderly Hellriders around because most die in the line of duty. To have survived into his old age is a testament to Zevlor's skill, dedication, and luck divine favor.

(AN: In Zevlor's Sleep Stories, "a non-profit project created for and run by fans of Baldur's Gate 3 and its characters.", in episode # 8 - Oathsworn Glenn McCready, the official VA of Zevlor, (I only point out that the stories are narrated by the official VA because I think it's really cool that he and the fans have collaborated on the project. It is not meant to imply that him narrating the project means he has any opinions on how Zevlor is depicted in them, nor is it meant to lend any weight to the Sleep Stories being regarded as canon. Please check it out, it's an amazing project.) narrated a story in which Zevlor was stated to be 10 years old when the Companion first appeared— making Zevlor ~60 during the events of BG3. Zevlor's Sleep Stories is NOT canon, but I'm going to view this one story as canon in my heart; unless/ until Larian releases content/ info that contradicts it.)

This post [alt] by @nightmarist and @space-blue with contributions from @haru-sen is a wonderful source for some history of Elturel, how the Hellriders and Zariel are connected, how paladin's and their oaths work, and an analysis of how being exiled from Elturel changed/ impacted Zevlor's oath.

Zevlor would have had to devote himself 3x more than a non-tiefling Hellrider would've:

Hellriders were held to a high moral standard in a city that already had strict moral codes of conduct.

The Order of the Companion members took the Hellriders dedication a step further by swearing an oath to the city on a god.

Zevlor would have been under intense scrutiny for the crime of being a tiefling. For him to have made the rank of Commander despite this means that he proved, beyond a shadow of a shadow of a doubt, that he was devoted to protecting Elturel.

For added angst I like to headcanon that he had only achieved the rank of Commander a few tendays before Elturel fell into the Hells. And that it took so long for Zevlor to achieve the rank of Commander because he was rejected for promotions in favor of someone who wasn't a tiefling, even if they were less suited for the job than Zevlor was. And that if he wasn't a tiefling then he would've become a commander many years earlier.

Which means that for the entirety of his adult life Zevlor wholly devoted himself to being a Hellrider. He had to forsake everything else, being a Hellrider was his life's purpose.

That level of dedication cannot be faked or forced. He truly believed in being a Hellrider and what the Hellriders stood for/ represented.

And he was thanked for his years of unyielding service by being

● (Part 2) Banished from Elturel:

Zevlor's years of service, his countless sacrifices, and unwavering dedication to the protection of the city and its inhabitants meant nothing to the people of Elturel after the city was returned from the hells. Tieflings looked like the devils that had tormented them in hell (nevermind that the tieflings were also subject to the abuse from devils) and as such they were blamed for the city's Decent into Avernus.

"Many if not all the city's tieflings were exiled from the city, thanks to a new wave of misplaced fear and newly-formed prejudice."

This hatred from the people he loved so dearly didn't lead to Zevlor breaking his oath, it shattered Zevlor's very faith itself. (FFS, I can't find a clip of the Narrator describing Zevlor's time in/ just after Avernus when you click on him when he's in the mindflayer pod in Act 2. Please just trust me on this one.)

Zevlor didn't break his oath, it was broken for him. Hellriders swear to "Serve the realm of Elturgard, and defend the city of Elturel body and soul.", and he was forced to abandon the city.

Earlier in this series I had mentioned how exiled Hellriders were stripped of their gear before being cast out of the city. Zevlor, and the other tiefling Hellriders at the end of the game, still have some of their Hellrider gear. [alt] This makes me think that the other Hellriders refused to completely strip their tiefling family members of their gear because they did not agree with the city's bigoted decision. Letting them keep their gear would have been a subtle hint (and resistance to the city's authority) that the other Hellriders still considered their tiefling comrades as fellow Hellriders.

Whether the exiled tiefling Hellriders were still considered members of the Hellriders by the remaining Hellriders or not, Zevlor was now a

● (Part 3) Refugee:

But Zevlor still had a purpose, he and his fellow banished tiefling Hellriders swore to defend the civilian refugees on their journey to Baldur's Gate.

Tilses, and I assume the other Hellriders, still referred to Zevlor as Commander, and still considered him a Hellrider. She believed that no one could revoke their membership to the Hellriders, but Zevlor did. "They can [take away our Hellrider membership], and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that." - Zevlor

They were attacked multiple times on the road, and they had many casualties, and so Zevlor carried on as he always had— as a paladin sworn to protect his people. The refugees and the other, younger, Hellriders needed him to be a strong leader with unwavering faith, so that's what he was— but it was all an act. An act that got harder and harder to keep up as the days wore on and the rations, and survivors, dwindled.

But then they stumbled upon a possible salvation,

● (Part 4) The Emerald Grove:

They were welcomed in with open arms by the Archdruid Halsin. For the first time in who knows how long the refugees could rest. Sure, most of the other druids seem to barely tolerate the tieflings— but the Archdruid had made his position on their continued sanctuary within the grove clear.

And then the Archdruid Halsin went off with a set of very inexperienced and racist adventures, leaving a woman who could barely hide her contempt for the refugees as temporary Archdruid. Which should have only been for a few days at most, Zevlor knew he could play nice long enough to placate Kagha until Halsin returned, it was fine.

But Halsin didn't return, because he'd been kidnapped. And worse, Zevlor find this out because those inept adventures brought a pack of goblins right to the gate of the Grove.

I think the goblin attack was when Zevlor truly began to crumble. He would've been overwrought with guilt and self-doubt. Had he not spent ~20 seconds berating and interrogating Aradin over leading goblins straight to the Grove, and instead used that time to open the gate, then Kanon's death could've been avoided.

Worse still is that he ordered a man who wasn't wearing any armor to open the gate. Zevlor blames himself for Kanon's death, and he would mentally self-flagellate himself over his own cowardice: How he, a Commander in the Hellriders, took cover while Kanon, a tailor by trade, bravely continued opening the gate while the goblins were firing arrows at him.

After a hard-fought battle, the goblins are defeated. Then Aradin swaggers in acting as though he didn't just do a profoundly stupid thing by leading the goblins straight to defenseless citizens. Not only that, the uppity shithead Aradin blames Halsin for getting himself kidnapped. And then Aradin strikes a nerve, calling Zevlor a coward (and a slur). I think that Zevlor is already contending with his own guilt from thinking that he himself acted cowardly. For Aradin to call him a coward, on top of all the other stupid shit he's been spouting off, is too much to bear, and Zevlor's rage/ self-loathing is about to erupt into violence.

Luckily, the group of actually competent adventures who arrived and saved the day also managed to diffuse the tension between Zevlor and Aradin.

Or not. Leading to Zevlor punching the overtly racist idiot.

Punching Aradin (acting on his inherent desire for violence*, specifically) is something that I believe is wildly out of character for Zevlor. Aradin isn't the first mouthy prick he's come across, and if Zevlor had responded with violence to all of them then he wouldn't have been able to become a Commander. The stress Zevlor's been under has finally boiled over, and now that he no longer considers himself a Hellrider (and is constantly in survival mode trying to keep himself and the other tieflings alive), keeping a tight lid on his anger isn't something he really cares about anymore.

*"Tieflings also had access to an ability known as infernal wrath, which channeled their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness."

I cannot emphasize enough how much self discipline and restraint Zevlor has. His infernal heritage in combination with the overt discrimination he has undoubtedly faced his entire life, plus a healthy dose of pride, are a vicious cocktail of honestly justified anger issues. (AN: Based on him having more physical infernal features than the other tieflings do [alt] I headcanon that he possesses a temper closer resembling a devil's than the less infernal-looking tieflings do.)

Zevlor has been unchained. When it becomes clear that diplomacy won't work Zevlor tells the player that Kagha is their main obstacle, and that without her influence the other druids may see sense. The way he phrases this sentence allows Tav to "read between the lines" and see that Zevlor is open to killing Kagha, while also giving himself plausible deniability. Zevlor didn't suggest murdering Kagha, Tav did. Zevlor is "still hoping that Kagha can be swayed from this madness.", but if not... well, surely Tav understands how "Leaders need to make tough decisions. We do what we must."

Notice how slyly he phrased that— "we", subtly putting himself and Tav in the same category/ on the same team. But most importantly he never outright says to Tav "I want you to kill Kagha", it's implied. His 17 charisma and years of politicking around racism and red tape really shows here; because if shit goes south and Tav fails in their assassination attempt then, even if he has ingested a truth serum, Zevlor can honestly tell the druids that he never asked Tav to kill Kagha. If Tav doesn't suggest killing Kagha then Zevlor doesn't bring it up, and instead asks Tav to take out the goblin camp leaders.

(I am only citing this one dialogue tree option. There are more dialogue tree options, but I can't find videos of them and I am currently unable to play BG3 to explore the different options myself.)

Zevlor is proficient in using manipulation tactics and his knowledge of psychology to garner his preferred outcome. To be clear— I don't think he would have acted in such an underhanded way before being exiled, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I do think that pre-descent Zevlor was no stranger to using manipulation/ his psychological insight to achieve his goals, he would've had to because of the prejudice he faced, but it would've been used for more benign reasons (such as being treated with basic respect instead of open contempt).

(AN: Manipulation in and of itself isn't inherently bad, we all use manipulation to some extent in our day to day lives. So long as they are not abused little white lies and benign manipulations, along with having/ using tact, allow society to smoothly function. Like how saying "Please get me a glass of water." is perceived more favorably, and is more likely to convince a person to get you a glass of water, than "Get me a glass of water." Saying please is considered polite, and people are much more likely to acquiesce to a request if someone is polite. 'You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.' Or how you might wait until after someone has eaten to ask them for something, because they're more likely to agree to your request when they're not hangry.)

Zevlor was once a very proud man, and he had every right to be— becoming a Commander in the Hellriders is a remarkable achievement. Becoming a Commander in the Hellriders in the face of profound discrimination? Nothing short of a triumph. The Zevlor we meet at the Grove is a shadow of the man he used to be. The fall into Avernus and everything that happened after it has sucked most of the life out of him.

We still catch glimpses of the proud Hellrider Commander with the power of god and anime on his side that Zevlor once was. This post [alt] by @dimmadoome demonstrates not only Zevlor's pride, but his infernal temper and possessiveness (which I will cover in a different post). Listen to his speech here. This is a man who has lead his fellow warriors into battle. A man who fought for what he believed in and refused to give up even in the face of insurmountable danger. You can see the hell fire in his eyes blazing bright with righteous fury.

And then there's the speech he gives after defeating Minthara. Note his emphasis on the tieflings being not just survivors, but family. When he says 'family' he has a proud, gentle smile. (His high charisma and experience with giving rousing speeches may be the only reason why his mien changes during this part of his speech, but I think he's being sincere.) If you start that video from the beginning you can see him take a moment to collect himself because he's exhausted, but he knows his people need him to be a strong unflappable leader.

(Did you catch how he quickly pivots from hauteur "Tymora smile on me." to deference "We did it. You did it."? Manipulate, mansplain, malewife the hell out of them Zevlor.)

This portion of the video highlights Zevlor's loyalty to his comrades in arms. He calls Tav family— remember, Hellriders are extremely loyal to one another (and tieflings are very loyal to those who prove themselves trustworthy), this is how he behaved towards all his fellow Hellriders before he has cast out of Elturel. His faith is still broken, but Tav/Durge/Origin has reignited a glimmer of hope in him.

I think this is the only time I've ever seen this poor man actually relax and smile. But then he immediately goes back to looking pensive and walled off. I may be delulu and reading too far into things, but I don't think this is merely his character model returning to its default— I think it demonstrates exactly how Zevlor has been living for years: Silently admonishing himself for letting his guard down and his control slip. Desperately wanting to let go and forget himself and his propriety for a while but being unwilling, possibly unable, to do so.

That being said he does somewhat relax at

● (Part 5) The Tiefling Party:

There isn't a lot to say here. Zevlor isn't imbibing (much) to ensure that he keeps his wits about him— both so that he can supervise the people who are partying, and keep watch for potential threats. Even though he's not partying, Zevlor is elated to see the tiefling refugees smiling and relaxing. He knows that the journey ahead of them is fraught with danger/ trials and tribulations. He even looks the other way when his people spike the punch to make purple drank.

In Early Access to thank Tav for saving them Zevlor made a (bugged) light show where every light in it represented a life that Tav and Co. had saved. The party is the last time Zevlor is happy and hopeful before everything falls apart, as we will see in the next installation of this series: (Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

Here's a link to the master list for this series.

Thanks for reading!

[medicinemane]

To be honest, seeing a post about how since binders are hand wash and that's a pain, old washboards do a good job (did I reblog that?...I forget) really kind of makes me want to get a washboard for my laundry

See... I kind of fucking hate using machines like that for some reason. Like, I don't use the dishwasher, it's so much easier for me to do it by hand (even easier if I get ahold of some good dish rags cause... when I've got a rag I can get things cleaned even quicker and easier)

Just something about the loading and unloading... doesn't work well for me

But using a washboard on the couple things I use (I mean I'm at home a lot, so I don't go through a ton of stuff), and then hanging them on one of those little... like the indoor hanging racks (which I could make if I'd just make it)... that feels easier too me

Hard to get started doing cause... it's... it's a big learning investment, not that it's complex but like... even if you... well even if I know all the steps for something, doing it the first time still is really hard and like learning, I can't say how it is for you

But like, once I started doing it and was used to it I feel like I'd do it a lot more than I'm willing to do laundry in a machine

...I don't know... just thoughts I have. Don't know why I'm like this, but I am

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

heyy can u do a fem reader x slash smut with like daddy kink and praise kink or some shit like that. he’s just so damn fine and also the most recent slash one u did was 10/10 anyways thanks sweetie

A/n: I've had this idea for SO LONG and I needed an excuse to finally write it so thank you <3

Warnings: Smut, age gap, fingering (f receiving), squirting, daddy!kink, praising, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You were living with Duff for University, it was cheaper for you to go to school in a different country and he happened to have signed up to take in exchange students. Duff was an advocate for better education and obviously wanted to do what he could so why not?

He was great and when he found out you were into rock he wanted to introduce you to his band, Guns N' Roses.

He brought you down to the studio just so you could sit around and hang out. You, however, noticed a certain someone paying special attention to you.

Slash had a hard time taking his eyes off of you and you didn't miss the way he continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat every few minutes.

You weren't sure who brought it up since you hadn't been in the room when they were discussing it but Duff told you about Slash's oldest son, London, and said he was around your age so he wondered if you'd want to hang out.

You agreed since Duff and Susanne had been talking about a date night anyway, thus leading to you spending the night at Slash's house.

London was nice enough, you shared some interests and had a fun time but when it got later you retreated to the guest room.

You tossed and turned but you couldn't ignore the sounds coming from the downstairs TV. You got out of bed and made your way towards the noise and found Slash on the couch watching some horror movie from the 1980's.

He didn't seem to notice you until you sat down on the couch. He glanced over at you, shamelessly eyeing you in a band shirt and nothing else. It was big enough to cover you but even so it had him readjusting himself again.

"What're you doing down here?" He asked, keeping his voice low though no one should be awake to hear.

"I heard the TV." You replied simply, gesturing to the glowing light across the room.

Slash pat the spot next to him. "Come closer, no need for you to be over there." You hesitated a moment, biting your lip before moving closer to him.

He had his arm over you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Knowing he enjoyed this you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

You weren't watching the movie and you sure Slash wasn't either, you were too busy thinking about Slash and that musky smell coming from him, his big hands resting on you and the couch. Fuck, you couldn't get him off your mind.

"What do you think you're doing?" Slash asked, not taking is eyes off the TV. You looked up at him with a confused expression on your face. You hadn't even noticed the way you were mindlessly touching yourself, your hand squeezed between your thighs, your hips bucking up every few seconds.

"I-I wasn't- I didn't-" You stuttered, trying to explain yourself and failing.

"C'mere." He ordered, patting his thigh. You moved to sit in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. He hooked your legs over his, spreading them with ease. He ran a hand over your thigh, teasingly tapping your sensitive inner thigh. "Now, why'd you really come down here?"

You bit your lip, back arching at his touch. "Wanted to see you."

"Just 'see'?" He whispered, words falling right into your ear. His hand moved further up, fingers rubbing your clit through you pretty lace panties. "Wet through your fucking panties already." He grinned. "Might as well take them off if they're gonna be that useless, huh?"

You nodded weakly, shifting in his lap to help him take them off of you. You gasped when his calloused fingers touched your bare clit, two rubbing the sensitive bud in circles.

You moaned at the feeling, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. Slash slipped a finger into you and your eyes widened, another gasp leaving you.

Slash shushed you. "Watch your fucking voice." The digit inside you moved at a slow pace, pushing and prodding at your gummy walls until he found that heavenly spongey spot. Once he found it his pace gradually increased.

Your hands clenched and unclenched, begging for something to grip as Slash finger fucked you. "Fuck, just like that." You moaned, voice airy. He inserted another finger and you moaned louder at the stretch. "Oh, fuck, feels s'good."

A warmth grew in your gut, spreading to the rest of your body. Slash groped your chest, plump lips sucking your neck, his thick fingers sliding in and out of you, using your wetness as lube.

"You keep doing that, sweetheart." He muttered, referring to the way your walls kept fluttering around him. "Gonna be a good girl and cum on daddy's fingers." His words fueled the knot growing in you and when it snapped he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your clit.

Your vision went white, you couldn't hear how loud you were being but you felt Slash's free hand slapping over your mouth, you could hear his deep groans in your ear.

Your breathing was heavy and your body was twitching as you came down from your high. "Look at that." Slash's soft voice came in your ear. You struggled to figure out what he was talking about, soon you saw the puddle and splatters on the wooden floor in front of you, the wet spot on the couch more prominent than anything. "I'd definitely like to see that again."

"Dad?" A tired voice called. You panicked and sunk down on the couch, using Slash's broad body as coverage.

"Yeah?" Slash responded, looking over the back of the couch.

There was a long moment of silence before you heard footsteps walking away.

Slash looked down to you. "Fuck was that for?" You chuckled softly and moved back up the couch. Slash gave your thigh a pat. "Why don't you go to bed and I'll clean up for you?" You nodded, leaning against him for a moment before getting up.

You took a step away but Slash pulled you back, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your abdomen. "I'll be seeing more of you soon, right?" You smiled and nodded before heading back upstairs.

You paused outside the guest room, just a little ways further was Slash's room. He was still downstairs cleaning, he deserved a reward for that, right?

You slipped into his room and crawled into his bed. The sheets smelled just like him and you couldn't get the thought out of your mind of him getting in with you, knowing he slept naked.

You pulled a pillow close to you, inhaling his scent deeply before bringing it between your legs and grinding against it, eagerly waiting for him to come find you.

[angelicsoka]

SARA, l. hughes

word count | 1.3k

pairings | luke hughes x fem!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x reader, platonic!jack hughes x reader

summary | luke’s girlfriend has suffered in silence for too long, and luke noticed the warning signs too late

warnings | HEAVY themes of suicide and suicidal ideation, mentions of self-harm and depression, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of blood. ANGST ANGST ANGST, open ending, this is not a happy fic, luke is fucking oblivious. based on the song sara by we three. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended

a/n | this is my first time posting in here so i'm still figuring out how this all works lol. this is NOT proofread. also this is probably the darkest thing i have ever really written.

little sara, you're a diamond in the rough

and i know that you don't hear this all enough

and i'm sure that's why your wrists have tons of cuts

and i'm sure that's why you think you're not enough

fingers traced over the faded scars and onto the raised ones, the urge more than she can handle. but she deserved this. she deserved to feel so shitty, she was shitty. she ruined everything good she had, her relationships and job. a repeated process, be happy for a while and then fuck everything up. “who would care if she fucked one more thing?” was the thought that ran through her head, crimson covering the sink.

your mind can only think about the things it shouldn't

your brain is filled with thoughts of wishing that ya didn't

little sara, perk your ears up, try to listen

but she can't hear a sound because she's locked in a prison

the room was loud, but the noise sounded so far away as she dazed off. she was brought back to reality by luke swinging his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. the sudden movement made her quietly hiss as her arm brushed against him, the fresh wounds in the back of her mind. she forced a smile on her face, looking to luke who gently kissed her forehead. he offered her a beer, to which she took, ignoring the concerned look on quinn’s face. she had been drinking all night  but luke didn't have to know that. it slowed the thoughts, so how could it be a bad thing?

luke began to chat with his brothers and their friends, oblivious to the smile that had dropped from her face. oblivious to the fact that she was practically chugging the beer in hopes to stop the horrible thoughts that had begun to invade her brain once more.

and she was oblivious to the concerned looks of her boyfriend and friends as she abruptly got up, walking outside. she sat down, pulling the cigarette from its box, lighting it. she took a drag, jumping when a voice spoke up:

“you’re killing yourself, you know that?” she whipped her head around to see quinn standing there with his hands in his pockets. “does luke know you smoke?”

“why do you care?” she snapped, turning to look back at the yard. it was quiet, crickets chirping being the only thing making noise. she ignored quinn as he sat beside her, taking another drag. she held back her tears, not wanting to break down in front of her boyfriend’s oldest brother.

“he loves you, you know? the way he looks at you says it all. you're good for him. i don’t think i've seen him this happy in a long time.” she forced a small smile at quinn’s attempt to comfort her. he was lying, he had to be, because who could love a fuck up like her?

all your friends they wanna smoke 'cause it's a friday

but you've been smoking straight probably since last sunday

i know you know you shouldn't say that you are okay

but you still look 'em in the eye and lie then go to use your ashtray

she was high, but when was she not? the boys passed around the blunt, each taking drags from it. they were joking around, jack and trevor wrestling beside her. luke held her close, his fingers gently running down her arm. she ignored the burning sensation that occurred when luke’s fingers accidentally brushed over her wound, a smile plastered on her face. luke seemed to be the only who didn’t notice that the smile didn’t meet her eyes. she huffed out a laugh at a joke made by cole, settling her head against luke’s shoulder. for a moment, she felt happy; carefree. 

that all ended when that singular thought crossed her mind: they hate you. such a simple thought, but she felt as though she had been sucker punched. she subtly shifted off of luke, who seemingly didn’t notice. she twiddled with her thumbs, ignoring the feeling of someone looking at her. she felt jack nudge her, handing her the blunt. she accepted it, unable to really meet his eyes. “you okay?” quinn mouthed to her when she met his eyes. 

“yeah.” she lied through her teeth, averting her eyes and grabbing the ashtray.

little sara, last night, you got it bad

in that moment, you could barely even

add up two or three reasons why you're glad

and i guess that's why you grabbed your pen and pad

it was 6:14, and you could barely even read

all the words you'd written down when it was time for you to leave

your phone was on the ground and you could barely hear it ring

couldn't even hear a sound, couldn't feel a single thing

nights were the worst. being alone in her thoughts led to serious consequences, this night no different. she did what she was suppose to, all the coping skills she had learned. still, she couldn’t come up with any reason to stick around, which is why she now sat at her desk, scribbling rapidly. she couldn’t hardly read the words on the paper, tears cascading down her rosy cheeks as she practically destroyed her desk in search of the blade. the distance sound of her phone ringing stopped her for a moment, the contact name and picture for luke clear on her phone. she pushed the second-guessing thoughts aside, muting the call.

luke swore when she once again did not pick up, the text that started this now open: i love you, lukey. i hope you can forgive me. he swore to himself, angry that he had missed the signs. as he thought about it, the signs were so clear, how could he have not noticed? he begged for jack to drive faster, dialing her number once more. luke wiped his tears as jack sped up, praying for her to be okay. he hoped he would make it in time, to be there when she needed him most.

now it's 6:15, and you're on your knees

blood is on your sleeves, and your lungs won't breathe

eyes are watering, body's shivering

and you're wondering what is happening

now it's 6:23, and they're on their knees

begging "jesus please, can you make her breathe?"

'cause they finally see what was happening

underneath their nose and underneath your sleeves 

she sat against her bed, sobs racking through her body. her chest was tight, her breaths short as she began to lose consciousness. she began to shiver uncontrollably, curling into herself to create any kind of warmth. she looked up when the door was kicked in, her vision blurring. her eyes fluttered close as luke ran to her side, her life slowly leaving her body. 

“get something to stop the bleeding!” luke yelled to jack who was frozen under the doorframe. he snapped out of it, grabbing the blanket that was balled up on her bed. he began to put pressure on her wounds as luke pleaded with her to wake up. they continued this until the paramedics arrived, luke hesitant to leave her side. for the first time in a long time, luke cried into his brother’s shoulder. and he swore to himself that he would never miss the signs again.

she can barely see the pavement

she can barely read the signs

people think she's complicated

but never wanna look inside

'cause she's a little too r-rated

and they're a little too damn blind

she's just looking for her angels

but they're a little hard to find

[farity]

Devil in the Details

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. God."

You turned at your friend Floris's whispered exclamation.

It took you but a second to figure out what she was so excited about.

Aemond Targaryen, the black sheep of the Targaryen dynasty, the reclusive billionaire who looked down at everyone vying for his attention, the man you'd been in lust with since you'd met him five years ago, had actually made an appearance at the glittering charity gala hosted by his mother.

"I need to get his skin care routine," Floris said, biting on her lower lip as she scrutinized Aemond from head to toe. "I'd love to climb that tree tonight."

Good luck with that, you thought to yourself.

You'd been in the same Uni class as his sister Helaena and met Aemond when you'd gone over to work on a joint project. He'd been quiet and almost shy, and you had been instantly smitten.

And had not been able to date anyone in the five years since because all you thought about was Aemond Targaryen.

Not that he gave you a second thought, as far as you knew.

"What the fuck is he wearing?" Floris continued, and, tired of pining after the man, you looked at her and snapped, "why don't you go find out?" before walking away to get your drink refilled.

* * * * *

"We are so very thankful for your family's contribution - the children will benefit greatly," Alicent smiled at you, leaning in to air-kiss you as you said your goodbyes.

You got your coat from the girl at the front, and were about to call for your car when you felt a hand grab your arm.

"Leaving already?"

Your heart began pounding as you recognized Aemond's voice, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you turned to face him.

By the Seven, he looked amazing. He'd shaved off his hair a few months ago when Aegon had done the same after having one too many drinks. Alicent had screamed at her oldest son and out of brotherly solidarity, Aemond had grabbed the electric shaver and started running it along his scalp right in front of his mother.

His eyes bore into yours, the prosthetic eye he had so perfect that you couldn't tell which eye was the real one. Every time you thought about it, you wanted to wallop his cousin, the little shit who had taken Aemond's eye during a childhood fight.

"I've seen enough people to last me a few months," you said, looking at what was, indeed, damn perfect skin, as Floris had mentioned. And was that eyeliner? Because his eyes had never been bluer than they were at that moment.

"Tell me about it," he said, still holding on to your arm, "I was going to grab a drink at the quiet bar next door, if you're game."

There was something vulnerable in his expression and you found yourself nodding and taking the arm he offered. "What in the world are these?" you asked.

He looked down at the latex gloves. "Mother's been berating me for not making an appearance at these things," he shrugged, "so here I am. Maybe she should have specified a dress code."

* * * * *

"You know, there's a name for what you're doing," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Malicious compliance."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that would be me." He looked back up at you, eyes sparkling, "if she'd wanted me to wear a tux, she should have said so."

"Would you have, though?" you prodded, "I have a feeling you would have figured some way to twist that dress code around. You were always the clever one."

"Not so clever if I never got you to go out with me."

You stared at him for a few seconds. "Aemond, you never asked."

"I'm asking now."

He placed a few bills on the table and placed his hand palm up on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh, and then placed your hands on his, and let him lead you out the door.

* * * * *

"How is Helaena liking Naath?"

"She loves it there. She has to get her shot every six months but she doesn't care, as long as she can keep studying the butterflies."

"And Aegon?"

"He stopped drinking after he shaved off his head, said it didn't suit his perfectly shaped skull."

You laughed, remembering Aegon's rather oversized ego, and then stole a glance at Aemond. "What about you? How have you been?"

He shrugged, "the company is doing well, family's good," he looked at you, "and I'm on a wonderful date."

You raised your eyebrows, "oh it's a date, is it?"

You could have sworn he blushed, but he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back. "It very much is, but I do have a problem." He looked at you very seriously. "I need to lose these damn gloves."

* * * * *

It took about twenty minutes of careful tugging and maneuvering but finally, Aemond was free of the gloves and while you got two coffees to keep you going, he headed to the bathroom to wash his arms.

Back on the street, he grabbed your hand in his as he sipped at his coffee. "This is much better."

"So where on earth does one get this sort of getup to shock Alicent Hightower?"

He smiled. "My friend is a stylist and he hooked me up. His girlfriend is a makeup artist and she put all this stuff on my face and hair."

"You look amazing," you said sincerely, "your eyes look super blue."

"I could feel mom's blood pressure spiking as she noticed the eyeliner and highlighter," he laughed. "It was worth it."

"I bet she'll say extra prayers for you tonight."

Nodding, he took another sip of his coffee. "Not enough prayers in the world," he mused. You stopped to drink some of your own coffee and he pulled you closer. "And I really want to kiss you."

You looked up at him, your heart beating faster, and then he placed his coffee cup down, and took your face in his hands. He brushed his nose against yours, not rushing you, and then his lips touched yours. He kept the kiss light and gentle, his fingertips threading through your hair as you sighed against him.

He murmured your name as he wrapped an arm around you. You didn't want this to end, this magical night, and then he spoke again.

"Come home with me."

* * * * *

"You feel so damn good," Aemond whispered in the lift, his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The car stopped and the doors opened, and you stepped into his loft, his hands roaming over your ass as you kicked off your shoes and let him pull you up against him.

"I want you so fucking much," you said against his mouth. He led you to his bedroom and you sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Come here, Aemond," you smiled.

He walked up to you, slowly, and you reached up to undo the fastenings on his leather trousers, keeping your eyes on him. Your hand lightly went over where he was already hard as a rock, and he hissed.

You drew down the zipper ever so slowly, biting down on your lower lip.

"I am going to make you pay for this," he gritted out.

"For what?" you asked innocently, starting to tug down the waistband. When you finally freed him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes, you licked your lips and took him in your mouth.

"Fuck."

"Hmmmm," you moaned around him, relaxing your throat so you could take him deeper. You could hear Aemond's breathing stuttering as you slowly pulled your lips all the way to the very tip of him and then took him back down your throat, hollowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck," he repeated, "I, uh, I can't-"

You felt him suddenly pull you off him and push you back on the bed.

"This is going to end too quickly if you keep doing that, angel."

"Angel?"

"Look at you," he said, indicating your white shimmery gown. "An angel about to be debauched."

You let one strap of the dress fall off your shoulder. "What does that make you, then?"

He lunged for you, hands on the bed on either side of you, and the smile on his face made you shiver.

"Me? I'm already destined for hell, love."

He took your lips, not slowly or gently this time, but desperately, his mouth all consuming on yours as he demanded entrance with his tongue and you willingly gave it. He was tugging down your dress as he kissed you, long fingers deftly maneuvering the yards of fabric until he had bared your breasts and then he pulled back, looking down at you.

You pushed the rest of the dress down until it fell on the floor, then laid back down and extended your arms to him. "Come here, Aemond," you said for the second time that night.

He shoved down the trousers, kicked them aside and spread your legs open before he kissed you again. He was so warm, his skin ablaze against yours, and you pulled him down to you, unable to get enough of him.

He began to kiss your neck, long fingers teasing your nipple, and then his mouth was on your breast and you moaned, the sharp sting of pleasure making you arch against him. He reached down lower, between your thighs, and you gasped.

"Tell me what you like," he murmured against your lips.

"Oh," you breathed as he settled on a steady rhythm, drawing tiny circles on the knot of nerves, "you're doing fine," you managed.

"Fine is not what I'm aiming for," he said, and slipped two fingers inside you and you cried out, your hips beginning to rock against him. "I want you to come for me," he added, curling his fingertips inside you.

"Aemond," you whispered, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing at his hair. "I- I'm-" you pressed your face to his neck a moment before the orgasm barreled through you, your cry muffled against his skin.

You felt him kneeing your legs apart and then he was pushing inside you. As ready as you were for him, he was big, and you bit down on your lower lip, still recovering and still wanting more.

"You can take me," he murmured soothingly as he kissed your temple. "Next time you come, I want to feel it around my cock," he said, and you whimpered as he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

He pulled back slowly, eyes on you, making sure you were okay, and then snapped his hips. You let your head fall back, and felt his teeth on your jaw, raking gently. "So good," he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long," he said as he settled on long, slow strokes. "So fucking long."

"Aemond," you closed your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you beginning to send you back into that delicious spiral.

He reached between you, fingertips finding you and you moaned. "I can feel you," he said, "you-"

You cried out as you came, and felt him grab your hips to steady himself as he reached his own orgasm.

* * * * *

As reserved and aloof as you had always thought him to be, he hadn't stopped kissing and caressing you in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The man was full of surprises.

"Stay with me," he murmured against your cheek. "Tonight."

"How can I go when you've got me completely caged in," you teased, looking down at the arms he had wrapped around you and the way his legs were tangled with yours.

"Damn, I was trying to be stealthy," he smirked back. "We'll get breakfast, maybe I'll let you lure me back to bed again."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Rewriting history, are we? I remember trying to leave and someone grabbing my arm."

His eyes became serious on yours. "If I could rewrite history, I would have grabbed you a lot sooner." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "But I mean to make up for it."

You smiled against him, and let him pull you closer, thinking you were only too happy to let him make it up to you for a long, long time.

[athenaswrath]

Until I Found You - Chapter 2

Quinn Hughes x Reader

Word Count: 851

Chapter 1 >Chapter 2< Chapter 3 Chapter 4

When you arrived at the lake house Quinn wasn't there yet, so they decided he was the one crashing on the couch since there were only three rooms and the rest of you were going to sleep in pairs, so it was Trevor and Jamie, Jack and Luke and you with Holtz

While they played football outside, you decided to take a shower to calm your nerves, knowing that I was going to be with them off work for months felt so different, plus Quinn is going to be here any minute, you've heard a lot about him and while Luke and Jack have said that he's so protective over them and he worries a lot they've said that he's quite grumpy, something Nico, Trevor and Cole have confirmed. So you wanted to make a good impression and hopefully your awkwardness was going to allow it just this one time...

"Fuck" you said after you knocked into someone making them spill their beer all over them. Fan-fucking-tastic, there goes your opportunity to get on the good side of the oldest Hughes. "I'm so incredibly sorry, really let me... I can wash your clothes, and grab another beer for you, I wasn't really looking..."

"It's okay, I was going to take a shower now anyways, is nice to meet you" and right after he said that he left and closed the door of the room you just left. To say you were panicking was an understandment the least thing you wanted to do was to make things awkward, he was probably going to complain about you to Jack and Luke, I mean you were the only girl and they were already going to hold some things back because of that...

you don't know how long you've been standing on the corridor when Holtzy grabbed your face "Belle you okay? did you see Huggy?"

"yes... yeah he's.. he said he was going to take a shower" I said pointing at the door while looking down at the wet floor, he followed my sight and I saw understandment flashing on his face "go help the boys downstairs before they set the house on fire I'll clean this... nope, I'll do it" he said before I could interrupt him

When I entered the kitchen the boys were emptying the fridge (Ellen so kindly stored beforehand) trying to find something to defrost. So I sent them to set the table while I prepared something, Jamie being his usual self (a sweetheart that is) came to help me, we've only met a couple of times and for a very short time but he was so easy to get along with. This was the first time he tagged along too, only cause him and Trevor missed each other with Jamie being on the Flyers now. Almost an hour later we took everything to the table where four giant whiny babies were waiting for the food.

We were starting to eat when I heard Quinn running downstairs "Too late, food's gone Huggy Bear" Jack said when he came into view, "This is y/n by the way be nice, I actually like her"

"Wow didn't know you were capable of liking other than yourself" Trevor told him but Jack answered "oh please as if you were any better, you can't even act as if you cared for others" and obviously Trevor's sassiness attacked "because I don't" Jamie, Holtzy and I just looked at each other and smiled.

"Since you won the cup you're less talkative, are you too much for us now Cap?" Trevor told the oldest Hughes while smirking, he knew what he was doing, Jack always tells me that Zegras' favorite pastime is getting on Quinn's nerves "I've always been too much for you Zegras but I'm glad you finally accept it".

They kept throwing snarky comments and while I was glad Quinn didn't mention anything about our encounter, I was still worried that he was upset, so while everyone was getting ready to go to bed, I went downstairs to find Quinn.

"Hey" I said softly "you should go upstairs and sleep there, I mean is your room after all. Holtzy is there but I'm sure Jack or Lu wouldn't mind switching" when he didn't answer I looked at him and he had a small frown while looking intensely at me.

You were caught off guard by the momentary awkwardness that seemed to radiate from him, not used to seeing a Hughes in any other way than the confident and playful boys.

"Thank you, but it's okay if you sleep there. And... I'm sorry, I... What happened earlier was my fault, so you don't have to blame yourself for it, it is nice to finally meet the girl which my brothers feel so close to" he gave me a small smile and headed upstairs where Luke was yelling for him.

With my heart beating slightly faster than usual (which was fast enough already) I slept that night besides a snuggling Holtz, feeling hopeful about having a good time with everyone and a non-uncomfortable interaction with Quinn.

_________________________________________

Note: didn't love this chapter but now that Quinny finally met the reader I'll have more inspiration. Also there's going to be dual POV in the next chapters.

If you have suggestions or you see a mistake (english is not my main language) please let me know!

[vanvelding]

I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

[leiawritesstories]

Mom, Please!

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompts "Lake" & "Splash"

Word count: ~1k if you squint 😂

Warnings: swearing, teenage antics, Rowan getting grey hairs from stress

Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I hear footsteps," Aelin mumbled, half-drowsy.

"Go back to sleep, Fireheart," Rowan mumbled back, burying his face in her hair. "It's probably just a rabbit or something."

"At---" She cracked her eyes open and stared at the fuzzy numbers on the clock across the bedroom. "One in the morning?"

"Mmmh, fine." Her husband attempted to push himself upright and flopped back into bed with a groan. "Dammit!"

She kissed his shoulder. "Don't throw your back out, old man. I'll go check on things." Aelin pushed herself out of bed and tucked the covers up over her sleepy, grumpy husband, who grumbled something about I'll show you a thrown-out back as she stepped into her slippers and crept out of their bedroom.

The hallway of the lakeside cabin was dark and silent, broken by strips of silvery moonlight filtering in through the skylights. Aelin came into the living room and paused, wondering why the hell the sliding door that led to the patio was cracked open. Had one of the kids forgotten to close it?

And there were those damn footsteps again.

Slowly, she crept up to the windows and nudged the curtain aside just enough to peer out and find---"Gods above, Mom!"

"Holy shit, Lana!" Aelin and her oldest daughter screeched at each other at the same time, and Aelin leapt back from the window as if it had slapped her, wishing she could scrub the sight of Lana and her boyfriend playing tonsil hockey out of her eyes. "Fucking hell," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. "It's too damn late for this."

There was a rustling outside the house, and a very sheepish Lana snuck back inside through the patio door to find her mother sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. "Mom?" she ventured. "Are you...okay?"

Aelin grumbled something incoherent in reply.

Lana discreetly tugged her sweatshirt's hood up, relying on the shadows it cast over her neck. "Um, Mom?"

"I'm fine," Aelin mumbled. "Just gonna have to tell Yrene about this. You could've at least mentioned that Cal's family was here too."

"I didn't know he'd be here," Lana whispered, blushing an adorably bright pink. "He surprised me."

"Pebbles on your window and all that romantic shit?" Aelin teased.

Lana grinned, her smile a mirror of her mom's. "Yeah."

"Can't hardly blame you, then." Aelin stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed before your overbearing father decides I've been gone for too long and hurts himself trying to find his way down the hall in the dark. G'night, sweetheart."

Rowan, of course, was awake when she came back into the bedroom, fumbling for his glasses. "Stop that, buzzard."

He sighed and flopped back into bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just Lana and Cal tangling tongues out behind the patio." She turned onto her side and fluffed up her pillows.

Strangled wheezing erupted from Rowan, and Aelin flipped back over to rub her husband's back until his shock dissipated. "The fuck?" he croaked.

She chuckled and handed him his water. "You know, Lana's boyfriend?"

"I know who," Rowan grumbled. "When? How? Why?"

"Ro, honey, you really don't want me to answer any of that." She kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."

~

The summer sun shone brightly over the lake, and Aelin lounged comfortably in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the laughter surrounding her family.

"Owww! Get away from me!" The shrill shriek was accompanied by a pair of feet sprinting towards Aelin and a smaller body taking refuge behind her chair. "Mom, Bran keeps shooting his stupid water gun at my face!" It was Charlotte, their third child.

"It's not my fault you're afraid of your stupid lashes falling off!" Bran, who was nearly sixteen, yelled back at his younger sister.

Indignant, Charlotte gasped and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. At fourteen and a half, she was the most strongly opinionated of the Whitethorn kids, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "You take that back!" she demanded, and when Bran told her to make him, she picked up a nearby bucket and headed for him.

Aelin opened her eyes and watched her wildfire daughter dump a whole bucket of lake water over her oldest son's head, which resulted in him screaming like a little girl because a frog had happened to be in the bucket and had now found a new home in the back of Bran's swim trunks. She chuckled to herself.

"Kids these days," Lana fake-sighed as she walked past, three more baby frogs cradled carefully in her hands.

"Says the kid who snuck her boyfriend over in the middle of the night," Aelin deadpanned.

Lana's face went scarlet. "Mom, please! Everyone can hear!"

"Just like last night," Aelin added. She winked. "Uncle Fen would be so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Oh my gods," Lana groaned. "You're the---"

"Are those frogs?" A younger voice broke into the conversation, eager eyes peering at Lana's hands. Rielle Whitethorn, the older of the twins by three and a half minutes, jumped up, trying to see the little frogs as Lana put her hands up higher. "I wanna see the frogs, Lana!"

"Shhh!" Lana shot a look over towards where Bran and Charlotte had moved their water gun fight into the lake, joined by Cal and two of his brothers. "I'm gonna dump them on Bran's head." She winked at her little sister. "Wanna join?"

"Hell yeah!"

Aelin lowered her sunglasses. "Rielle Enna Whitethorn!"

"Sorry, Mom." Rielle was ten, and she and her twin brother Declan were like sponges around the older siblings that they idolized. She ran off, following Lana down to the lake, and Aelin watched with her smile hidden behind her book as the two of them crept up behind Bran and successfully released the frogs onto his head.

He howled and scrambled frantically, arms flailing, until he finally gave up and ducked beneath the water to get the frogs off of his head. Aelin snickered, beyond pleased that her children had inherited her fondness for fun little pranks.

Down in the lake, Cal slung his arm around Lana, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear that made her shake with laughter, and pressed his---

"Gods above," Aelin groaned, shoving her face into her book.

Not again.

~~~

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[corrupte3d-mindz]

Uncharted Territory

Billy Kimber’s Daughter

Possessive! Thomas Shelby x Reader Kimber

Summary: Your first encounter with Thomas Shelby, and your relationship between the two of you a month later.

WordCount: 3.1k

Stable, was all you could say about your relationship with Thomas Shelby. Relationships with him weren’t unknown but there were very few who stuck around for longer than just a night. Thomas was one who sought after you, after that faithful day at the Garrison; you shouldn’t have even been there but your father insisted. However he said to stay in the car and wait, after this little meeting with the man who fixed a race; you needed to get your dress for the derby the following evening. Remembering that day like it was the night before.

“Right, he’s the oldest, you’re the thickest. I’m told the boss is called Tommy and I’m guessing that’s you cos’ you’re looking me up and down like I’m a fucking tart”

The door behind your father creeks, and he turns his head before lowering it in disappointment. Thomas, Arthur, and John all move in their seats to look at the person, John put his hand on his gun belt along with Arthur.

“you’re just like your mother.”

Kimber notices their hands on their gun belts, clearing his throat and gently pulling you behind him he looks at them.

"I'm gonna have you shot against a pole if you don't take your fuckin' hands off the guns. She means no harm; just insanely impatient."

Thomas noted your small frame and waved for his brothers to stand down.

"Women ain't part of this deal, Kimber." pausing, looking back at you "You and I both know that all too well."

"So, why'd you bring her in the first place?"

"Well, I thought this bloody meeting would be over quick, didn’t I? Instead of wasting time going back home to fetch her for those measurements for the new dress for the derby tomorrow, I just brought her here. Told her to stay in the car, didn't I?”

“You said it would be over by 10, it’s 11 now!”

Gritting your teeth and biting your tongue before you said anything else, but Thomas stood up and asked Kimber to move so he could see you.

"Is this what you handle? All day long?" Thomas stares at you, eyes cold and calculating, before turning the Kimber, his voice low and dangerous."Is she with anyone?"

"Oh, bloody hell no, she's not dating unless the lad can offer her what I've given her growing up... and that ain't happened yet, has it?"

“No..no it hasn’t”

“Kimber I’ve never seen her at the races before, you hiding her?”

Kimber looked at him before smiling

"She stays put where I'm at, see? She don't get the choice to wander when I ain't around."

Clearing your throat, and standing in with your back facing your father. You spoke up about your feelings.

"‘E's fuckin' stupid, that's what it is."

"Another reason why she can’t walk around, she runs her mouth like a bloody sailor. It makes me look bad."

Kimber runs his fingers through your hair and fixed it to his liking

"Oi, what's her age, then? Legal, ain't she?"

Kimber thought about it for a second, before nodding and saying you’re nineteen.

"Aye, you reckon you can handle her, lad? I'm warning you, she may seem calm now, but she ain't one for stoppin' and listenin'. It's like there's no brain up there, I tell ya."

You bit your tongue before deciding it was worth it.

“I have a fuckin' brain, I was top of my math class”

"Sweetheart, I'm just givin' you a hard time about it. I know you're extremely smart with numbers, but actin' proper, is where ya’ struggle."

“Should I meet the description of what you want in a partner, then I shall court her to seal this deal. Sound like a plan?"

Thomas sat back down his chair and pulled out a cigarette and lighter then lighting it.

“It'd be a smart move, but it's her call. 'Cause this is for your gain, not mine."

His eyes fixed onto yours

"Tell me, love, what's your verdict?" Thomas exhales smoke slowly, his gaze unwavering, piercing through the veil of the Garrison.

And the rest was history, the derby ‘date’ went outstandingly well for us. Thomas was very kind and generous with you, your father even let you and him walk around alone instead of being cooped up in the box you normally sit in. The deal was agreed upon after that day and he could see I was delighted to have someone different to talk to besides him or the maids. The most memorable thing of that day was the kiss you shared after he said goodbye to you, it felt real and intimate and not like it was false. Thomas learned you really loved riding horses, painting, and of course cooking. Meeting him felt like putting the last piece of a puzzle together.

Stopping by the Marquis Pub on your way home, well Thomas’s home. One of your favorite bartender Nicolas Tennant was in that pub and you loved talking to him about your relationship with Thomas and how it was going. You felt like celebrating for an odd reason but why ignore it.

“Ello’ Nicolas how’s the family doing?”

Nicolas looked up and stuck his head out from behind the bar top, with a great big smile that could cut through paper.

“Oh, miss Kimber how are you doing today?, and the family is doing well”

“I’m feeling really grand to the point where I feel like celebrating”

The both of you chatted and caught up with each other’s lives and then you asked;

“Do you happen to have a bottle of red wine and Irish whiskey?”

He smiled at you once again before nodding his head and turning around to head to the back of the pub. Suddenly, you felt a sense of despair and pain looming over you and you turn around to see a man who’s about a foot taller than you and drunk.

“I’ll pay you £10 to have you for the night, come on baby what’do ya say~”

“No, thank you. I’m not one of those”

“Every woman is if you pay them enough, come on..”

“I’ve said no! I’m seeing someone!”

"Oi, come on now… I'm tellin' ya, I'm taller than 'im, stronger, faster, and bigger, yeah? Jus' give me a chance, love. Why you wastin' time with 'im? I got the money. Don't be daft, let's 'ave a good time, eh? You won’t regret it, I swear!"

Taken aback by this statement you leaned into the bar top, but you couldn’t move any further. The man wrapped his hand around your waist and brought your hips against his. You put your hands up against his chest and pushing away from him.

Nicolas walked back to the bar top with the liquor in a brown paper bag. Shocked by the sudden change in the atmosphere he spoke up;

“Are you fuckin’ suicidal mate?, that’s a Kimber!”

The man pushed off of you and stepped back, beads of sweat started to roll down his face. He immediately looked at you and got on his knees to beg for his life. It was truly disgusting, you felt dirty. The man noticed your face and decided it would be better if he just left and he did, leaving the pub. Looking back at Nicolas he was sweating as well, he knew that his life was on the line since this happened in his presence. He puts the bag with the bottles on the counter and then says;

“Now, it’s on the house for your troubles..”

“Oh, you really don’t have too, but can I borrow your phone in the back?”

“Sure go right ahead”

The adrenaline rush of what just happened was still rushing through your veins, felt like an adaptation of a stroke mixed with a heart attack. The feeling of being in a state where you couldn’t defend yourself was playing on loop, reminding you that you’re weak. Picking up the phone and sitting down on the desk in the dark and dimly lit back room picking up the receiver and dialing Cheshire 9210. The phone rang twice before picking up and on the other end was Thomas.

“_______ where are you, e’s everythin’ alright?”

“….there was a problem with some guy and-“

You could hear Thomas’s breath exhale when he heard that, cutting you off he asked in a tone that was masking his true nature.

“_______ what’s the man’s name?..”

“I don’t know the man’s-“

You heard a door creek and looked in the sound’s direction, it was Nicolas; apparently he was leaning against the door and pushed it open. Red in the face he looked at you.

“His name’s Lenny Davis, he’s one of my regulars”

Smiling and mouthing the word thank you before waving your hand for him to go away.

“It’s Lenny Davis..”

“Alright, that’s all I needed”

Thomas hung the phone up, you sat on the desk for a couple of minutes before hopping down and heading back into the public space. Nicolas looked like he was already writing his last will and testament. Bless his heart you thought, his pub was a lovely one; maybe you could have him spared since he had spoken up to the man.

“Stop, calm down..I won’t let Thomas go this far”

You said while pointing around the pub, the Marquis was a lovely pub and you loved talking to Nicolas.

“Your all too kind to be in this town”

“I know..”

You stood in the front driveway, just standing there for a bit while look around at the cars to see whose missing. He was..great. But it wasn’t all bad at least you knew Ada was there. Oh how you loved talking to Ada, she could understand the feeling of being a Shelby and having eyes on you as soon as you left the home.

You still were getting used to the Arrow Head House, it was a bit bigger than your childhood home. You’d moved in a week after being with him. He wanted to be able to watch you more than anything. Possessive little fucker.

“_______, where on earth have you been?”

“Ada! Oh it’s so good to see you!”

Ada opened her arms and walked over to you, giving a big hug.

“Whatcha’ got in that bag?”

She asked while pointing to it.

“Whiskey and red wine”

“Did yah buy it?” Ada started to walk into the hallway making a signal to follow. “You know Thomas doesn’t like when his woman buys things for him that he can get for himself..”

Pausing and placing the brown bag with the bottles in it on one of the hallways side tables.

“That’s the fing’ i got ‘em on the house”

“How did ya’ fuckin’ do that?”

“Thomas didn’t say anything about my whereabouts?”

Ada rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“That’s the fing’ you know they don’t tell me anythinf”

Sighing you picked up the bag and pulled out the wine bottle.

“We can mull it over with this, because yah gonna need it.”

“Alrigh’ I’ll be in the den waiting for you..”

Time passes by and eventually you come down the grand staircase in a set of nightwear that had been embroidered with little roses. Thomas got it for you. You joined Ada in the den.

How many of ‘em left?”

“Obviously, Thomas but John, Arthur, Finn, Micheal, Isaiah and Jonny Dogs..”

Ada took a sip of wine, letting it mull over in her mouth.

“What fuckin’ happened?”

You smiled and held I finger up while taking a sip of wine as well.

"I was at the Marquis, fetching the whiskey and wine, and while I was waiting, some drunkard named Lenny Davis started pestering me. I felt utterly disgusted with myself because I could have called out for help. But he took me for a prostitute and kept pushing, relentless. It wasn't until Nicholas returned and shouted that I was a Kimber and a Shelby associate, that Lenny finally backed off."

Ada’s eyes went wide for a moment, before she took another sip of wine.

“Yeah, he’s fucked..”

“You swear they didn’t say anything to you before they left?”

“_______, honey I love you a lot but I told you what I know..which is nothin’..”

Ada stood up and held her finger up before the wine glass down and disappearing into the hallway, you heard her rumbling footsteps as she came back to eyesight. She had a small pink little box with a ribbon tied in a bow around it and it was white.

"Oh, how could I forget. Your father paid a visit earlier to leave a gift for you. He stayed for a little while but then left with them once Tommy got off the phone wit’ yah.”

Ada handed you the box and you placed it by your side.

“He joined them…?”

“I know right, it felt odd seeing ‘em all, for one reason..it looked like a circus act watchin’ pile into the car”

Suddenly you heard the unique sound of an engine purring, Ada and you froze. Looking at eachother’s eyes, both standing up. Ada picked the bottle up and poured the rest of the wine into both glasses.

“I knew this bottle wasn’t going to last this night..”

You heard the car doors shutting.

“Please don’t let there be a lot of blood on their clothes”

Ada rolled her eyes while setting the glass down.

“_______, honey I love you but you always ask for the obvious to not happen.”

“Are you sayin’ I can’t have hope?”

“Hope isn’t a thing if you’re a Shelby”

The grand entrance doors opened with help from the maids. The footsteps only got louder and louder as they all made their way to the den. You looked down at the carpet, then where they would be coming from.

"Don’t you dare come into this room! I do not want blood on my carpets! You and your lot can clean yourselves up outside first!"

Thomas spoke up with a small laugh.

"We weren't planning on bringing him in there, love. Don't worry, we'll sort it out elsewhere."

"You brought him into our home?! Look at the state of you!” then it finally registered that this man was in your home "YOU BROUGHT HIM INTO OUR HOME?!" you hissed, your eyes wide with alarm as you glanced nervously at the bloodstained men entering the house.

This man was..roughened up while they were on their way to Arrow Head..he wasn’t dead but he just..there. The smell of iron started to fill the air causing you to cough a little. Alarm bells rang through your head when you looked at Thomas..his were shaking a bit, knuckles were bloodstained. Your father stepped through the group as his looked at your face, he could tell you were afraid. Kimber fixed his shirt collar. Drenched in sweat, god it looked disgusting. Thomas spoke up and a dry voice.

"My love... he hurt you. He chose death for doing so."

"Get him out of here, Thomas! I won't have you bringing that violence into our home!" You hissed at him , your voice trembling with anger and fear.

"I'm just protecting you. None of this would be possible without me by your side."

"That's not the point, Thomas! I can't bear to watch a man die in front of me, especially not like this!"

"Alright boys, take ‘em to the basement. turning to look at the empty wine bottle and then Ada. Ada, I recommend you leave me alone with _______”

Thomas stood in the dimly lit room, the weight of his actions hanging heavy in the air. His love, shaken and wide-eyed, had just seen the aftermath of his brutal world—a world he had always tried to shield them from. The tension was palpable, the room thick with the scent of blood and the echoes of violence. Seeing the fear and distress etched on their face, Thomas felt a pang of guilt. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. “Look at me.”

"All I ever wanted was to protect you, love. Everything I do, it's for you."

"Thomas... you frightened me. You know I can't bear seeing what those men look like after you've dealt with them."

He gently reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. With a tenderness that seemed almost out of place for the ruthless leader of the Peaky Blinders, he guided you into his arms. “It’s alright,” he whispered, cradling their head against his chest, his hand moving to stroke your hair in a rhythmic, calming motion. Thomas took a deep breath, his own heartbeat steady and reassuring. “You’re safe,” he continued, his tone firm yet comforting. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.” He paused, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“I know what you saw was…horrible,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “This life, it’s not what I wanted for you to see. But sometimes, it’s necessary.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and sincere. “I need you to trust me. To believe that I’m doing everything I can to protect us. To protect you.” His hand continued its soothing motion, petting your hair as he drew her even closer, creating a cocoon of intimacy amidst the chaos. “I would burn the world to the ground before I let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet each word resonated with fierce conviction.

In the embrace, he allowed you to lean into his strength, to find solace in the arms of a man who, despite his ruthlessness, loved you with an intensity that defied the darkness surrounding them. The world might be brutal, but in that moment, with Thomas holding you, you found a sanctuary where fear had no place. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet infinitely gentle. The roughness of his palms contrasted with the softness of your skin, a reminder of the harsh world he inhabited and the tenderness he reserved solely for you. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, wiping away the trace of a tear.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “I need you to know how much you mean to me. More than anything.”

With a final, reassuring stroke of your hair, he leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with a thousand unspoken promises. His lips moved over yours with a tenderness that belied the brutal world outside, each kiss a silent vow of his love and his regret for the pain he had caused you. He poured everything into that kiss—his need to protect you, his sorrow for your distress, and the fierce love that drove him to such lengths. His hands slid to the nape of your neck, holding you gently yet securely, as if anchoring you to him in the midst of the turmoil.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in steady, calming waves. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, his voice rough with sincerity. “But I swear to you, I’ll always be here. Always.” In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of what had happened, the kiss was a beacon of their connection, a testament to the strength of their bond amid the darkness.

Author Notes:

I made the little pictures and added smoke along with the little sparkles! Oh my gosh it’s so freaking cute!!

Please don’t harp on me for the phone number and yes it’s at the arrow house instead of the beginning of where they stay, Thomas just made bank after you became a couple.

Love yah!

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Fucked."

Author: it's been a long while since I've written anything, but my latest obsession with Sandor turned out into this. I hope you enjoy it! If you do so, let me know, I might continue their story!

Part 2 to this here

Link my masterlist

Y/N Stark was not an ordinary girl. Well, at least she was not what people in Westeros considered a 'proper' girl. She didn't like sewing, prefering to be outside practicing sword fighting or archery. She didn't enjoy dances or wearing fancy dresses, finding herself much more comfortable in other (sometimes much bloodier) scenarios. Being the oldest Stark, she is aware she was supposed to be married by now. She had turned down about 5 proposals of marriage, much to her mother's disgrace. Y/N didn't want to marry some butterfingered knight with the only purpose of getting knocked up. She had yet to meet a man who made her feel hot and bothered in the right places. Until that day.

The first time Sandor saw her, he knew she was going to be trouble. It happened when he visited Winterfell along with the King and the rest of the fuckers. When he took off the helmet and looked up, meeting her eyes, he felt something he had never felt before. It couldn't be love. Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane only knew hate. He didn't believe in love, let alone love at fucking first sight. But, when she smiled at him, all he could think was "I'm fucked."

After looking for him for a while, he found Sandor by the stables, leaning on a wall with a drink in his hand. She felt the same butterflies in her stomach she had when she saw him for the first time that morning.

"Don't enjoy a party?" Y/N asked with a smirk.

He turned his head in her direction, hoping it was not who he thought it was. When he saw her, he had the same feeling as this morning, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Prefer to be alone." He grunted, looking away.

His hoarse voice made her feel things she shouldn't be feeling.

"I'm Y/N Stark." She said, bowing. "And I won't bother you, Ser. Drinking alone next to horse shite seems like a fantastic plan."

Sandor looked at her again, finding a smug smirk in her face. Gods, that smile. "I'm no Ser. And you shouldn't be outside this late."

He stood up straight, which made her able to realize his actual height. He was huge compared to her. Well, compared to pretty much everyone.

"Oh, don't worry about me." She said. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you, now?" He let a little smirk show. He shouldn't be talking to her, let alone fucking flirting. What's wrong with him?

"Perfectly, eh..." She made a pause, suggesting him to introduce himself. She had to know the name of the man who's making her feel this way.

"Sandor." He said. "Sandor Clegane."

"I'll leave you to it then, Sandor Clegane." She turned to leave, looking at his lips for a few seconds beforehand. "Good night."

Watching her leave, all he could think about was the sound of his name, his real name, on her lips, and he wanted to hear it over and over again.

"Good night, little wolf." He whispered.

He avoided her as much as he could the following days, thinking that if he didn't see her, the feeling would go away. Yet, all he could think about was the movement of her legs as she walked away from him that night, her gaze on his lips, her own lips... It was driving him mad.

Y/N knew he was not going to initiate anything, so she decided to take the matter into her own hands. If he didn't want her, he would have to tell her himself.

Sandor was on the way to his chambers when he felt a hand on his forearm, dragging him into a room nearby. He tightened, motioning for his sword, but soon relaxed as he realized who it was.

"The fuck you doing?" He grunted, scanning the room. It looked like a storehouse of some kind.

"Well, hello to you too." She said, sarcasm evident in her voice and a smirk on her face.

He stood there, taking a look at her. The light in the room was dim, but he could appreciate her figure. She wasn't scared of him or disgusted by his face. Instead, she was standing there, teasing him, with that fucking smile on her face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you." She started. "But it seems we don't seem to happen to meet."

"Here I am." He says, his voice low and husky. "Talk."

She feels her nipples become hard at his tone, and she bits her lip.

His gaze moves to her breasts, his cock becoming hard at the sight. She's standing there, biting her lip, and looking at him with a look that makes him weak in the knees.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dove..." He sighs, taking a step towards her. He shouldn't, and he knows.

She instinctively takes a step back, meeting a wall. Looking up at him, she finds the courage to talk. "What are you going to do, big boy?"

He places a hand above her head on the wall, leaning into her. "Tell me to stop, Y/N." He whispers, their mouths approaching. "Tell me to stop because if you don't, I don't think I'm..."

She interrupts him by pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, kissing her back.

She throws her arms around his neck and, in response, he picks her up, her legs around his waist. She feels his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for permission, which she gladly gives him.

"Sandor." She moans against his lips.

"Fuck." He grunts, pressing her harder against the wall and moving his lips to her neck.

They make out for a few minutes. He doubts he's ever been harder and judging the sounds Y/N is making, she's pretty affected as well. This makes it really hard for him to stop, but he has to.

"Little wolf, I really don't want to stop, but we need to." He says against her lips. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Sandor, I want you." She moans, kissing him again. "I don't care about my father, about my brothers or the fucking King."

This makes him laugh and he leans his head on her shoulder. "I'm not fucking you in a storehouse."

She groans desperately. "Why not?"

He laughs again, setting her on the ground. "Because I'm pretty sure you're a virgin." He starts, and she blushes. "Because you're Y/N Stark." He caresses her face. "And because I don't deserve you."

She frowns. "It's not for you to decide who I fuck, Sandor. I am a virgin, and I am Y/N Stark."

Sandor sighs.

She holds his face. "I hadn't felt this way about anybody in my life. I hadn't felt an urge to kiss someone, to be near someone."

He knows exactly what she's talking about, because he's feeling the exact same, so he leans in and kisses her. The kiss is different from the ones before, it's sweet.

"I'll come find you tonight." He whispers against her lips.

He turns, opening the door and holding it for her. She smiles at him, kissing him one more time before leaving. He stays in the room, smiling to himself. He is indeed fucked.

Part 2 here

[vee-crytraps]

Kiss Me More | Ch 1 | {Groan}

SUMMARY: It’s been twelve long years since you were the sad little girl tugging on the tails of your adoptive father’s coat.

Your brothers take notice. AN: New to posting fics on Tumblr, feel free to read here or over on Ao3 under the username VenusCrytraps. Same bat time, same bat channel.

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist}

And yeah, i wanna spend the night with you Yeah, i wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because i've never really known But i pinky promise you i'm grown And i wanna know what it feels like

You’re deep in your head as you lean forward in your vanity’s mirror, lightly dabbing away the smeared lipstick at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger. You don’t notice the creak of your door as it opens, and the protest of the frame as one of your many adopted siblings leans against it.

You don’t see the range of emotions he cycles through- some visible on his face, and others happening only in his head, behind those stormy green eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t think so.” Jason scoffs to himself after a minute, startling you. The tension drains from your shoulders as you turn around to see him standing there, all geared up in his Red Hood uniform sans the armor and that goofy fucking helmet of his. Your surprise has less to do with the atrophied instincts you’ve barely managed to keep from your two weeks as Robin back in the day, and more to do with the strangeness of Jason serving you his best impression of Dick’s Blue Steel, A.K.A, his ’Concerned Big Brother’ face. Something your oldest brother pulled so often, he could have it patented. It looks totally ridiculous on Jason, a dude you legitimately haven’t seen out of his uniform since he was welcomed back into the family. You think to yourself that he must be doing his rounds, doing his best to repair the dynamics that were lost when he died, and soured when the pit left him more than a little trigger happy.

Still, you remind yourself of Dick’s advice, to reward vulnerability and welcome these moments. Jason was supposedly quite fragile beyond his hulking form.

You sighed. “What can I do for you?”

There was some lingering awkwardness around the fact that he’d briefly dedicated his life to ending your dads, but if Bruce could trust him enough to welcome him anywhere near the Batcave, you supposed you could, too. He was trying his best, after all. You just wish he’d take it elsewhere, for once.

Still, you’ll play along.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dressed like that, was the implication that hung in the air. You’re smart enough to fill in the blank. He’s smart enough to let you.

“Out.” You turn around, unable to help but be a little bit guarded about this particular line of questioning.

God, on all the nights…

Turning your back to him, you casually resume your preening. He doesn’t at all remember you being this stubborn, but he’d died and come back to find you a whole lot older than he remembered.

“Out,” Jason repeated, exhaling heavily as he pushed off the doorframe. Jason was your age, once. He knew all about ‘out’. When he was in your shoes, going to Gotham Academy, making those fancy friends with more money than sense, ‘out’ meant joyriding around, bar hopping with fake ID’s and hooking up with fast, socialite girls wearing skirts not unlike the one you sported as you shifted in your plush vanity seat.

“What’s his name?”

“Are you still here?”

It slips out of you before you can remind yourself of Dick’s instruction to give Jason the room and encouragement he needed to be a part of your life again. As if he were a scared cat, and not a six-foot-something giant with the wrong kind of bodycount.

You try again, but it doesn’t come out any more cordial. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting you to look so…grown up. His gaze flickered over you, over the short skirt and lace trimmed cardigan you were wearing. Over the way you applied that mascara and eyeliner with practiced skill and patience.

You were beautiful. God damn it, Bruce.

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you falter. His unreadable stare pulls the plug on your brat-ittude. A sigh escapes you.

“I’ll be careful, Jay. I promise.” You mumble, capping your eyeliner with finality as you give into this game of house he insisted on playing with you. When your eyes finally flicker up to meet his again, something in them seems…changed. The expression he wears is no longer unreadable. You recognize it, but can’t seem to place it. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you, but it’s been just as long since you were able to get a good look at him, too.

And then it’s there, again. The guilt and shame that coils within you as you notice the way his arms bulge under the brown leather of his jacket, the set of his strong jaw and the pout of his full bottom lip. You want to bash your head against your vanity. Tonight was supposed to be your night to get away from this feeling. To distract yourself with normal boys that weren't off limits. To cure yourself of the way you instantly became distracted whenever your brothers were near.

Adoptive brothers, you remind yourself inwardly. But you know that fact doesn’t make you feel any less fucking gross.

For as much as you appreciated some of the upsides of puberty hitting you like a train, there were some notable downsides, too. Inappropriate attraction to the other gorgeous men that live in this house aside, you’d found yourself concerned with things you had always prided yourself on being above. The way you gravitated towards more flattering clothes and cuter underwear, your proclivity for flavored lipgloss and this…overwhelming desire to feel attractive had you feeling so unlike yourself that it was hard to embrace the change, let alone enjoy it. Sometimes, the process of becoming a woman often felt like you were being beat with a pretty pink nightstick.

It takes you a moment to realize you’ve been quiet for a strange amount of time. And the knowledge that he has too makes you tense in places you didn’t know you could.

“Besides,” You continue, though too much time has passed to really consider it a continuation of your promise. “I’ve got backup.”

Swiveling around in your vanity’s chair, you don a self satisfied smirk as you slip the hem of your skirt up your thigh just a smidge, exposing the knife holstered to your thigh.

Jason’s eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. He wasn’t expecting that of all things. Not the sight of you, gorgeous and young and supposedly retired from this whole vigilante thing having a butterfly knife strapped to your leg. He wasn’t expecting the thrill he was getting just by looking at it, and how much he wanted to see it in use.

What is wrong with me?

He clears his throat to regain his composure.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He asks, his voice rougher than before.

“Where do you think?” You can’t help but laugh, tugging the hem of your skirt back down. Your sharp tongue gets him hot under his collar in a way he is beyond not proud of.

Still, he joins you, letting out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a snort. The moment brings about a sense of familiarity, the conversation finding a groove it hasn’t been able to since before he had died.

Clearing his throat again, he has to fight against the heat threatening to rise in his face- unable to do much about the blood rushing south. “Look. I know it’s not my place, just…I’m concerned. About you going outside wearing…” The way he vaguely gestures to your outfit with his hands makes you forget he’s supposed to be some kind of sharpshooter.

“I’m…going on a date.” You finally answer, offering an olive branch. Maybe the truth really will set you free. From this cage of Wayne Manor, from the clear gloss, sensible shoes and frumpy skirts that were good for your optics, whatever the fuck that meant. Jason was in your shoes, once. Under the microscope of society, young and repping the name of an entire family on your back. You hope he can relate, and give you some grace. So you lay it on. Thick.

“Do you like it? It’s pretty much brand new. I never get to wear it, because there is no way dad would ever let me out dressed like this.”

Jason nods slowly.

He likes more than your outfit.

“You’re going on a date.” He turns it over in his mind. It seems his suspicions were correct. “And…Bruce doesn’t even know?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. As if you told him where you were sneaking off to when you were my age. And don’t you dare say it was different or whatever bullshit you’re about to-“

Jason crosses the room to your still seated form before you can finish, stepping into your personal space and placing a hand under your chin. He lifts it gently, and tries not to absolutely lose it at the way you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Where is he taking you?” Jason asks, his voice low and rough.

You do your best to beat back that feeling again. The warmth in your core is persistent, but you’ve had a few years of practice surpassing it. Digging your nails into your palm, you try not to observe how handsome he looks, even now, with that spark of disapproval in his gaze. Focusing hard, you manage not to bite your lip at his tone.

“Drive-in.” The truth slips from you quickly, and quieter than it would have several minutes ago, when you couldn’t smell his cologne. You lean into his touch imperceptibly. “And then there’s a party we might stop by.”

“Drive-in?” Jason repeats, his eyebrows arching. “Like, a literal movie drive-in? Do those places still actually exist?” His fingers tighten, his thumb rubbing against your chin- dangerously close to the fullness of your bottom lip. There’s no way you could miss the way his eyes devour your face. And drop to your lips.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm, dropping your chin ever so little, kissing his thumb. “They’re popular spots. Sitting in your car with your date. Alone, in the dark.”

“God, you’re killing me right now.” His heart pounds as your lips touch his thumb, but makes no move to pull it away. His fingers grip your chin a little tighter. His other hand comes to your neck, the pads of his fingers brushing over it gently. “You’re just begging to be kissed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” the word escapes you breathlessly. It’s so fucking embarrassing. You can’t help it. That you care so much about your hair, that your showers are extra long and that you’re so horny all the fucking time now because living in his house is like being in the Olympic village- constantly surrounded by beautifully sculpted people. It was beyond difficult, even if you were now counted among them.

Jason doesn’t care that your door is cracked open or if anyone could walk in and see you. He drops one hand off of your chin, and the one tracing your pulse trails back and up into your hair, forgetting himself as he fists the strands and tugs it back.

“God, look at you.”

It’s all he can manage before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. The discovery of your flavored lipgloss sets off a wave of possessiveness in him when he thinks that some other punk was planning to savor the taste. He wants it to be just for him.

You kiss him back before you can think about it. You’re touch starved and aching, barely thinking straight as he lifts you into his arms with his impossible strength and picks you up as if you weigh less than nothing. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist. Breaking the kiss, your hands find his face, thumbs brushing over the scars on his cheek. “Forgot how strong you are, Jay.”

He lays you across the bed with one swift motion and kneels between your legs as his large hands roam your thighs. You know for a fact that your skin is soft and smooth. Your Everything Shower routine was of the gods.

“You’ve grown up, baby bat.”

His dark eyes bore into you, the old nickname rolling off of his tongue with ease. It no longer brings an irritated flush to your face the way it did when you were still playing with dolls. For a moment, he’s reminded of the fact that he was here to try and step into that role again. To be the brother that keeps you from making the sort of dumb mistakes he had been known for at your age, and not to touch you- but you’re so soft and so sweet. There’s no pity in your eyes, or fear of the monster he used to be. He can't decide if he wants to cherish you or ruin you, but he's greedy enough to try and get away with both.

Manicured fingers twitch to the front tie of your lace cardigan. The edge of the ribbon rests between your forefinger and thumb before you slowly pull, releasing the bow. You reveal your bare, ample chest to him as you agree breathlessly. “Yeah,”

Jason bites his lip at the sight of your chest. A deep sense of satisfaction fills him as you reveal yourself to him, and the hand on your thigh rises slowly, stopping at your hip. He lets out a soft groan as he promptly resumes to think with the wrong head.

Catching his gaze, you drag your nails down his chest, fingers stopping at his belt. Tilting your head, you don’t bother to look as you work on undoing the buckle and pull it free from the loops of his pants. “Jay,” You whisper.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is low, his gaze still boring into yours. “It makes me…feel a certain type of way.” Tilting his head back a little, he lets out another soft grunt when he feels you working open the front of his pants. His eyes fall shut. He seems to be on the verge of something, no doubt attempting to convince himself to stop before the two of you do something you can’t take back.

“What if I want you to feel that way?” You ask, dipping your hand beneath the open waistband of his pants, your soft fingers brushing against his swelling cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Releasing a deep breath, he looks down at you. His hand travels up to your throat, fingers digging into your skin.

“Please.” You finally just beg him, your bare chest heaving as you attempt not to squirm with the anticipation. “Please, Jay. Please.” How long has it been, since you were touched? Yeah, you were gorgeous, and fairly popular at school, but being involved with the precious daughter of the ‘prince of Gotham’ was often too risky for a lot of the guys at school. With you, they couldn't get away with half of the things they could with some of the other girls you know. And then there’s Jason. Someone she’s known for a good chunk of her life. Someone she trusts, someone she’s mourned, and most importantly- someone who is not afraid of Bruce Wayne.

The dying embers of his resolve are snuffed out the minute you shift your hips, that too short skirt riding up and revealing your absolutely soaked panties. And fuck, has he even touched you yet?

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, sweetheart. I got you.” Jason leans over you, one hand supporting himself by your head as the other drags your underwear to the side. Two of his calloused fingers stroke your slippery folds, covering his hand in your warm slick before he fists his thick cock.

He brings the blunt head of him close to you, stroking your clit before it brushes against your core. “Relax for me, sweetheart. You gotta let me in.” He murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Hold onto me.”

You do. Your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as he finally manages to push into you with a long suffering groan. You’re no virgin, but you’re half his size, and so, he bets, was every other chump you had before him. And from the way your walls quiver and stretch around him? He also bets that list is pretty short.

“ ’S okay, princess,” He breathes, his pupils blown wide. It takes everything in him not to pin you down and absolutely destroy you, but he reminds himself that your desperation does’t equal experience. You can act as fast as you want, you still need time to adjust to him.

“Oooh, fuck.” Jason hisses, his nails digging into the sheets beside you as he somehow manages to bottom out. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You can feel his shoulders tense under your palms, and your soft hands slip down his biceps until you’re holding his forearms. You’re so tight it’s criminal, and he can’t even focus as he begins to thrust into you.

His name sounds magical coming from your lips, and you look so gorgeous beneath him, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he fucks you hard and deep and bare. Your cunt is noisy and desperate, sucking him deep into your impossible warmth, covering every inch of him in your slick. His hand finds your throat again, and he can feel the way you squeeze around him in response. He groans complete delight. “You like that? Huh?”

Something akin to a yes escapes you as he begins to fuck you harder, the wood of the antique bed frame creaking in protest as your distant sort-of-stepbrother practically folds you in half, seemingly unable to get deep enough inside of you. Jason is a complete mess above you as you all but melt into your sheets, fingers tangled in the linens as each deep thrust forces a desperate whine from your parted lips.

“Such a perfect little cunt. So warm and fuckin’ wet-“ His free hand greedily palms at your tits as a string of other obscenities that make your clit throb begin to fall from his lips. He finds a spot deep within you that makes your toes curl and your walls tighten, and he grips your hips for leverage as he abuses it relentlessly. The difference between you is such that he barely has to shift his hand from your thigh to have his thumb roll over your clit shortly after you feel him spit on it, the oddity and the sudden stimulation forcing your back to arch.

There’s a part of him that hasn’t yet forgiven Bruce for leaving him to die, and that part greedily soaks up the sight of you coming undone beneath him, your tits bouncing as your back arches off of your bed. You may be barely an adult, but you’re still Bruce Wayne’s little girl, too precious for combat, but not too precious for Jason to spread you open on your pastel linens, under your daddy’s roof. You cream around his cock as your greedy walls threaten to milk him but he refuses to let up, determined to bully another orgasm out of you before he’s through.

“Tell me you want it,” Of course he knows you do. You’re the one who practically scrambled for his belt the minute he got you onto the bed, but it’s not enough to see it. He wants to hear you say it. To beg for him His voice is hoarse. Desperate. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” You manage, barely able to get the words out. “Want you, I want you-“ His nails bite into your thigh and you can hear the blood rushing to your ears.

“Jason,” You look up at him through your lashes, tears of pleasure collecting in the corners of your pretty eyes. He mumbles your name in return, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

“Get off in me.”

“Fuck!” His orgasm hits him like a train almost instantly, and he grinds into you needily with a disbelieving groan, filling you up. Your eyes nearly roll back as you come undone around him, and you’re not even though your orgasm before he lets out a barely coherent whine that sounds like it could be ‘good girl’ or ‘dirty fucking tease’. Your mind is spinning too much to make sense of anything and you decide take your pick, leaning back into your nest of plush blankets and pillows.

“Shit,” You breathe, exhausted.

“Yeah.” He agrees.

Jason allows himself to roll off of you, the bed creaking with impact as he collapses beside you with an uneven exhale. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath, hearing the shifting of his tactical pants beside you as he tucks his cock away. He casts a sidelong glance at you, swallowing before he can think of something to say. “That…you were okay with that, right?”

It takes a good moment to register the words, and you blink your eyes open. Turning to your side, you meet his gaze. You’re both sweating, and you feel decidedly un-sexy with his cooling cum leaking out of you. “What…what are you asking me?” You frown.

Jason tilts his head towards you. “It’s just…you know. What I was like before you uh…grew up.” His thoughts trail off, and his face creases with a frown as he tries to get through the next few words. “I just. I want to make sure…” A deep breath. Another heartbeat. “I can be rough, is all.” His expression softens, and guilt begins to seep in. You may live under this roof, but you aren’t like him. Not really. You were the soft one. The normal one. And that makes him feel equal amounts of pride and shame when he thinks about what you two have just done.

“Hey,” You recognize that shame, and you decide to put a stop to it before he overflows with it. “I may not spend my nights being tossed around by thugs anymore, but Gotham is rough. Our life is rough.”

Reaching out, you rest a hand over his heart, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “But…being here…like this- with you? Being roughed up doesn’t have to suck.” Sitting up, you offer him a smile. “In fact, it felt so good I came twice. So. You know.”

Your answer is honest, and he can’t help but chuckle as he moves to sit up with you. His hand moves to caress the side of your face. You lean into his hand, and his gaze softens.

“You’re so different than you used to be.” His words come out in a whisper, and his thumb traces your jawline. “I want to keep you safe from this. But…I like this side of you. I like what I can bring out of you.”

“It’s been a long time, Jay.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. "A really long time."

You open them when you feel the way his lips brush against your forehead. They linger there for a heartbeat.

The moment is cut shot when you can hear the pneumatic hiss of the downstairs grandfather clock as it swings open, no doubt your adoptive dad home from patrol. “Shit. Dad’s home,” You whisper, and Jason grumbles as he leans against the headboard to catch his breath, watching you sit up. “You sure know how to kill the mood.”

“Dude, I just let you unload in me. I am the mood. So like, zip it.” You huff, fixing your underwear. Jason, despite his casually annoyed exterior, is lighter on his feet than you’ve ever seen him as he moves to get off of your bed. He’s sneaking out of here like his life depends on it, but he has the feeling it actually might.

“See you at breakfast, Jay!” You call a little too loudly, snickering at the way he tenses up in fear. He makes sure to flip you off right before he disappears past the doorframe, and you walk over and shut it.

Looking over to your desk, you see the screen of your phone is lit up, flooded with half an hours worth of texts and missed calls.

Guess you missed your date.

I ain't scared of boys, but boy, you're a man And if anybody could, I'm sure you can For a girl this young, naive, and miserable

[noneorother]

What do Shax and a 30-year-old Sandman comic have in common? Puns. The answer is always puns.

While I've recently revealed Shax does actually know how to spell, (she's just really old), the "angle" message Shax throws through the window to demand the "angel" one was a little trickier, because it's not Middle English, or even Old French, it's probably the oldest pun in Good Omens... it's latin.

Good Omens Season 2, Episode 5, 2023

Fortunately, a time travelling Neil Gaiman left answers for us in his 1995 Sandman special "Sandman midnight theatre." See for yourself.

Sandman Midnight Theatre, Neil Gaiman, Matt Wagner, Teddy Kristiansen, 1995

"Still, they have some illuminated manuscripts in their library which throw fascinating light on early church history. "Not angels, but angles" eh? I've been angling for permission to browse through their manuscript collection for yonks."

Appropriate for an English reverend to be curious about "Angels and not Angles". It's THE earliest christian pun, attributed to Pope Gregory the Great in the 6th century CE.

Oxford reference essential quotations

It comes from a historical account of the pope walking through a market in Rome, and seeing some exotic slave children (i.e. fair hair and blue eyes, and light skin) from what is now the England, and asking where they were from. The master replied that they were "Angles" (Angli in latin) and the pope declared them to be "Angels" (Angeli) instead, which, in latin at that time would have been a pun. This history from Bede actually influenced a lot of the christian world, so we could conceivably make the point that fair blonde and blue eyed angels comes from the idea that they looked liked the English (who were not christian, but pagan at the time of being newly conquered). Aziraphale's looks in the originsl Good Omens are probably a direct result of the lineage in art of this 1,500 year old pun.

Depictions of angels, 1100 years apart Which raises the question: if Shax is asking for the Angel Gabriel with her note, the pun doesn't make any fucking sense.

Jon Hamm plays Gabriel as an "American", specifically not English like the rest of the cast. He does have blue eyes, but as far as Shax is concerned, Gabriel's eyes are violet, not really a human colour. Shax could just actually be stupid (I guess?) and not realize that in modern English that constitutes a mistake (boring), or that Americans succeeded in 1776 (hilarious). But here's a quirkier theory: Shax knows what she's talking about, and she's gunning for Maggie. If you look really closely, demons show up and start hanging around the street earlier in the ball than you would guess. Once a fair number have amassed, they stay waiting for Shax to lead them. However, even though she hasn't shown up yet, they eagerly chase Maggie down the street from her shop. They're only stopped by Crowley, and Maggie gets safely into the ball.

Once inside, she has quite a stunning change of costume, highlighting her blonde hair and blue eyes:

There's so much more evidence to suggest that Maggie isn't really a normal human, but this post is long enough. What I will say is that it's subtle, but once the demon attack really gets going (no thanks to Maggie), Shax and the other demons never look for Jim once, even when he leaves the mezzanine. They concentrate all their efforts on Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina, and never mention Gabriel again.

While Maggie is a Scottish name, and she clearly has some links to Scotland if a random pub in Edinburgh is buying records from her in Soho, she does have a distinctly English accent, and lest we forget...

———————————————

thanks as always to @embracing-the-ineffable and @thebluestgreen for the tasty links and sounding board.

[proxylynn]

My theory of Hazbin Hotel's main plot.

[This may just be a hot take or me whimsically spitballing headcanon, but I have thought about this and, while I don't have all the puzzle's pieces, I think I have enough to make out a decent picture. So bear with me as I unload the insanity that has been in my head since entering the Hellaverse.]

Starting things off, I think the main villain/antagonist of HH's plot is the obvious elephant in the room...Roo aka The Root of ALL Evil.

According to Vivziepop, Roo is a "looming threat in the distance", possibly hinting toward her being a future antagonist and she mentioned that there is no character that she is more excited to get into than Roo, but, she also mentioned that it's "gonna be a long time". So likely we won't see her properly till season three but get hints throughout season two and teased at the end. I will make no claim that "defeating" Roo solves everything in the universe because that's nonsense. There is no good without evil. So you can't just off Roo who's been there since the beginning. And I mean THE beginning. I'm talking the creation of EVERYTHING.

"Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil."

Evil exists at the start before Lucifer does anything, this is a fact. So where am I going with this? Let's continue down the line. To the one driving my train of thought...Lilith.

For someone who didn't eat the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, Lilith was very aware of certain things and had independent free will. But humanity didn't get this autonomy till after the fruit fiasco, so what happened? Why did Lilith have magic main character self-awareness? Well, let's think about this...Why was there such a tree in Eden in the first place? The Angels are making this a paradise and keeping evil out of Earth. So why place a tree in there that would fuck it all up? This was why they didn't want Lucifer making shit because they were worried his ideas would be too risky and bad could happen. So again, why was this tree here? What if...The Angels didn't make it.

I propose, as her name so implies, that Roo sprouted the tree up without the Angels knowing in the hopes the fruit would be eaten and allow evil to taint the world. Lilith might have gotten a hint of what the tree granted and what simple veil that clouded her eyes was lifted enough to make her reject Adam and flee the garden. It's even said that "together" she and Lucifer share the gift of free will with Eve, but Lilith seems to take this stand back and watch approach when Lucifer gives her the fruit, almost like she's uncertain what eating it will do so she keeps her distance. This again, also hints that Lilith has had free will from the start and didn't eat the fruit because it was only when Eve ate the fruit did evil finally break the seal to enter Earth.

"As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created."

Now here's where it gets a bit more headcanony because this line could mean nothing or everything. Lucifer and Lilith are banished to the newly made Hell. I repeat...Heaven cast Lucifer and Lilith into Hell. Nowhere does it say she died. So...We have the first human woman who didn't eat the fruit and never died. By technically, Lilith still has her immortality. She's the oldest human alive. It's also stated Lucifer shares his power with her (and Charlie), which makes sense if she's just some dull human. So, now imbued with this mix of angel/demon rizz, Lilith becomes even more OP and Hell's mary sue Queen that dominates like the bad boss bitch she is.

"Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power."

Lilith as a character has a surprisingly decent amount of info to work with considering we only saw her for the smallest moment. So here's some goodies I've collected from the wiki that are of note.

{According to Vivziepop, Lilith is the "big, slowburn mystery" of the show, adding that we are going to slowly start getting answers over the course of the "next couple seasons", and that season two gives some more pieces to it.}

{When asked about what Lilith was like, Faustisse described Lilith as graceful, regal, and politically charged. Lilith is someone who is exceptionally equanimous. This was implied in "Overture" as in the "Story of Hell" book she is depicted helping Hell thrive over the years using her voice and her songs.}

{When asked about Lilith and Lucifer's dynamic, Faustisse believed their relationship could be summed up with the phrase, "Behind every man is a greater woman", and that they love each other very much. They describe Lilith and Lucifer as "passionate, cheesy lovers". They are of the opinion that Lilith "wears the pants" in her family, but they think both Lilith and Lucifer are switches within their intimate life.}

{When asked about Lilith's powers, Faustisse declined to answer, citing possible spoilers for the main series. They did, however, state that they did not think Lilith had wings like Charlie and Lucifer, although saw no reason why she wouldn't be able to manifest them if she wished. According to Faustisse, Lilith can change the shape of her horns, but it's unlikely this will be shown in practice in the series as it would apparently be difficult to show that kind of constant change over consecutive scenes.}

{When asked if the Eden family have some connection to the royal family as well, Vivziepop declined to answer one way or the other.}

{Due to her origins as a former human, it is likewise unclear if Lilith is connected to the Sinners, who are deceased humans and became demons after death; as Lilith was alive when she was banished to Hell, her transition between human and demon is ambiguous.}

{Faustisse has suggested that she is somewhat good with children}

{Lilith disappeared seven years prior to the series for reasons unknown, never responding to any of her daughter's attempts to call her. Curiously, she was missing the same amount of years as Alastor. Lilith was later revealed to be in Heaven in "The Show Must Go On". Although the exact reasons remain unknown, it was heavily alluded to that she had made a deal with Adam at some point.}

You might look at all this and be like "Lynn, you dummy, we know all this. This is just random stuff". Oh, I think not. Because in just these bits we get so much. Let's begin with the character setup for diving into my main theory.

I think Lilith does love her family. She has a loving and amazing husband in Lucifer and in Charlotte (aka Charlie) the most adorable and kindhearted daughter any mother could ask for. As Queen, she took charge and made Hell less of a pit to wallow and suffer in, and more like a new home to begin anew. So then...What happened? Why would she suddenly leave and cut all communications? Here is where we dig into the meat of it all. My theory of why Lilith left.

Remember how I said Lilith didn't eat the fruit and still had free will then pounded that over and over into you? Well, going on what I said about her getting "a hint of what the tree granted", Roo could've infected Lilith and gifted her awareness while in Eden. Now in Hell where Roo is arguably stronger due to all the sin and sickness that permeates the realm, her influence on Lilith would increase. Lilith, being the big brain that she is, probably felt something was amiss when she got pregnant. Nine months is a long time to plan things out, and maybe doing a few concerts to warn others of impending danger subtlety might've worked...but only for so long. She needed something. A safety. And that safety was her family. Lucifer likely could've been useful but his depression was beginning to take hold with each failure and the worsening sinners as years passed. So...plan B...Charlie. She would instill in her daughter everything she knew and give her a "destiny".

"But Lilith's hope remained. And her dream passed down to their precious daughter, the Princess of Hell."

With Charlie, Lilith instilled that the people were important. But never explained in what way. As she continued to prepare her daughter, Lilith would come to understand this reason. Power. Roo thrives on the tainted evil that seeps from the sinners. So just as she finishes schooling Charlie, she sets up another backup plan to still Roo's intake long enough for her daughter to figure out a way of her own...And this is where Adam comes in.

"Adam is dead. Your deal is done and I'm in charge now. Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven. And if you want to stay here, you're going down there, and stopping that bitch. You understand me…Lilith?"

Feeling Roo's corruptive influence getting worse because sinners just keep coming, Lilith contacts Adam. Now Adam is still salty but hears his first wife out as she caters to his ego. But Adam is wiser after millennia and knows she's not being innocent here. He bluntly gets her to just spill the beans to which she does, she needs out of Hell. Adam grabs this opportunity and says he can sneak her into Heaven but it'll cost her. He knows how much her precious people mean to her so, vindictively, he says he'll take her in if he can go into Hell and kill demons. Little does he know he's playing into her trap. She "reluctantly" agrees so long as no Hellborn are harmed, only sinners. Adam is all for it, even makes a cover story to tell Sera later how killing sinners in Hell will keep Heaven safe, and Lilith then goes about doing the hardest thing she's ever done. She tells Lucifer of some details of this new Heavenly Extermination thing and that she'll have to go away for a long time, promising to return but unsure when. Heartbroken, Lucifer watches as his love leaves him, their daughter, and their kingdom.

"Hey, mom. I know I keep calling and you must be busy... Really busy... But, um, the interview didn't go well, and... I don't know if I'm ever going to make a difference. I don't know what I'm doing. I could really use some advice, mom. I... I think dad was right about me... Ahah, oof. Eh, anyway... I'll stop talking before this gets long. Love you, bye..."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll make you proud."

Vaggie: Did you hear from your mom?

*Charlie shakes her head in dismay.*

Vaggie: Oof… how long has it been now?

Charlie: Not that long, only…seven….years, off doing something important, I'm sure! But, this kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.

This is what I think it's all been leading to. Lilith having made Charlie into someone for the people and wanting to save souls in a, as funny as it is, maintaining the very balance that got fucked up way back in the garden sort of redeeming way. Restoring order by allowing the good to go where it should've gone in the first place and keeping Roo weak. Maybe Lilith can even get her own redemption, being partially responsible for allowing Roo into our world in the first place. The only added weight I have left to give to my silly little "infected Lilith" idea is how she looks at season one's ending.

She looks pissed and upset, which we can say for a few reasons like how Lute just straight-up calls Charlie a bitch to her face. Like, dude, dick move. But, with Adam dead and seemingly no progress from Charlie (that she knows of), Lute is forcing her to go back to Hell where Roo's influence can grip her once more. I'm not entirely sure just what that could mean but for the sake of the Alastor/Lilith theory fans, let's say when Roo is strong she can puppet Lilith into infecting others via demonic deals. She might have done this countless times with mixed results, only to have full success in Alastor. But Mr deer is a bit too successful a test subject and thus gets his powers leashed. Now we have Alastor trying to force his way out of this mixed-up double-power deal by roping in Charlie, the one kink in this chain that could cause everything to break if forced too much.

It would explain his latching onto Charlie and seeking a deal since the very first time they met. She's a means to an end. The key to unlocking his proverbial collar. It even explains his out-of-nowhere instant disdain for Lucifer. Of course he'd be hostel to the husband of the bitch that metaphorically screwed him and poses a threat to his current plan of using his daughter for his own means.

Well, this was a long as fuck rambling. I hope even a shred of this made sense. Now to sit back and wait for season two to come along and either be like "I got something right" or "Wow I was dead wrong on so many levels". I wonder how long that will take?

"In an interview posted on February 2, 2024, Vivziepop thought that the production of season two might take about one-and-a-half to two years, roughly the same production time season one had."

Oh...um...Looks like we have some time. So, we can expect the new episodes to land in late 2025 at the earliest. *sets up chair* I can wait.

[shewrites444]

earned it part 2 [thomas shelby x mafia reader smut]

[ apologizes for not posting in what seems like ages. i've been working and in school so i haven't had much time, but here is a continuation of one of my old thomas shelby imagines i managed to finish up. i loved this trope so much i needed to write a part 2. check out part 1 here ]

word count - 2.3k

[ summary - following the events of part 1, the reader abruptly meets with the peaky blinders at the races to discuss their unfinished deal. thomas takes note of her unkind, frustrated nature, and intends to loosen her up. ]

[ warnings - dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex ]

-

the front door was opened for me by one of my guards, the ballroom guests granting me several admirable stares and nods, but nonetheless, eyes still coated with fear, given everyone in the room knew who i was. if not, they were about to.

i sigh, reaching into my purse and pulling out a small revolver and holding it towards the crowd.

"i don't plan on shooting any of you, i don't even know you." i begin, hearing the doors shut behind me. "i'm just making a point. i need someone to direct me towards the peaky blinders."

a shorter, scruffy man, who seemed to be the ballroom assistant, walked towards me with his hands up, gesturing me to follow him to another room, down a long hallway, to a shut, windowless door on the right. he opened it for me as i flag off my men to stand outside.

the door opens to a view of thomas and his two brothers, smoking cigars with three glasses of whiskey on the table and a bottle closest to the one brother with the thicker mustache, who i assumed was the oldest, given his drunken look and far more aged face. the three of them look to me, thomas displaying a bit of confusion, while the others smirk, the oldest nudging the other.

"i didn't know they sent us up a whore, johnny boy!" the oldest chuckled, setting down his cigar. "she's a pretty looking one, too. i didn't know italians worked around this area."

thomas coughed to stop his brother from speaking any further. "this is [y/n] [y/l/n], arthur. leader of the sicilian mob. please, have a seat, [y/n]."

i grin, looking to his brothers as their faces redden with embarrassment, their laughter stopping in quite literally, half a second. i sit next to thomas, taking a cigarette and letting him light it. i sigh, looking to his brothers.

"nice to meet the two of you." i say, setting my purse on the table. "i am armed, so i don't mind shooting either of you if you call me a whore one more time."

thomas chuckles, glancing down to look at me, up and down, observing the silk red dress and the black coat that complemented it. he took a sip of his drink. "to what do we all owe the pleasure, miss [y/n]?"

"i think you're a bit late on our agreement, mr. shelby." i look up to him with a serious face. "i wanted you to talk to those men, get them to my state, and it all goes away, hm? that would make life so much easier for our families, wouldn't it? if you did your job. i can't do mine until you finish yours, you know."

he smirks, putting out his cigar. "i think we could discuss this later, don't you think? my brothers and i are sorting through completely different business at the moment."

"well, it seems to me that business was waiting for a woman to suck off each of you. at least, that was their business." i stand up, grabbing thomas's half full glass and sip it nearly full, setting it back down and grabbing my purse. "i would say it's been a pleasure, thomas and thomas's brothers, but it has not. have fun at the races."

i open the door and walk out, back towards the ballroom. arthur immediately looks to tommy, shaking his head and nudging john on the side, the two of them cracking up with drunken laughter.

"you fucked her, didn't you?" arthur leans back, watching tommy look down with a flushed grin. "i'm impressed. i didn't think mob bosses went for peaky fucking blinders. i've got to find myself one now, eh?"

thomas chuckled, glancing down at his empty glass and tapping his ring softly against it. “good luck with that, arthur. last thing she’d want is you.” he stood up, filling his glass before getting out of the booth. he held it up to his brothers. “i’ll be back, boys. business.”

arthur and john laugh, gesturing their glasses back towards thomas before he shut the door. thomas sipped down the whiskey as he walked down the hallways, his eyes darting around the room to search for myself, unknowingly aware that i was in the bathroom fixing the pins in my hair.

it seemed he must’ve talked to one of my guards because the door was soon knocked on and opened before i could even respond. i glance over to thomas, rolling my eyes as he leans against the frame with a smirk. i tuck my hair behind my ears, facing him with a blank expression.

“you are aware i came here for business and business only, mr. shelby. i didn’t mean to interrupt you and your brothers, or accidentally share more information than what was given to your family beforehand, but this needs to be taken care of soon.”

he smiled at me, never breaking eye contact during my words. he gestured his glass towards me before taking a sip. “i hear you loud and clear, miss [y/n], but you’re not the only person i have agreements with, eh? i’m a pretty busy man.”

“and i’m a pretty busy woman, mr. shelby. you’ve mentioned it yourself, in our previous encounter, that i was quite a powerful, driven woman, hm? i’ve got other deals to fulfill other than ours, but i can’t do much until you’ve done your part.”

he walked closer to me, his free hand locking the door behind him. he set the glass on the bathroom counter, stepping close enough to corner me into the countertop. i sigh through my nose, crossing my arms. “just do your job, mr. shel-”

“i will.” he interrupts, leaning down to cup both my cheeks, lifting my face up to lock our eyes. “why don’t you let me do something else for you in the meantime, eh?“

i take his hands and pull them off my face, shaking my head and step to the right towards the door. “i told you i came here for business.”

thomas snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me back towards the counter, his grip still soft enough for me to pull away if i wanted to, but i didn’t, feeling him press me against the counter. he leaned down to kiss me gently, which i returned, feeling his hands slide my coat off in the process of it all.

i reach down to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, sliding my hand down his boxers and onto his forming erection, lightly stroking his cock while he reached behind me to unzip my dress. he slides it off my shoulders and it falls to the floor. i step out of it and scoot it to the side, now left in nothing but my underwear.

he broke the kiss, looking down to my nearly nude figure as he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and sitting me on the cold countertop. he slipped off his jacket, unbuttoned his white dress shirt, and removed his pants, until he too was left in his underwear.

to my surprise, he leaned down, onto his knees, beginning to kiss my lower thighs, trailing his lips towards my inner thighs, softly licking and kissing and biting my sensitive flesh, until he was inches away from my already wet pussy, which was already visibly coating my white underwear.

“you know, i can’t seem to get the taste of you out my mouth, miss [y/n].” he began, reaching his right hand up to push my underwear to the side. “spread your legs for me, won’t you, love?”

my cheeks redden my stomach tightens and i begin to do so, but hesitated after a moment. it seemed this would be more entertaining and worth while if i presented him with a challenge. “what makes you think i enjoyed it the last time?” i smirk, looking down at thomas. “or better yet, what makes you think you deserve it?”

he chuckles, leaning up to face me again, eye level, and kisses me again, his hands holding me by the shoulders. “oh, is that so? just imagine how i’m going to talk to you when you’re on your knees before me, miss [y/n]. you’re going to be begging me to touch you.”

thomas takes me off the counter and gestures for me to get on the floor, which i do after a few seconds, watching him pull his underwear down, exposing his large erection, my face going red as i look up to him nervously.

“no touching you until i cum, so go on ahead.”

i lean closer, opening my mouth wide and sliding him inside and i begin to suck him off, looking up to lock eyes while i pump his cock with my right hand, which quickly collected spit from my mouth. i feel his hand hold the back of my head, pushing me towards him as his cock shoves itself down my throat, making me gag unexpectedly, while he thrusted himself towards me.

he pushes himself deeper down my throat, and i blink, stimulated tears rolling down my wet cheeks as he throat fucks me, my own pathetic gargles and gags weakly muffled through his cock. he smirks as we lock eyes once again, his balls slapping against my chin as he continues, his free hand reaching down to wipe the tears.

“you want to act like you’re so deserving and so authoritative, miss [y/n], but you’ll let me shove my cock down your throat in a minute.” he chuckles, no break in his rhythm. “you’re gonna swallow every last bit of me, eh? well, you don’t really have a choice with my cock so deep inside your mouth anyway.”

he releases his orgasm down my throat, pumping himself through it as he swallow every last drop. upon pulling himself out of me, i gasp, regaining air and weakly standing up with his help. he leaves no time to waste, kissing me passionately and quickly turning me around, pressing me against the countertop and angling my body towards him, pushing his cock into my folds after coating it with my wetness.

i moan loudly, feeling him reenter my warmth, and it feels just as good, if not better, than the last time. he reaches his hand over to play with my clit, which only causes me to arch my body more towards him, sinking him deeper into my pussy. i glance over into the mirror, his face resting aside me own on my shoulder, locking our eyes through the glass.

he presses a kiss against my cheek and snakes his other arm around my waist, pushing himself deeper inside of me, earning a gasp from my wet lips. he grins at my response, leaning my body up a bit to where i could see below my waist. the mirror that sat on the countertop was tall and long, providing me with a view of thomas’s cock thrusting in and out of me, along with his fingers as they played with my already swollen and overstimulated clit. i stare, my whimpers coating the the room while thomas groaned, fucking me so hard that i could feel the tip of his cock in what felt like my lower stomach.

“i-i wanna watch you cum inside me, thomas. i wanna feel you inside of me.” i moan, my hands holding the edges of the counter. “please fill me up, fuck, please!”

he nodded more to himself, looking me in the eyes through the glass once more as he held me tighter, fucked me harder, and moved his index finger on my clit though a circular motion, the two of us reaching our orgasms soon in harmony, his filling up my insides within seconds of release. he slowly pulled out of me, my own wetness coating his cock and small remains of his cum dripping from my pussy, down my thighs.

i watch him grab a towel from the rack to the side of the toilet, wiping my cheeks and my mouth and then wiping off his cock. he handed it to me to wipe off my pussy, and i then tossed it into a basket of towels aside the rack.

“begging to finish inside of you now, eh? seems someone is losing up their high nature, miss [y/n].” thomas teases as he begins to get dressed.

i shake my head, biting my lower lip as i do the same, slipping on my dress and turning around for him to zip it up. “let’s pretend i didn’t ask you to do that, if you’re going to rub it in my face, mr. shelby.”

he leans down to hand me my coat, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a cigarette, gesturing it towards me and then lighting it for me. he begins to smoke as well, opening the door for me to leave first.

“perhaps the next time i’ll be the one on my knees, if i deserve it, hm?” he jokes, looking down at me with a smirk as i scoff, rolling my eyes.

“i wasn’t lying about that, mr. shelby. you want to taste me so bad, i’ll be the one fucking you like a whore, but that is an act i don’t think a man like you is quite ready for.”

he shakes his head, now upon reaching the room his brothers were still in. he takes my hand and kisses it lightly, his other hand on the doorknob. “i’ll finish my side of the deal this week, miss [y/n]. next meeting of ours, i’ll be ready to see what you have in store for me. i’ll see you then.”

“if you say so.” i grin, winking before i turn the other way and walk back towards the bathroom where my guards stood. i wipe my mouth and hold my head high as i walk down the stairs and towards the doors of the building.

i wasn't someone to give up authority so easily, but thomas shelby was something and someone else. i couldn't even imagine how our next meeting would be after our deal concluded, but whatever it entailed had to involve me having the upper hand.

[angelpuns]

I said I'd ramble about the TMNT:HME sibling dynamics so here it is:

CW for favoritism

Some of this stuff I've already touched on before, but I'll try and go into a bit more detail on the specific relationships

Leo is the oldest, but all the brothers know he's not the favorite. If anything he's the least favorite ( Not the problem child, though, we'll get to that ) - though Splinter swears he doesn't pick favorites.

As far as all the brothers' views on him as a whole it's something like ' he's the oldest but sometimes he acts way too much like Splinter' and they've said this to him occasionally. And every single time it hits like a fucking brick.

Leo wonders if Mikey thinks he is cool or not - he doubts it. They're sort of in a ' in this together' mentality when it comes to Donnie and Splinter. Leo tries very hard to teach Mikey all about gender/sexuality without Splinter's knowledge. He wants Mikey to know that there is a safe almost-adult for him to come to about that stuff. Mikey doesn't really get it, though. Leo is a bit sad that they don't have a more healthy sibling dynamic - he could never, ever discuss big feelings with Mikey or talk about Splinter. It kinda sucks, but he knows they don't have to talk about big feelings. They just have to have fun.

Leo, for a long time, had a special sort of animosity towards Donnie because of him being the favorite. When they were much smaller, Leo actually hated him for it for a while. But as he got older and they drifted apart, he realized that it's not him vs Donnie, its all of them vs Splinter. He still thinks Donnie is a kiss-up, though, and he constantly tries to help him grow out of that.

Leo and Raph were a lot closer when they were kids, but the shift to disliking Donnie due to favoritism also kinda roped Raph into it, since Raph and Donnie are a lot closer than any of the other brothers. Nowadays, Leo is mostly just....sad about his and Raph's dynamic. He feels guilty for a lot of the way Raph grew up, he knows a lot of it is his own fault ( and some specific things that are his fault 100% that there will be a comic about later ). Overall their relationship is tainted by guilt - Leo will never forgive himself for treating Raph the way he did when they were younger.

Donnie is the favorite, as all the brothers will agree ( Raph still isn't sure that's true ) and Donnie won't deny it. He's proud of it, actually. He knows he's the favorite because he's the most well-behaved. He does his chores, he shows interest in Splinter's hobbies or what he's saying. Overall, he cares a lot about Splinter's opinion - definitely more so than his brothers.

Donnie has noted that Leo acts like Splinter, but he frames it as somewhat of a good thing. He's very.... calculated with his and Leo's relationship dynamic. He tends to keep his distance emotionally, and will call out when Leo is being an asshole. He has also been the most troublesome when it comes to Leo telling him to do chores. He is Team Splinter all the way.

Raph, as his twin, is his favorite brother hands down. Donnie does play favorites and Raph is his favorite brother. They spend the most time together, Donnie prefers hanging out with Raph than hanging out with the rest of his brothers, but they still have fights sometimes. Mostly over room stuff or Raph being too loud. No fight has ever lasted more than a day, though.

Mikey and Donnie have a weird, standoffish sort of relationship. They don't have a ton in common, but still like to play video games together! Mostly mine craft. Donnie just doesn't feel like hanging out with him too often is all :/

Raphie!

Raph has a complicated relationship with Leo- on one hand, Leo can be really cool and fun!! On the other, he can be as annoying as Splinter. And Raph easily gets mad when Leo makes fun of him, sometimes blowing up at him or his brothers for it. He's very easy to anger and sometimes Leo pushes his buttons on purpose. But to be fair, Raph pushes Leo's buttons back just as often.

Raph and Donnie are closest, but Raph sometimes wishes he was the older twin so maybe he could be the favorite. However, Raph usually reaps the rewards as well, since Splinter doesn't even really know he exists most of the time. If Donnie gets a treat he will find a way to get Raph one as well.

Raph and Mikey have an unspoken rivalry - Raph and Mikey have a lot in common, but Raph hates that Mikey is 'better' at so many things than him. He has his own hobbies, but Mikey always does them better. And he's afraid of his little brother surpassing him.

Mikey looks up to Leo as his ' cool but sometimes lame older brother' - most of the time he thinks Leo is cool but sometimes Leo will say/do something so lame that Mikey has to literally walk away. Mikey has also told Leo that he's acting like Splinter the most.

Mikey sort of looks up to Donnie, but it's mostly for his smarts. Other than that, he also resents Donnie a bit for being the favorite :/ Thinks he cares way too much about Splinter's opinion

Mikey doesn't know how Raph feels about his talents. They're close the way youngest siblings are close - they used to roughhouse a lot as kids and nowadays they compete in stupid competitions around the lair :)

So that's how the boys' see each other! I talked about this a bit before, but this is a bit more in detail since someone suggested it the other day <33

TMNT:HME Master post

[malum-forev]

"Who did this to you?" For the bingo plz & thank you!💕

Bby girl, ask and you shall receive! This is a Mafia!40's!Bucky x MobBossDaughter!Reader. Think the godfather style when you read this! I think this is one of my favorite things I've written, and I hope you like it too!

 You were running, your heightened senses making everything around you feel like a series of photographs. Snapshots taken to reduce space in your mind after your fight or flight response.

You weren’t supposed to be here, if you’d only listened to your father’s overprotective words or at least listened to his nagging nanny- your father had scolded you many times telling you not to call Bucky that but whenever the two of you were behind closed doors he would laugh, calling you the funniest woman he'd ever met- you wouldn’t be in this position. 

Your feet ached, blisters were sure to form, your heels were definitely not made for this kind of activity. You looked down at the shiny leather shoes, gromets now vacant where a bow used to be tied. It must have fallen off somewhere on the way, your fleeing movements loosening the knot.

You turned the corner and finally saw your house, the four-story Brownstone had only two lights turned on. You looked down at your broken watch, your first attempt to flee your “date” if you could even call him that, it marked ten past eleven and that was hours ago. It pained you to admit that Bucky was right, he’d warned you thousands of times that the Walker family was not to be trusted. 

“Even though there is peace today, it doesn’t assure you it will be that way tomorrow.” Bucky had told you once after you’d said you were considering accepting a date from the family’s oldest son. “Remember your position in this family and in this world, then consider their true intentions.”

But you’d only rolled your eyes at his remarks. “I believe you are the one who should remember his position in this family and in this world.” You came closer to him, his towering height did not intimidate you. The two of you had virtually grown up together. He was ten years your senior, making everyone around you think you were as close as siblings but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. A brother should never think of his sister the way Bucky thought of you whenever he let his mind roam to that place he shouldn't. You smoothed the lapels on his three-piece dark wool suit, you flattened your palms on his firm chest and dragged them down slowly. He took in a sharp breath as your hands inched down below his belt and stopped parallel to where he desired you the most. Your fingers twitched as if they had a mind of their own, wanting to get closer to him, closer to the part of him that made him masculine. 

You ripped your hands from his hips and took his right hand, you rested it on your palm and your other hand toyed with the signet ring on his pinky finger. The gold shone against his skin, your family’s crest forever imprinted on it. Your father’s wish to have had a male heir would linger as long as the ring lived. There was no amount of duties you could complete that would let your father pass his empire down to you. A stinging truth that made you curse having been born as a woman. 

“Did you make a vow of chastity when my father picked you up from the streets?” Your voice was calm as you rubbed your finger on the gold ring. “Or is it just your terrible personality that forbids you from making a woman climax?”

Bucky chuckled, low and throaty. “The only vow I made your father, was to never fuck his darling little girl.”

“Hm.” Was the only thing you said, dropping his hand and leaving the room. 

You climbed up the steps to your home almost having to drag your body, the exhaustion of sprinting what felt like hours catching up to you. You slowly turned your key, trying to make the smallest amount of noise and stepped inside. There was the faint sound of a record playing and light chatter coming from your father’s study. But as you were about to walk up the stairs to your bedroom and finally put an end to this abhorrent night, the door opened. In a panic, you quickly hid in the coat closet. 

“That’s it for tonight, James.” You heard your father say. “I better get upstairs before I’m sent to the doghouse.”

“Good night, Sir.” Bucky responded. 

You leaned back on the plush fur coats, trying to steady your breath. This was the first time you caught a glimpse of your garments. The silk dress you’d saved up over a month’s allowance for, was now gashed down the middle. You were lucky no one had seen you run around at this time of night, one bad move and you’d be revealed. Your chest was starting to purple, finger sized hues of blue and violet started to appear where John had tried to force you down. You wouldn’t be surprised if your aching neck was covered in these bruises. 

Your shoes were filled with mud and scratches and your tights that once had a seam going up the back were ripped, holes everywhere. Your eyes started to burn as you remembered the crazed look in his eyes as he tried to rip your clothes off but you swallowed down your tears.

Once you made sure your father had retreated to his bedroom, you wrapped yourself in one of your mother’s fur coats and quietly left your hiding spot. But once again, as soon as you stepped foot on the staircase another creak came from the study. This time you weren’t quick enough.

“Is it past three am already? Done with a hard night’s work of terrorizing young children?” Your back was to Bucky but you were sure his face was adorned with a smug smile. 

Your shoulders dropped with a sigh. “Not today, please.”

The first alarm rang when he heard your tone. His eyes trailed from the top of your head, noticing your usual pinned up hair was awry, to your muddy shoes. He heard his heartbeat in his ears as he zeroed on the small patch of skin being revealed from a hole in your tights. You had more than enough money to buy a pair each day of your life if you wished that so, why were you wearing a ripped pair?

“Turn around.” Bucky said quietly at first but as you stood glued to your spot he became more and more desperate, his voice becoming louder. “Turn around and look at me now!”

Bucky had no care for your parents sleeping two floors up. He just wanted you to turn around and tell him you had been carelessly running through a field or whatever you decided to do whenever you weren’t with him. He wished, even though it would fill his being with madness, that you would tell him some man had wooed you with enough love that you’d followed him to bed. Taking you for the night of your life. But as you slowly shifted and he looked at your reddening eyes, he knew something was terribly wrong. You kept your head low, something your usual gutsy nature would never allow. 

Bucky took you into the study, the light illuminated the bruises that were peeking out of the fur collar. 

“Take it off.” Bucky demanded with a gruff tone he’d never before used with you.

You shook your head, one single tear fell from your eye. “I can’t”

“Please, darling.” Bucky closed his eyes and steadied his breaths, trying to keep his anger at bay but it was proving to be impossible. Impossible because your courageous personality was something he loved and seeing you like this could only mean one thing, impossible because his blood boiled when you flinched as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. 

With a gulp you let the coat drop to the floor, pooling around your feet. 

Bucky gasped, his trembling hand traced from your jaw down the valley of your breasts. His touch ghosted the ripped fabric, slipping the scraps of what used to be the sleeves down your arms, making the dress join your discarded coat. 

His jaw ticked as he took you in, your once smooth skin he’d so often wish he could kiss had been dishonored. Your body was a temple only few had the privilege to access and someone’s corrupted mind had tainted it. His fingers circled every single bruise on your body, counting thirty-five. 

Bucky sat you down on your fathers couch and took your heels off, carefully checking for any sign of swelling or injury there. 

“Who did this to you?” Bucky whispered, looking at you for the first time since he’d discovered you on the staircase. 

“It was my fault, I should have listened-“

Bucky’s jaw twitched again. “Who did this to you?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

You couldn’t answer him, the embarrassment and pain of the events becoming too much to bare. Your tears fell freely. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time.” He raised his voice, frustratedly running a hand through his hair. “Who did this to you!”

“John- John Walker.” You whispered through sobs. 

Bucky got up and paced the study, his fists curling and uncurling at his side. 

“Bucky- don’t-“ you tried but he interrupted. 

“Go to your room!” He barked, you’d never seen such fire in his eyes before. Bucky took off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, covering your body. He gently led you to the staircase, his hands were careful, like he was scared of hurting you. 

“Where are you going?” You worried. 

Bucky ran his hand over his face, he was trying to calm himself but all he could see was red. 

“Go to your room.” He repeated, this time calmer, opening the front door. “And don’t come out until I knock on your door.”

He didn’t wait for your reply as he slammed the door shut. 

At first, you paced your room and gnawed on your lower lip. Then you showered, trying to clear your mind but each time the soap disappeared and your bruises showed, you were reminded of what happened.

Around three hours later, there was a soft knock on your door. 

You tugged your robe close to your body as you opened the door. Bucky had a gash on the bridge of his nose and a reddish mark on his jaw. You let him in, closing the door with your back. 

As soon as he was inside your bedroom, Bucky dropped to his knees. “Please forgive me.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the usual stoic man now crying. Your lips parted. 

“Forgive me for not protecting you.” Bucky pleaded, opening your robe and placing a chaste kiss on each of your bruises trailing his lips from your ankles to your stomach. 

“I sentenced John to thirty-five blows, one for each of the marks his vile hands created on your body.” His usual white shirt was stained with dark red marks, Bucky looked up at you his blue eyes clear. “Until my last breath, I will protect you. That is my vow to you.”

Bucky took your hand, his bloody knuckled hand placed a stained cloth bag in your palm. You gasped as you saw teeth inside of it. 

“I have given your father two of his fingers to prove my commitment.” Bucky said before returning his journey up your body, trying to take your pain away. One kiss at a time. 

Part 2

0-0

Pleaaaseee be sure to comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Remember, one comment = one kiss on my forehead! <3

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

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