#I absolutely insist that you @ me in whatever you chose to make

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A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing�� nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

��It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

[primrosebow]

An open letter to bigfatbimbo.🪽

Reasons why you should write for Adam.

1 -> He is a misogynist (not for long)

Look at his face. He is so weird. I swear. He has been favoritized for far too long, leaving him with the most mind-numbing god complex. Don't you want to stab him to death like niffty? Don't you want to put him where he deserves to be (either underground or under me)? I do. You should too! Because his way of thinking meets it's end where my heels begin.

2 -> He is stupid

He has the emotional maturity of a boiled lobster. He fits into heaven like an orca in the amazon river. He is so unbelievably incompetent it is actually kind of mind boggling. Don't you want to crush him like he's a little bug (either with your fists or your thighs)? Didn't he literally say one of the "biggest issues evet" was math or something? He probably couldn't tell you where Africa is in the world map even if you paid him. Even the fruit of knowledge couldn't give him enough braincells to function as a proper member of society.

3 -> he deserves humiliation

He deserves to have his entire worldview rocked and destroyed, something we can surely provide. His shallow thinking should be promptly obliterated. He has only ever gotten away from beautiful tall strong women because he always had the option of just asking for a different woman. They didn't have the mental fortitude to put him in his place. We are the bearers of the curse (liking repulsive men), and, since there is no "mental fortitude" to begin with, there is nothing for him to break down. We (as a collective) should end him.

4 -> I know what he is

His entire persona is a gigantic act to make up for the fact he cannot appropriatelly cope with losing in general, much less losing the, like, 2 wives he ever had (to THE SAME GUY!! MIND YOU!!!) and if he had more people they were one night stands. Not because he left them, but because people know he is worthless scum and he is good for nothing other than his "original dick" ( eugh. I usually refrain from cursing >:// ). It is the reason for his pride and also the only thing that makes him even remotely worth the hastle of talking to. He is the equivalent of a carnival prize to the people in heaven, scoring him is more of a show of your own endurance rather than how coveted he is. He has been objectified through his own hubris. He should be made aware of that. He should fear the knowledge we posses. It should be used against him.

5 -> he sounds.. like.. . He sounds good.

I watched the series while skipping most of the songs but I genuinelly could not do it when he was singing. No wonder he's in a band or something, I didn't actually pay attention to what he was saying I was paying more attention to the sound of his voice so I don't remember clearly what's up with that. Like he sounds REALLY good. If only he knew how to just use his voice without saying the most repulsive atrocities to be ever uttered by anyone ever. Oh yeah! We can make him incoherent enough for that to happen.

6 -> Lute deserves better

Lute deserves, like, a woman. Not him. She's too gorgeous for him, and, the difference between us and her is that while SHE is dealing with HIM, in our case, HE has to deal with US. Really, we're just saving a beautiful, amazing, stunning, showstopping woman a lot of trouble, and getting an ENTIRE PATHETIC MAN AS A TRADE! WIN WIN! Literally no downsides, I swear.

7 -> he is girl dinner

Don't you just love looking into your fridge and seeing the worthless scraps that built up overtime but somehow taste better now than they usually would have, which is particularly shocking considering it has 0 nutritional value? That would be what girl dinner is, and also an appropriate analogy for what Adam is like! Just roughly ok looking enough for you to not downright call it a biohazard. You will go to bed satisfied after fighting tooth and nail for your dinner (getting him to behave properly) and, it'll be easier the next times maybe! Operant conditioning is a heavy hitter with this repulsive individual, so it might actually get easier! Who knows!

8 -> Pretty please? (´｡･д人)ﾞ

I really. Uh . I really want him if you couldn't tell? Maybe the cannibalism and the fear I want to instill into him got in the way of you seeing my point, but, like, that's just how I love. The highest honor I could bestow on him is wanting to eat him, so, maybe that'll assist in your judgement? I also just really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts on his idiotic self. AND! AND! Other people also want you to write about him if I well remember the 1 ask you received about him!

I await your response when you are available @bigfatbimbo

If you need more convincing; I can, like, draw him? I'm going to draw him no matter what but like I can cook something up for you in particular who knows.

You did say you were already considering writing for him, so, maybe this can be a final push in that direction for you!

- sincerely, Bow

[feitanii-ll]

★ —–– " how they love you — jjk version

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who would give you the world if he could. and trust me, he's tried.

satoru who doesn't believe that he could find true love, surprised that he has the ability to be so vulnerable around you. drop that stupid, "honored" role and just... be with you.

the one who tries to make you laugh as much as he possibly can, because your laughter keeps him alive. your smile makes his brain all hazy. the crinkles in your brow makes him stare— he's crazy about you.

satoru who's so so strong, but wouldn't dare use that strength to hurt you. using it only to help. gloating about how many grocery bags he can carry on both arms, though it's simply to showcase his strength, and to lessen your struggles.

the man who scoffs in the face of higher-ups when they scold him for interrupting their meetings with your ringtone, and answering your calls.

"it's my wife?" he simply shrugs, when asked why he insists on making a mockery of these meetings.

satoru who tries to be helpful in his own ways, researching little online tips on "how to keep your spouse happy!" he's embarrassed when you see the search history, reassuring him that he's already perfect, and helps so so much.

satoru brags about you, because God, are you beautiful. so graceful. you put up with him.

he sobs to himself in the night when when sees you lying beside him. you chose him...and not just for his strength or title, and he knows this. his emotions are through the roof for you.

your husband, satoru, loves so loudly.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈, 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 didn't even think he was worthy of love.

it's sad to hear, how undeserving he felt before he met you. with a busy work schedule, crabby attitude, and dangerous job, he convinces himself that it's impossible for him to find someone who could "put up" with him.

for the longest, kento yearned love. a marriage. a happy home. a new feeling of pride in something positive.

kento is a new man when he meets you.

kento who treats you like absolute glass, completely careful of you emotionally, physically, and mentally. there will never be a day in which kento doesn't know what you're feeling. he knows his way through your heart and soul, making it his job to be able to read you in and out— he knows you better than you know yourself.

kento who feels like he needs to spoil you. like it's in his blood to give you top-tier quality items, the only time he ignores you being when you try to convince him otherwise.

this is a man who wakes up on his own at ungodly times of the night and looks over his shoulder to see you sleeping soundly beside him, your designated spot all warm from how relaxed your body is into the mattress. he finds himself, like a routine, gently rubbing your silk-clad back as you sleep on your tummy before reaching over.

"hi, sweetheart. I miss you," he mumbles against your ear, giving the shell a soft kiss. its not like you're gone, but he simply misses you because you're asleep, unable to speak to him. "sleep well." he finishes, before settling in bed beside you.

nanami wants you to make his house a home. he knows your favorite isle in the grocery store is the home-goods; he doesn't miss the way your eyes gleam at the pillows, coasters, and floor mats that could match whichever theme you so desperately want. loves when you point to a house plant and explain why it'd be such a good detail to your house.

kento doesn't hesitate to buy you everything you look at, and no, you're not allowed to object.

kento loves you cautiously�� in the best ways.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎, 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is such an angel.

"can I help, my love?"

"do you need anything from me?"

"no no, I'll do it, darling."

he's so unbelievably sweet to you, constantly trying to help you out, make you feel happy, do whatever he can in exchange for your sweet sweet praise that he lives off of.

choso, the man who can't keep himself off of you. the one who pushes his head into your tummy from under your arms as you scroll through your phone, furrowing his brows when you only giggle instead of run your fingers through his hair like he was hoping.

choso who's still a little new to the world, and gets excited over the smallest of things. amusement parks, grocery stores, pet shops— he's so curious.

the one who makes you breakfast in the morning, trying his best not to wake you up with clattering pots and pans, so excited when he successfully makes you a meal and brings it to your sleeping form.

cho who doesn't stop inviting yuuji over, considering he's about the only immediate family. his heart melts when he realizes that this is his family. you, itadori, and him.

choso who discovers Polaroid cameras, and snaps a photo of you three when you're out and about. pictures of frogs in your backyard, pictures of yuuji tumbling down a steep slope on your hiking trip, photos of the two of you on a lazy day in which you stay in (one he slips into his clear phone case).

choso, is so so patient— often being the mediator to your overthinking or frustration. he's so good in the way he calms you down, gently tugging you by your hip in attempts to pull you away from strangers you wind up bickering with at the mall for being so rude to you.

choso who loves yiu and all your attitude, often calling you his "angry bird." (he only just learned of the game.

choso loves you so sweetly.

[itsagoodluckkiss]

Lost Time

Pairings: Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

WC: 2K

Warnings: Mutual pining, idiots in love, just pure fluff, no use of Y/N

A/N: Finally coming out from my hole to work on the requests I have neglected for so long. It was a rough couple of months, I'm juggling work, school and the problems that come with existence, so please be kind. English is not my first language, so sorry if this is all over the place at times. This is a request from my lovely @macbethsymphony, I love you so much, beautiful. I combined the two ideas and I really hope you'll at least enjoy it. Also forgive me for not making it suggestive, fluff suited it better I think. 💕

"Hiya 💕 Can I request something? I’m really craving some Zoro fluff 👉👈 I was thinking of something along the lines of kind of an accidental confession? Like the reader accidentally says they find him handsome but quickly and casually brushes it off (out of embarrassment but they’ve got a good poker face) but it sticks in his mind for days. Or maybe something about insomniac alone time in the crows nest? Idk I’ll let you chose what you prefer (if you decide to go for it that is because absolutely no pressure!!!) I’ll also let you decide if you wanna make it suggestive :3 whatever feels best for the story! Anyways love you ✨"

If anyone had said to you two years ago that you’d find your forever family on a pirate ship, you would have laughed at their face. Sometimes, when you lay in your bed at night, you still can’t comprehend the fact that you’re surrounded with such unique and amazing people. Despite the hardships and pain you had endured, you would never exchange the loving bond you had with your friends, each one holding a special place in your heart. But one of those bonds was slightly different.

It was slightly unbelievable how you had hit it off instantly with the swordsman of the crew, ever since they picked you up from your small island town back in the East Blue. Zoro’s your partner in crime, the person closest to you, the one you’d always trust with your hopes and fears. Even in moments of weakness, he was the person who managed to make you get it together. And somehow in return, you had managed to crack through his hard shell, gaining his trust and respect. Υour cheeky and bubbly personality appealing to his nonchalant character, making him smile whenever you were around, whenever you’d spend time together.

In the battlefield, you two were a force to be reckoned with. You always had his back, literally, watching out for enemies’ sneak attacks, him always protecting you when you were down, cutting down on anyone who dared to touch you. And that’s why Zoro never went easy on you during training, always wanting you to give you a challenge so you’d be in your best shape when in need. You appreciated that he never judged you based on gender, but sometimes, you wish he would relax, both for your sake and his.

It was the following days of a particularly rough battle; your bodies were still recovering from the wounds you sustained. You were in the crow’s nest, trying to keep up with his quick moves, the muscles of your legs straining as you deflected his attacks. Honestly, you couldn’t understand how this man could move with those dreaded wounds on him, but here he was, almost kicking you off your feet.

“Don’t lose your focus.”

Your eyes met his as you panted, trying to find your breath, fists raised in the air, sweat running down your forehead. You glanced down his body, your eyes widening when you saw the red streak on the bandages that covered his waist. You relaxed your stance immediately, going towards him to make him sit down the bench.

“Stupid bastard, you reopened your wound!”

“It’s nothing, don’t hover over me, we shouldn’t stop.”

“Shut up and sit still, let me see.”

You unwrapped the bandages around him, flinching when the slash on his ribs was visible to you. You grabbed the first aid kit from across the room. Chopper had insisted there would be one in every room because according to him, he may be a reindeer, but he may not always be able to treat all of you animals simultaneously. You sat beside Zoro on the bench. Disinfecting the wound got you a slight, almost silent hiss from him.

“You’re lucky the stiches haven’t reopened.”

“See? It’s nothing, no need to fuss.”

“You know, I only joined you today because I wanted to stop you eventually. You shouldn’t strain your body like that, Zoro. You should give it time to heal.”

You were careful with your moves, applying the ointment your doctor had made, cleaning the skin around his wound and then got the sweat off his abs before you wrapped fresh bandages around him. You were the only person besides Chopper that Zoro allowed to tend to his wounds. You had to admit that it made you feel special. It also gave you a chance to touch that body that felt like it was sculpted by the gods. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never starred at him when he wouldn’t look, or how your heart thumped in your chest whenever he was too close. You had come to peace with your feelings of love for the swordsman, and you had come to peace with the fact that you’d never say a word about them. They wouldn’t be reciprocated anyways, so why would you ruin your friendship over them?

Right now, you had him in your arms, and it was enough. Rubbing the tension off his shoulders, his back laying against your chest, sighing in relief. His guard was down when you two were alone, allowing himself some sort of vulnerability, trusting in you to keep that side of him to yourself. His chiseled back, bare and clean from scars, laid in your display. His eyes were closed and you could see with the corner of your eye his facial features slowly relaxing. Your mind was racing, how you wanted to smother that beautiful face of his with kisses. You were smiling to yourself, not realizing you were thinking out loud.

“You’re so handsome…”

Your eyes widened for a second, breath caught in your throat, before you composed yourself as his eyes snap open to look at you, his gaze as stoic as always, not able to read what was going on in his mind.

“What?”

“I mean, you’re too handsome to die from not taking care of yourself. Do better, Roronoa.”

Your mind was reeling, almost short circuiting, but you kept your cool, appearing unbothered by what you just said, although you let go of him almost immediately after. You gathered your things, ready to go die in your room from embarrassment. He rises to his feet, stretching his limbs before grabbing a tower to wipe off the remaining sweat off his forehead.

“I’m gonna go lay down. You should rest too. Promise me you won’t train more today, yes?”

A sigh of annoyance left his mouth. “Okay, I promise you. Happy?”

“Yes. I’ll see you later.”

~

He had to admit, he didn’t expect your compliment. Of course, you had complimented each other’s skills and fighting in the past, but you had never made a comment about his appearance. Zoro pondered over it the next couple of days. He noticed how you had scattered almost immediately after, and even if you didn’t let your emotions take the better of you, he could sense your nervousness after that comment. He was taken aback but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by mentioning the topic. It also gave him a sense of satisfaction. He had to admit he was happy you thought about him like that. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but the weird feeling that had taken its place in his heart from the first time you joined this crew was growing stronger each passing day.

Zoro had tried to deny his emotions for a long time. But two years apart made him realize there was no point in that. The times he would catch himself thinking about you, missing you in a different way than the rest of the crew. The way his heart clenched when he saw you again. How different, even more beautiful, you were but also how it was like no time had passed when you wrapped your hands around him in glee that you were with him again. It made him see there was no denying the devotion he had for you. Yet, he didn’t want to smother you over it, making you feel awkward for not reciprocating his feelings.

But your compliment made him doubt his decision. He recounted the times he had caught you staring at him, only to turn your head away in embarrassment. Or how you always leaned on him when you were tipsy, giggling against his shoulder. And how he always held you close in those moments. What if you actually felt the same? What if you actually saw him the way he saw you, and you were afraid of the same thing he was. Rejection. Zoro was never the man that cared about people accepting him or not. But it felt different with you. A stupid need wanted you to accept him in a certain way. The way two lovers got together in those novels Robin was reading about in her spare time. Love is a strong word, but he couldn’t find a better one for his feelings.

All these thoughts were swirling in his head as he nursed his bottle of sake while keeping watch in the crow’s nest until he heard the hatch opening. And as if some divine power was watching over him, you came into the room, closing the hatch behind you.

“Knew I’d find you here.”

“I’m keeping watch, so I don’t know where else I could be.”

You both chuckled as you made your way to stand next to him, leaning on the railing.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Something like that, yeah. I’ve been tossing and turning for the past hour.”

Zoro said nothing, instead offering you his bottle. You gingerly took it from his hand, your fingers brushing just for a second. You took a swig, looking out on the open sea. There was a full moon illuminating down on you, and no sound around you except the gentle waves against the hull of your ship. You stayed like that for a while, eyes on the vast ocean around you.

“You ever think about lost time?”

You turn your gaze in surprise when you heard him speak.

“What do you mean?”

“… Things you should have done but were late to do and you wasted time.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Zoro finally looked at you. You couldn’t read the gaze he had in his eyes but the hold he had on you would never allow you to look away.

“That two years have passed without seeing you and I still haven’t said that I thought of you every single day.”

“You… thought of me?”

You felt your heart clenching. Your eyes widen as you stared at him. Did he actually just say that? Zoro was never a man that played with his words, always blunt and straightforward. He scoffed lightheartedly, a small smile on his face at your shocked expression.

“Of course I did. And during that time, I also realized I wasted time wondering what you’d think of me while I could have spent it holding you in my arms.” He took a small pause. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

He turned his gaze to look at the sea once again while your now teary eyes were glued at him, hanging on the words that fell from his mouth, a wide smile forming on your face. It felt like a dream. A dream you regularly had in those two agonizing years you yearned to see him again.

“What are you sorry for?”

His eyes were on you again, reading your expression.

“I-”

“Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to just tell you? How much struggle it took to keep it all down?”

Your bodies were now thoughtlessly closing the distance between you, almost touching. Your hands grasped his shoulders softly while his traveled to your waist to hold you steadily in his chest.

“You should have.”

He leaned slightly, your foreheads touching. His gaze buried into yours, communicating all the feelings that both of you shared. Longing, reluctance, uncertainty and most of all, love.

“I don’t want to waste more time. May I kiss you?”

You gave him a toothy grin, a tear sliding down your face.

“Yes. Please.”

His hand cupped your cheek to wipe the tear away as his lips found yours in a sweet kiss that held no hesitation, all the unspoken words both of you hadn’t spoken in so long pouring into it. His other hand held your waist firmly against him while your lips moved in sync with a passion that couldn’t be described, as the moon shone down on you, the only witness to your link. After a moment you broke the kiss to catch your breath, smiling, his breath falling on your lips as he chuckled breathlessly, foreheads still against each other.

“You’re stuck with me now.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, Zoro.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shot Through The Heart III

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: You're pregnant

"Don't."

Alexia backed away quickly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"I was just-"

"No."

"Amor-"

"No, Alexia. I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

You got to your feet and stretched, ignoring the way that Alexia hovered uncertainly as you balanced the laundry basket on your hip on your way up the stairs.

"I can carry it." She trailed you everywhere you went. "You shouldn't be carrying such heavy things. The babies-"

"The babies will be fine and, unless you're going through twenty kits daily, this basket barely weighs anything."

Your pregnancy hadn't come as a surprise. You and Alexia had been trying for a while before it worked. It had been decided that you would carry, your sport was a lot less physically taxing than Alexia's. It was all going smoothly until you had gone to a scan one day to find out that you weren't having one baby girl like you thought.

You were having two.

Alexia, of course, had taken mother henning to the extreme when she had found out, hovering incessantly and staying with you as long as possible before heading to practice.

That hovering nature had extended to every aspect of your life the moment that you started showing.

She trailed you up the stairs, opening the wardrobe doors for you when you started to fold the clothes.

"Alexia," You said in warning when she started dividing everything up.

"Amor," She said back," I'm just helping."

You swatted at her with a t-shirt. "You're being a nuisance and you're hovering. Again. Cut it out."

"I'm not hovering!" She insisted, still very clearly hovering.

"You are." You rolled your eyes, bending down to grab the socks that had fallen on the floor.

"I'm not!"

"Alexia," You said, putting the last of the laundry away," You are most certainly hovering." You turned to face her. "I'm fine. The girls are fine. Everything's fine."

She sighed, holding her breath in for a few seconds before releasing. "Okay. I'm sorry, amor. I just want to make sure all three of you are safe."

You press a kiss onto her cheek. "I know. If it didn't annoy me so much, I'd say it's cute how protective you are over us."

Alexia took a step forward and placed her hand daringly on your bump. "I just want you to be careful."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "What do you think I do all day while you're at work? I sit on the sofa all day and type on my laptop. You're lucky I love you or I wouldn't have taken a break from training so early."

Your bow was resting comfortably in the corner of the living room, just collecting dust after you put it aside as soon as you started to show.

You'd probably have gone on for a bit longer with your bow but it made Alexia antsy so you stopped and just continued with your interviews and writing so she would stop breaking out in hives every time you left her to go train.

Alexia spent most of her time with you on a good day but now that you were making a family together, she was adamant about staying with you until she absolutely has to. She stayed in bed for as long as possible in the morning and she didn't hang behind at training to speak with her teammates.

If the team wanted to go out together, she either bowed out or changed the get-together to your shared house so she could hold your hand and rest her head on your shoulder.

"Names?" You asked one evening as you rested on the sofa with Alexia massaging your swollen feet.

"Whatever you want," She replied," I don't mind."

"You must have some opinion, Ale," You said," Don't tell me you have no ideas."

"You're carrying them," Alexia said," You have all the power here, amor. I'm just happy that I'm the one you chose to take along for this ride."

"You're so sappy," You said with a fond eye roll," You have no opinions? What about middle names?"

Alexia's face got a little red and she couldn't meet your eyes for a moment. "I'd like for one to be Elisabet, after Mama."

"Good idea," You said," And for the other one?"

"I was thinking either Alba or María but I don't know if I want either of them to get a bigger head than they already have."

"I think if Alba's head gets any bigger then it might roll off her neck," You joked and finally got a little smile out of your wife.

"What about you?" She asked," You asked about names. You must have some in mind."

You stared at the picture of your most recent ultrasound, tracing over each of your babies.

"Baby A could be Elena," You said," Baby B...Maybe Maya."

"I like them," Alexia replied," Elena and Maya Putellas-l/n."

"Maya Elisabet," You smiled," And Elena...Well, you'll just have to decide which one you'd prefer to inflate the ego of."

"Elena María but Alba can be godmother."

Maya and Elena came into the world two days after an El Clásico win for Barcelona. Two little crying babies that fit easily in your arms rounded out a perfect week for you and Alexia.

"Perfect girls," Alexia said as she admired them before looking over at you in pure contentment," My three perfect girls."

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

My Two Cents On The “ Is David Tennant Queer” Drama

As some of you know, I spent a solid third of the past year working on a movie-length video essay about David Tennant. This video essay features an eight minute section titled “Gender, Vulnerability, and Why David Tennant Is A Queer Icon”, which does not speculate on David’s own sexuality, but discusses the queer coding and subversion of gender norms in plenty of his roles and his importance as an ally to the LGBT community. At the same time, I was also coming to terms with my own identity as nonbinary and bisexual, and it ended up playing a crucial role in me finally working up the courage to come out to my parents. Characters like Crowley and the Doctor, both in terms of how they present themselves and how and who they love, have been absolutely instrumental in me developing my queer identity, and my comments section was full of people who had had similar experiences, who’d realized they were trans, nonbinary, gay, etc thanks to David and his characters. And as a result, I won’t deny that if David himself were to be queer, it would mean a lot to me.

Do I think David is queer? It’s certainly possible. I see a lot of how I express my queerness in how david chooses to express himself, most prominently through his frequent queer coding of characters who don’t necessarily have to be played as such. This can especially be seen through his Shakespeare characters, such as Richard, Hamlet, and some would argue Benedick as well. When I was 15 I played Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, who I chose to play as a closeted young gay man harboring an unrequited crush on Romeo. I think I saw this role subconsciously as an outlet for my own repressed queerness, both of gender and sexuality, as I had experienced an unrequited crush on my female best friend the previous year which I was still in denial about. I’ve described my gender identity as “a girl with a chaotic tortured gay man inside of her that needs to be let out every once in a while”, which has never been more true than with Mercutio- a character who I might add, I took a great deal of inspiration from David when playing! In terms of using roles as an outlet for one’s queerness, I could absolutelt see this being true with David, especially when it comes to Crowley, who seems to have had an impact on David’s style, behavior, etc in a rather similar way to how he’s impacted me. I don’t want to act like David wearing pink docs means he must be gay, I think people should be allowed to wear whatever they want regardless of sexuality, but taken in conjunction with so many other things about him, it does make one wonder, and the fact that a seemingly straight man has been so many people’s queer awakening is a bit puzzling to say the least. I won’t pretend that these “signs” (if you interpret them that way), haven’t been increasing somewhat in the past year, and if I got to share my own coming out journey with the man who inspired it, I would be absolutely thrilled. I also can’t specifically think of an instance where David has SAID he is straight, as opposed to Taylor swift, who has.

With all of that said, where I personally draw the line is when mere speculation crosses into interfering with the subject’s personal relationships and the sense that one is OWED something. I believe that what matters to David more than anything is being a husband and a father. I believe he adores Georgia and his children and would not do anything in the world that he believes would jeopardize his family. As happy as I would be for David if he were to come out (probably as bi) I realize that that would put so much unwanted attention on his marriage and family and I think that’s the last thing he wants. I don’t think it’s IMPOSSIBLE that he and Michael Sheen are having a passionate love affair behind everyone’s backs, but I absolutely don’t consider it my place to insist that they are, because as much as I may feel like I do, I don’t know these people! And besides, if David were cheating on Georgia, he really would not be the person I thought he was.

So many queer people see themselves in David and his characters, and that is beautiful. And I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with having theories that David might be queer himself. However, it must be acknowledged that these theories are THEORIES, and they should not be used to invalidate people’s real life relationships- after all, it’s totally possible to be bi/pan and also be in a loving and healthy heterosexual relationship like David and Georgia at least seem to be in! If David were in fact “one of us”, I would welcome him with the openest of open arms, but unless and until he himself decides to proclaim himself that way, I will not expect anything of him other than to be the incredible artist and person we know and love.

[undercroft-files]

Recovery

Gif not mine

Various HL Characters & MC

Genre: Scenarios

Summary: After MC's daring solo fight with Ranrok and doing whatever they chose to do with the stored ancient magic, they were admitted into the hospital wing by some of the professors that found them. The nurse just now started allowing visitors, how do they all react?

Characters: Natsai Onai, Sebastian Sallow, Poppy Sweeting, Ominis Gaunt, Amit Thakkar, Eleazar Fig

Warnings: Mentions of cuts, bruises, and bandages but nothing out of place.

Natsai Onai

Once she heard about you being in the hospital wing and knowing you were allowed one visitor at a time, Natty didn't waste a second in seeing you. She knew about Ranrok and the ancient magic but a whole battle against Rankrok alone under Hogwarts definitely didn't sound pleasant.

The hospital wing was quiet, no one else seemed to be there at the time other than you. Natty immediately came to your side and hugged you, catching you off guard.

"I am so happy you are okay!" Natty exclaimed, clutching you around your waist.

"Ow...!" You grunted, your voice was hoarse and gravely from overuse.

"Oh! I apologize! Did I accidentally harm you?" Natty asked, becoming aware of her own strength and letting you go.

"You're okay, Natty. Thank you for coming to visit me." You said, your voice cracking a little from it being hoarse.

"Of course, MC. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure they were okay after what I heard you went through." Natty admitted, pulling one of the visitor's chairs closer to your bed and sitting down on it.

"Ah, so you know." You chuckled, a weak smile on your face.

"How could I not? Most people assumed you were expelled but I knew Black wouldn't actually do that after all the trouble he went through just to get you here." Natty said, hinting to the spreading rumors about you.

"Huh, you got a point..." You replied, your voice cracking again.

"You sound tired, why don't you get some more rest?" Natty offered, pulling some of your covers up for you.

"And miss out on seeing my friend when I need her most?" You replied, smiling at Natty.

"Trust me, MC. You will not be missing out on anything because I will remain here until I'm told otherwise. Get some rest, you deserve it." Natty almost commanded, helping you shift into a comfortable position for you to sleep.

Sebastian Sallow

He didn't even wait from word about where you were after the events of the goblin attack were confirmed, he just bolted to the hospital wing. Sebastian had a lot on his mind since you last talked to him, the events between him and what was left of his family shattering and you stayed by him, despite when he got difficult. He needed to talk to you.

The nurse almost didn't let him enter but you called out and told her that it was okay. Sebastian gave one final glare to the nurse before he rushed to your side, grabbing your hands and holding them in a comforting way.

"Are you okay? You look absolutely terrible." Sebastian stated, looking over all the markings of your face and arms.

"Well, I've definitely been better." You joked, smiling a little.

"You should've told me. I could've helped you." Sebastian said, sitting on the bed by your legs but never letting go of your hands.

"No, Sebastian. It would've been useless. Professor Fig was with me but I told him to leave because it was too dangerous for him, I would've told you the same if you were there. Besides, you had your own things to worry about—"

"No, no, no, don't say that. You've done so much for me this year that most people wouldn't have been able to accomplish in a single year, the least I could've done was protect you." Sebastian said, his grip slightly getting tighter but not overbearing.

"I'm fine, really." You tried to push away his concerns but he insisted.

"Fine? MC, have you looked at yourself? Your arms are covered in bandages, you basically look like a mummy! If that's your definition of 'Fine' then I'm deeply concerned for you." Sebastian confronted, causing you to give me a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I just didn't want anymore trouble nor did I want to risk losing someone I care about." You admitted, giving a small smile.

"I forgive you, just promise me next year won't be as dangerous as this one? I appreciate adventure, but not death wishes." Sebastian joked, causing you to laugh a bit.

Poppy Sweeting

"MC! Are you okay?!" Poppy greeted, rushing to your side at the hospital wing.

"Yeah, just a bit bruised." You admitted, smiling to Poppy.

"Don't ever do that again! From now on, I'm gonna make sure Highwing always has her eyes on you because you're just so... so—reckless!" Poppy exclaimed, her worries and care pouring out like word vomit.

Poppy had more to say but you didn't want to interrupt her in her worried rants, so you just listened with a smile on your face. She finished with an exaggerated sigh, her lungs trapping a bit of air at the beginning of her rant that needed to be let out.

"Feel better now?" You joked, seeing her calm down.

"A bit, I'll be way better once you're well enough to leave the hospital wing." Poppy admitted, sighing a little.

"Couldn't agree more." You stated, smiling brightly.

Ominis Gaunt

Word about the goblin attack spread through the school and surrounding areas like wildfire, everyone's talked about it at least once. Ominis knew you had some quarrels with a goblin named Ranrok and knew the dangers that came with it and he didn't question that you played a major part in defending Hogwarts.

Sebastian was the one to inform Ominis about you being in the hospital wing but that you hadn't woken up yet, so it felt only right to check on you, even if you didn't know he was there.

Ominis used Floo Powder to get to the hospital wing to make travel easier and located you from his wand, still unconscious. He sighed a little before sitting down in a nearby chair, waiting for either you to wake up or for the nurse to tell him it was time to go.

He wished you stayed mostly out of trouble when you got here or at least only worried about the goblin issues, sensing the bandages on you made Ominis have the feeling that if him and Sebastian had been more reckless when you helped them that this would've happened sooner.

Ominis heard you shuffle a little in your bed and tensed up a bit, trying to hear if you were awake or not.

"Ominis...?" You asked, answering his question.

"Hi," Ominis paused, not really knowing what to say. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just got attacked by a magical dragon." You chuckled, causing Ominis to give you a more concerning look than he already had. "Sorry..."

"Don't apologize, you did what you had to do." Ominis paused again, he's not used to comforting people or being comforted so he really didn't know what to say. He gently found your hand and held it. "I'm just glad you made it out alive."

You smiled, Ominis had always been nice to you unless he was upset but somehow managed to forgive you easily. You know you and Ominis got off on a lot of wrong starts but tried to make it up whenever you could, like if you saw his struggling in potions, you'd help him.

"Thank you, Ominis." You said with a smile, gently squeezing his hand.

Ominis smiled, "Just promise to not get into as much trouble in the future, you got lucky this time, I wouldn't test it again."

You chuckled, agreeing with him.

Amit Thakkar

He was anxious all morning during breakfast because he had heard of what to you the night prior, he wanted to see you but knew it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught when he didn't want to be. Finally, after leaving the Great Hall, he hurried to the hospital wing to find you quietly eating something yourself.

"Oh, hello Amit." You greeted, seeing him approach you.

"MC, what happened? Are you okay?" Amit asked, sitting down in a chair next to your bed.

"Well, goblins happened. Hopefully, I gave them enough of a scare that they decide to never mess around with Hogwarts again, and yes, I'm okay." You explained, smiling a bit.

"I've been so worried since I heard about the rumors of the goblin attack. I knew you were trying to keep them from whatever they were looking for but I was hoping they were just rumors." Amit admitted, sighing a little.

"Honestly, I'd have wished the same thing. It's over now, though. There will still be a nasty goblin here and there but they seem like a pesky bug now after I fought Ranrok." You joked, smiling to Amit.

Amit chuckled, finding a weird sense of admiration from your bravery. "I guess fighting a goblin who had been using wizard magic makes everything else seem like an assignment for school." Amit agreed, smiling back at you.

He decided to stay as long as he could with you as good company, some of your other friends came to visit and bring you gifts but he never left.

Eleazar Fig

He had been the one that carried your unconscious body to the hospital wing after you collapse from the powerful fight Ranrok gave you and from keeping that ancient magic from branching out where it doesn't belong. You had told him to run to safety after Ranrok destroyed the crate the magic was concealed in, he hated the idea of leaving a student he cared for in the jaws of potential death but he had no other choice.

He helped the other professors fight the goblins that came before rushing back to check on you, finding Ranrok dead, the magic concealed once more, and your body motionless on the ground. He expected the worst but didn't give up hope, he knew you could pull through.

After the nurse patched up your wounds and gave you a bed to rest in, Fig spent all his time by your side. He had a few cuts and bruises on himself that he got taken care of as well but never left you out of his sight for too long, not wanting to miss when you woke up again.

Hours passed, maybe even a full day passed before you slowly opened your eyes. Fig's attention was brought back to reality when he heard you sigh and saw your hand instinctively rub your eye.

"Professor...?" You asked, your voice raspy from the battle.

"I'm here, it's alright. You're in the hospital wing, Ranrok is dead, and the ancient magic has been concealed. You've done it." Fig smiled, gently taking the hand you weren't using and holding it.

"How long...?" You began but trailed off, finding it hard to use your words.

"You haven't been out long. Maybe a day, but I was expecting you to be resting longer." Fig admitted, gently brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

You hummed in response, letting Fig know you heard him. Words became something nearly impossible for you to use as tiredness and the weight of your body needing healing overpowered you.

"Rest, MC. Merlin knows you deserve it after all you've done." Fig said, seeing how exhausted you still were.

You nodded before letting yourself drift off into a peaceful slumber, the most peaceful you've had in a long time. Fig smiled before he leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, thinking to himself, 'I could use some shut eye too.'

[gosmigenergy]

DRINK AROUND THE WORLD

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: After the boys promised to take you to Disney, you and Benny take on the challenge of drinking around the world. 

Warnings: Mentions of Food, Mentions of Drink, Alcohol Consumption, Intoxication, Crying, Language, Nickname/Pet Names, No use of Y/N

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 5.9k

Author’s Notes: Hi, so this felt like it took me forever to write for such a short fic but honestly there’s been some crazy stuff irl, including a family member’s health, that knocked me for six. In the end, I just wanted something wholesome, maybe a little bit silly featuring the boys to make me feel better. Also I’m an absolute lightweight when it comes to drinking so surviving eleven drinks is witchcraft to me! (Also apologies if anyone sees this without a Read More click, my head is a sieve atm...)

“Can we start yet?”

You and the boys had been in the park for what feels like a lifetime. Arriving at Epcot early, they insisted on getting on the Guardians of the Galaxy ride before it got too busy, even though it went backwards and you didn’t want to go on it if it went in reverse. Then you wandered aimlessly for a ‘look around’ and yes, the topiaries shaped like characters and other spectacular creations were beautiful to look at but everyone knew why they were really here.

Santiago arched one brow, “You still want to do this, honey?”

You were giddy, the literal manifestation of a kid in Disney World but it wasn’t because you were in line to meet the princesses or about to embark Journey Into Imagination with Figment.

Sighing, he looked at his watch.

He watched the hands change to 1 o’clock exactly and glanced over to Will, who nodded in return.

Santiago pointed a finger at Benny then you then back to Benny.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Benny nods, his smile widening as he grabs you by the wrist and drags you away. You smile so innocently at Santiago that it pulls at his heartstrings, there was no way in hell you were ready for this.

“You remember your roles?”

He queries Will and Frankie when you’re out of ear shot. How could they forget when Santiago pulled them to one side on the way back to the room last night? They sat by the pool area as he rolled out instructions with military precision. He wanted everyone to have fun, sure, but this was you and there was a strong probability this could go wrong.

“She’ll be fine, Pope, Benny knows her limits.”

“How many drinks has Bunny had in front of us?”

Will’s brows furrowed, the sudden realisation that he’s seen you drink three, maybe four, enough to make you giggly. This was going to be eleven in a row if you make it that far and his brother’s an encourager.

Frankie shrugs, “You make it sound like you’ve never inflicted her with anything.”

“Alcohol is different to that Aphrodite shit, we know that,” Santiago retorted.

“She’ll be fine, brother.”

Will was assuring himself more than Santiago, especially when he saw you and Benny returning with your first drinks.

“What is that?”

“Whatever she ordered,” Benny retorted to Santiago.

Frankie watched as you took the first sip and your expression scrunched.

“Don’t drink it if you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that, it’s just really strong.”

He thrusts out a hand and you pass it to him. Pursing his lips, he takes a sip before delivering a wheezy laugh.

“Jesus Christ.”

Rather than going for the variety of beer on offer, you decided to follow a list you found online. The cocktail you chose was mostly whisky and you’re pretty sure the tender gave you a little extra.

You giggle as he gives it back. Your eye flit to Benny as he tilts his head back to down his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the liquid goes down with ease.

“Don’t you dare.”

You blink at Santiago whose eyes are barely visible behind his sunglasses, however you could picture them perfectly.

“I wasn’t going to,” you say shyly, eyes breaking away.

Rule one was not to try and keep up with Benny.

Before he was a fighter, he had a reputation for being the last one standing at the bar, you would never keep up. The last time he gave you a shot, you immediately grabbed Will and insisted you needed to go home.

Benny finished his drink, “Where to next?”

“I thought we could just follow the route, seems easier.”

Frankie unfurls the map from his pocket, his slopping nose almost in the paper to hide his concern.

“Where are you thinking about getting food?”

“America.”

The noise Frankie made doesn’t make Santiago feel confident, he wonders what was in that cocktail, whether he should have made a rule about not mixing alcohol but that wouldn’t have been fair.

“Wait, where’d they go?”

Will was finishing the end of your drink, “They’re already off to the UK.”

“These two are gonna be the death of me.”

Benny and you were already lined up against the bar when the rest of them caught up.

“I’m not sure you’ll like this one.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever had Guinness before?”

“Once, maybe,” you sounded so unsure.

“Cider?”

“Of course I’ve had cider, Benny, your mum served it to us warm, remember?”

He shook his head, “That’s not the same.”

The bartender slipped over two pints with frothy tops and an almost black liquid that turned golden at the bottom. Benny paid and carried them both to the table that Will had managed to snag in the corner.

You and Benny cheered, clunking the plastic glasses together before taking a drink. You barely swallow before you gag. Frankie stifled a laugh behind his hand, body shaking as Will began to crack.

In France, the five of you sat on the wrought-iron tables by the water, Frankie and Will joining you in having an Orange Slush. Santiago snuck away, reappearing with a croissant, just a little something to keep you going, he said.

He did however join you for a drink in Morocco, where the Iced Mint Tea came with a refreshing, surprising punch. He knew you were getting tipsy, your eyelids were getting heavier, your voice rising a couple of decibels and though your fake boyfriend was Benny, your hands were over all of them.

Frankie discreetly sipped your drink when your back was turned or when Will distracted you.

“She’s doing great,” Benny elbowed Santiago.

“You’re only four drinks in,” he responds flatly. “We’ll see how she’s fairing after number five.”

Drink number five took a while to get to, your fuzzy mind easily succumbing to the attaching store with Japanese merchandise.

“Please can we go in?”

Your eyes became wide and puppy like, your eyelashes fluttering until one of them caved.

“Come on then, sweetheart…”

You squealed, bouncing on your toes as Will stepped forward. You grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his without a care in the world. He simply leaned into it, not caring about the possibility of someone seeing you with him instead of his brother.

“You want a new plushie?”

Your lips skew, “It depends what they have.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Santiago hoped the shopping trip would be enough for you to get the tiniest bit sober.

Inside, your concentration was short, everything was distracting. You’d jumped from Hello Kitty to Pokemon to Studio Ghibli, from kimonos to tea to candles without making a decision.

“Do you think Santiago would do a face mask?”

Will found you in the beauty section, clinging onto five different types of face masks, inspecting the backs though the words were blurry at the edges.

“I’m sure he’d do one for you.”

Your sigh seems disheartened.

“What’s up, Bunny?”

“Is he mad with me?”

When you didn’t look round, he began to question whether your eyes had got glossy, tears threatening to fall.

“He’s not mad, just… concerned.”

You sigh again, “I want us all to have fun, not just me and Benny.”

He offers you the basket in his hand and you place the face mask carefully in before turning around. There was an understanding that he shared that he didn’t necessarily need to say aloud, Santiago wasn’t the best when plans went astray and he was doing his best to keep everything on track.

“And I know what he’s doing or you’re doing or maybe it’s all of you…”

Will cocks his head as he can see your brain trying to put two and two together, concentration plastered on your face.

“But tell Frankie to buy his own drinks.”

He laughs at your comment, “Anything else?”

“I can’t decide on a plushie.”

“Well, we could just get these and come back when you’re sober.”

You bite your bottom lip, “How bad am I?”

“Getting a little handsy,” he shrugs, it’s why he already put snacks in the basket for later.

Benny checked his phone for the time, you had been gone for almost half an hour and he could feel the chill coming from Santiago’s gaze.

“I’m gonna buy the drinks ready.”

“Make it non-alcoholic.”

“I’m not doing that, she wants to do the challenge, let her do the challenge.”

Santiago didn’t respond as he walked away. When doing your research, you showed Benny the drink you wanted, violet in colour with a light up ice cube and that’s what you were getting.

Frankie waved as he saw you and Will come out of the entrance. Seeing that Benny was missing, you scurry off to find him as Will went to join the others.

“That’s a pretty small bag,” Frankie tipped his head to the bag in Will’s hand.

“I said I’d take her back when she’s sober.”

“So, she knows she’s tipsy?”

“Uh-huh,” Will closes in on them both. “She also knows Frankie should be getting his own drinks.”

Santiago pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that Will didn’t catch, he just knew he was pissed.

“I would actually like that,” Frankie quipped.

“Pope, we’ve dealt with so much more than a drunk girl at a theme park.”

He knew that, Santiago just didn’t like it.

But then he caught you out of the corner of his eye. Clutching a plastic cup, you were beaming at Benny who took your hand to ensure you weren’t led in the opposite direction. You were undeniably happy, dressed for the occasion with a pair of Minnie ears and a spring in your step.

This was the first mini vacation with all of them present and his stomach rolled with guilt at his behaviour.

“Wanna try?”

This was the deciding moment.

He leaned back at first before taking it from your hand. Taking a sip, the sugar hurt his teeth and with a grunt he clutched his jaw.

“Where’s the sake?”

“Oh, so now you want me to have alcohol!”

“As much as you like honey.”

You go to take back the drink except he leans further against the railing, head tipped up with a smug smile. Huffing, you fold your arms and scowl.

“Not until I have another sip.”

By the time you make it to the restaurant in America, you can’t think straight. You’re surrounded by brick walls with blue, red and white fabric handing from the ceiling, patriotic music playing under the hive of screaming kids and constant conversation.

There wasn’t much choice on the menu but your hands started to go clammy when you realised the words didn’t make any sense.

“Benny,” you call his name in a hushed tone, his head hung low like he’s almost fallen asleep. “What are you getting?”

“The burger.”

“Is that on the menu?”

He opens up his hands, “Is it really America if a burger isn’t on the menu?”

Was he always this cryptic?

Will passed his phone along for everyone to make their choices and as the phone got closer to you, you stiffen.

“Bunny,” Frankie waved the phone in front of you.

His lips are parted under his moustache and suddenly that’s all you can focus on, that bottom lip just waiting to be bitten. The knot between his eyebrows tightens and you suddenly realise you’re not talking even though he’s said your name, your actual name.

“Uuuu—“

“She can’t see the menu,” Benny leaned in from behind you, coming into Frankie’s periphery.

Your cheeks grow hot as you press your lips together so hard they disappear.

“I’ll just order what I think you’ll like.”

A plate was placed in front of you and you were grateful Frankie did the ordering because fries topped with macaroni cheese and onion rings would definitely soak up the alcohol churning in your stomach. You also drank water, waiting until you got outside to order a Frozen Mint Julep.

Though the food hadn’t helped as much as you’d prayed it would.

You found yourself pressed between Will and Santiago as you walk, the pair of them keeping you on track to Italy.

As Benny went to get your drink, you looked up at the looming columns, squinting to try and make out the statues at the top, fully believing they weren’t there earlier. A hand came swiftly to your waist, gripping tightly as a shoulder propped your head back.

“Don’t think I’ll be doing that again,” your tongue is loose, the words luckily sounding right.

“You almost lost your ears, Bunny.”

You gasp, “Thank you, Santi!”

It was a poor excuse, he’d admit it but he could see your back arching in such a perfect curve that you were seconds away from hitting the floor. He set the ears firmly back on your head as you gave him a lopsided grin.

Benny returned with another frozen drink for you.

“Another frozen one?”

“They’ve not all been frozen, there was that one you liked… and that other one. Wait, what number am I on?”

“Seven, cariño.”

“So, when are you lot having your next round?”

Benny wrapped his arm around his brother and his best friend, his cheeks pink yet a broad smile set on his face.

“Where are we going next?”

“Germany,” Santiago glanced over his shoulder, holding onto you as you slowly sucked on a straw. Your doe eyes moved from people watching, honing in on his jaw where his stubble was getting longer.

Oh, the urge to touch it.

“I could do with a beer,” Will said.

“Yes, brother!”

It was the point in the drinking marathon where Benny forgot his own strength. The pat on the back he gave Will took the wind out of him and Frankie was almost wrestled to the ground as Benny’s arms locked around his neck.

There was a possibility the five of you could get kicked out of the park. Santiago felt something irritating on his chin, distracting him from what was unfolding.

“You’re getting a beard,” you stroke a fingertip over it.

He hummed, “You like it?”

“I dunno,” you say, eyes narrowing.

Ducking his head, his mouth came to the shell of your ear and you heard the smirk form on his lips.

“You won’t be saying that when you feel it between your thighs.”

The words travel, sinking to the bottom of your belly and something breaks through the alcohol induced fog in your mind.

“Oh.”

“You ready, Bunny?”

Your head snaps round to Benny, his head cocking to one side when he sees your startled expression. Smiling, you slip from Santiago and hold Benny’s outstretched hand. Yet you take a second look, a fleeting glance because you knew you were in danger, not tonight but soon.

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, just discussing my beard.”

Frankie grunted, he hated how his friend could grow a beard far better than he ever could.

In Will’s hand was a half serving of grapefruit beer that appeared comically small in comparison to his full one.

“It should have a citrusy flavour,” he says.

The main thing you can taste is beer and you weren’t sure, after the cocktails and slushies this wasn’t the same.

“Chug, chug, chug.”

“Benny, stop it, Santiago told me not to.”

Benny stared at his leader, his green eyes pleading with him. There isn’t a word spoken between them, a series of gestures causing Santiago to cave.

“The rules went out the window three countries ago, honey.”

“And we all know you can swallow.”

Frankie choked, erupting into laughter as Will shook his head.

“Benny, you’re gonna end up in Disney Jail with that mouth.”

He scoffs, “The jail isn’t real.”

“It is!” You almost spill your drink with the sheer enthusiasm of how you slap his chest, “I’ve seen the stories online.”

“They wouldn’t put me in there anyway,” he block his chest with his arms.

“And why’s that?”

There was genuine curiosity in your question.

“Because I look like that guy from the Tron sequel.”

You start to have a fit of giggles, at least Santiago looked enough like Poe Dameron to get hassled by the Stormtroopers at Galaxy’s Edge. The others were chuckling too.

“What?”

“Ten years ago, maybe,” Will countered.

Only his comment made you laugh more, the pain entering your ribs as it hurt to keep a straight face. You weren’t denying that Benny had some resemblance, it was years of being out on the battle field and then being in the ring that made him rougher around the edges. The guy in the film was baby faced or so you can remember.

Benny glared, “Now, you have to chug.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“You hurt my feelings, the only way to make me happy is to chug.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

His one eyebrow raised.

Maybe there was somewhere private the pair of you could go, a hidden away corner, how busy would the bathrooms be? He had to push back the thoughts because he could not be horny in a theme park.

“Don’t give him any options, Bunny, just do it.”

All their eyes fell on you as you brought the rim of the plastic glass to your lips. You tipped it back cautiously at first before tipping your head back and screwing your eyes shut. The pink golden liquid went down all too easily and you heard Benny cheer as the last drop hit your tongue.

When you open your eyes, they’re all beaming at you. A sudden hiccup comes from deep in your chest and you press a hand to where your diaphragm is.

“That sounded like it hurt,” Will’s eyes flitted up and down your frame.

You nod, wincing as another one comes but as he steps forward to check on you, you wave him off.

“It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

The hiccups subside yet they were replaced, you felt lightheaded and your legs were legitimately turning into jelly. Frankie saw you flagging, giving you a helping hand across the bridge to China for drink number nine but you were beginning to regret your decision on the challenge.

You swirled your straw and watched the blueberry boba dance in between the ice. Your one arm was looped into Frankie’s as he slowly guided you to the next country, the other three going on ahead.

“Cariño,” he glanced down, expecting you to look up, “you’ve gone quiet on me.”

With those words, you grind to a halt. It’s like you wait for the other three to fold into the crowds before you break.

“I’m not going to make it, this was such a stupid idea.”

You immediately cover your face and you can’t stop the tears from coming. Frankie went from laid back to full blown military mode the moment your words caught in your throat. He got you away from the oncoming public, finding the nearest, tucked away corner he could spot from his vantage point.

There wasn’t a soul around them.

“Bunny,” his voice was gentle, his fingertips wrapping round the cup. “Look at me.”

Placing the remains of your drink on the wall, he pulls your focus to his face. He holds your cheeks with his broad hands, thumbs catching the tears before they could go any further. He breathed with you, in and out through your noses because that’s the way you’re meant to do it.

You fall so deep into his brown eyes, the park seemed to fade away and you grab his wrists to steady yourself.

“There we go, better?”

You blinked out of your hypnosis, nodding.

“How did yo—“

“Had my fair share of freak outs.”

A soft smile returns to your lips as you try to wipe away the mess that you assume is around your eyes, your makeup may or may not be waterproof.

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Your teeth graze the flesh on the inside of your cheek as you play with your hands, the straw you’d been fidgeting with taken away.

“When I’ve had this much I usually embarrass myself or throw up or both and that’s not happened yet. Then I know Santiago will judge me and say how he knew this was gonna happen and Will will take pity on me and drag my sick covered front back to the hotel and Benny would laugh and go on about it for weeks…”

Frankie couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, none of them would do that to you.

Ok, Benny would laugh, nervously, because he wouldn’t know how to react and then would go and vomit himself. Will would more than likely take off his shirt and walk around topless if he had to. Santiago would pay a fortune to get a taxi ten minutes out of Epcot or even further, Disney World itself to get you to the comfort of your own bed. Whilst Frankie, he would happily get you back to the hotel room and hold your hair all night whilst you continued to chuck up processed food into the toilet. He’d tap out only to head down to the food hall and pay fucking fifteen dollars for a big carton of fruit to get those vitamins back in your system.

They wouldn’t be embarrassed, they wouldn’t let you be embarrassed and if someone had made you feel that way for having fun and going a little overboard in the past, he wanted to initiate some form of pain to make him feel better. However, his only concern now was the fact you hadn’t taken a breath.

He squeezed your shoulder, a staggering breath from you followed.

“We’d never do that to you, you know that right?”

You splutter out a laugh as you nod your head, your mind was clearly playing tricks on you.

“There’s only two more to go and I kinda owe you a drink.”

“Yeah, you do.”

He puts his thumb back to your cheek and removes the last stray tears before bringing you close. He coils an arm around your back, pressing you into his chest to hear his soothing heartbeat. You could contentedly spend the rest of your time like this but your feet were itching to go.

“I’m gonna finish my boba,” you stretch to grab the cup, “they might help line my stomach.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna help.”

When the pair of you arrive at Norway, you excuse yourself to go and check your reflection, Frankie went and found the others.

“How’s she doing?”

“Just a little bump in the road,” he shrugged as if it was nothing.

In the distance, they heard a cast member call someone out for running and Santiago knew it could only be one person. He caught you speed walking round the corner, waiting until there were no more watchful eyes to continue running.

“We should go and meet Anna and Elsa,” you bang your hands on the table.

“I’m down for that.”

Benny shut his mouth before he expressed that Elsa was hot.

“I’m sure the princesses would prefer to not meet two intoxicated town folk,” Will passed you a pretzel shaped pastry. “Maybe another day.”

Your food is accompanied by a Frozen Viking Coffee because they thought it was a better option than beer, they’d live with the repercussions of you being buzzed.

“Did you get told off for running?”

Santiago had that smug look across his face as the heat in your cheeks rose.

“Maybe.”

Will gave you that smile that makes you soften at the edges and now it was hard to look at either of them.

“I’m getting the next round.”

“You serious, Fish?” Benny got a glint in his eye. “You know Mexico is next and we could finish the day with—“

“We are not having shots.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone’s gotta make it back.”

Benny sighed but then he saw your shimmering, wide eyes looking back at him, the drink they got you going down way too fast. Honestly, he thought you would have been defeated by now, possibly a crying, drunken mess but you weren’t. He was proud of you.

“I’m gonna win,” your words don’t come out that precise.

“Of course you are, Bunny.”

His words are equally as slurred.

There was a novelty in watching you and Benny try to make it to Mexico. The location was obvious, a brown brick pyramid that was a beckon to where you needed to go except you two were going straight past it.

“We’ll head to the bar, you grab them.”

Will nodded, wandering over to the pair of you to an accompanying cheer.

Santiago and Frankie find the most popular bar in the place, by some miracle snatching the last table.

Somehow, the three of you make it inside the pyramid and immediately you comment on how dark it was. Will had your arm hooked in his, his brother refusing help even as he stumbled down the steps. Giggling as you came in, there were drinks already on the table.

“I’m surprised you got them here in one piece.”

“We had a close call.”

Will wouldn’t go into details with Santiago, he didn’t know how he’d handle you falling up the stairs and almost cracking your head on a step if your instincts hadn’t kicked in and saved you.

“Not so fast, we’ve got to cheers first.”

Frankie made sure you took the one luminous green in colour before all five of you clinked your glasses and took a sip. You smacked your lips after to make sure you got the salt from your skin.

“Good?”

“Not as good as yours.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m not lying though,” you wink.

Frankie made the best margaritas, he would host special evenings just to make them, always finding the best bottle of tequila at barbecues. He also never added any fancy ingredients unlike this one, who needs avocado in a drink anyway?

You took your time with this one, sipped carefully and tried to embrace the moment. All of you sat round a table, laughing and joking. Benny had tucked you underneath his arm, pulled you in to lean you against his frame as you play footsie under the table with Will.

“I’m gonna head out for some nachos,” Benny unravels himself from you.

There were glances between Frankie and Will before Frankie suggests joining him.

“I’ve not finished my drink,” you moan.

Benny bent down, cupping one side of your face with his palm. He brings your attention fully to him.

“Don’t rush,” he kissed your cheek sloppily. “I really need to get some food down me.”

Then he crashes his lips into yours with so much force it knocks you back. As him and Frankie walk away, you start to giggle.

“He’s so drunk…”

Santiago chuckles.

“And so am I,” you thrust your arms up.

Will drops his head, smiling, “You ready to head back soon, sweetheart?”

“But what about the show?”

“You’re gonna fall asleep before the show starts, honey. We’re taking you and Benny back to the hotel.”

It was easier said than done.

The moment you stepped outside the pyramid, the fresh air hit you and suddenly came the realisation that you were intoxicated more than you’ve ever been in your lifetime. You freeze at the top of the stairs, the view ahead of you going fuzzy at the edges and there’s two Santiagos and two Wills.

“It’s ok, Bunny,” Will was stretching out his hand and taking one of yours firmly. “Hold onto the handrail.”

There were other sets of eyes on you, those you didn’t know as you shakily held onto the thick wooden rail, cautiously going down each individual step.

“If you make it to where benny and Fish are, I’ll carry you home, yeah?”

You deliver a feeble nod and slowly your feet catch up with what your brain is telling them. Wobbling, you move one foot in front of the other, nails burying into Will’s hand as you hold on for dear life. Frankie was trying not to laugh.

“You’re adorable when you’re drunk.”

“Shut up,” you whine at Benny before taking a chip from his depleted box.

“How are we gonna do this?”

Frankie was worried, it took you almost four minutes to do something that took him a minute.

“Don’t worry, I got this, brother.”

While you were distracted, Will crouched down and squeezed into the gap between you and Benny. Instinctively, Benny moved back as his brother grabbed behind your knees. You flopped forward, protesting as he lifted himself up, your arm ravelling around his neck to stay upright. He forced you a little higher so he could get a better hold before turning to Frankie, who stood with his mouth open.

Santiago shrugged, “I suppose it’ll work.”

“I lost my ears.”

“I’ll get your ears, honey.”

“Don’t stretch them.”

He rolled his eyes, why on earth would he put on neon pink ears with pom pom detailing and a massive yellow bow? They rattled as he picked them up and then he started to shake them like maracas.

“What have you done to them?” You ask accusingly.

“Nothing, you didn’t realise they did that?”

“No,” you throw out a hand, “gimme!”

Santiago stepped back, the corner of his lips curling. Will dug deeper into your thighs as you leaned further to try and nab the ears back. You huffed before giving up the fight, sulking against Will’s shoulder.

Seconds later, Santiago slipped them onto your head.

You don’t know why the boys were making such a fuss, you could have made it to the bus. The driver mentioned how you were all going to miss the show later but Santiago said you’d already had too much fun. You rested your eyes, head relaxing to Benny’s shoulder as he continued to talk and talk, barely making any sense.

“I’m gonna pick up something,” Frankie motioned to reception, leaving Will and Santiago to take care of you.

“Where’s Frankie going?”

“He won’t be long, sweetheart.”

You grumble something incoherently, staggering forward and following the group. They barely got you through the door before you were removing your clothes.

“Fuck, Bunny, at least let me close the door.”

However your mind was focused on getting into bed, pulling off your top and yanking down your jeans. Benny had already thrown himself onto the available queen, arms spread wide, hopeful that you’d join him. You strip to a cute lilac underwear set, thinking this morning that at least one of them would see them.

Benny’s eyes flit up and down, he likes what he sees but as you step wobbling towards him, he’s aware he’s not going to get any action. You crawl and snuggle into his frame with an exasperated sigh.

“Aw, you tired, baby?”

Even in your clouded head, you knew Benny had never called you that before, you blame the alcohol. You respond with a single grunt, eyes already closed.

He envelops your body, lightly touching the areas he hasn’t seen all day. Your sigh comes softer this time, limbs relaxing as you settle your head into the crook of his neck. You note the citrusy undertones of his aftershave as you breathe him in, your final big breath before sleep takes you.

Feeling your weight slump, he kisses you on the cheek and temple just as he gets himself comfy.

When Frankie arrives, the two of you are out for the count, Santiago and Will having snuck onto the balcony.

“How much did that cost you?”

Frankie glanced at the plastic container in his hand, “All my snack credits.”

Santiago scoffed, “Thought you were gonna have a turkey leg.”

“I ain’t eating that shit.”

He’d seen them, they looked questionable, no turkey leg should be that big. Ducking back inside, he placed the fruit in the kitchenette before grabbing himself a drink, joining them to watch the sunset.

Benny’s arm had gone dead and his mouth was dry. He tactfully got himself out from underneath you though he’s sure you’re so far gone, you’ll be out the rest of the night. He unbuttoned his shirt and abandoned it on the bed with his hat, walking unsteadily around the room to find water.

He found a litre bottle and went to the balcony, opening the door a fraction to keep the sound from travelling in.

You don’t know what brought you out of your slumber but the awareness of being on your own was enough to get you out of bed.

“Fuck,” you say, stumbling from the tall bed frame.

Bleary eyed, you blink and wait for the room to come into view. It took a minute or two for you to remember where you were, turning to face a giant painting of Donald Duck with his three nephews on a hike. You decide to freshen your face, wiping off the make up before splashing yourself with cold water.

Picking up Benny’s appropriately themed shirt, you throw it on and then spot Santiago’s sunglasses on the giant chest.

“There she is!”

Your expression scrunches, “Argh, Benny, too much.”

The boys had managed to move the table inside and squeezed all the chairs they could on the balcony.

“There’s some fruit in the kitchenette, let me get it you.”

Frankie climbed over the back of his seat to get out, wrapping his arm around your waist to bring you a fraction closer. His lips meet your temple gently.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and went inside.

“Whose lap you gonna sit on?”

“No offence to Will and Santiago, you’re closest.”

“None taken,” Will was cradling a beer, shoved in the far corner by the railing.

Hooking your leg over the arm of the chair, you bring up the other and settle on Benny. His arm coils around you as he reaches down for the bottle of water and you gladly take it from him.

You gasp as Frankie returns with the carton of fruit, enough to last you the next few days. He hoisted himself back over the chair, settling down once again.

Benny propped his chin on your shoulder, opening his mouth as you pluck some berries from the pack. He sucks the juices from your fingers as you place them in his mouth.

“Can we see the fireworks from here?”

Santiago looks around the group, hoping someone else would admit it, there was no way in hell they were going to pay over a hundred dollars more just to see a bunch of pretty lights.

“Pool side view, sorry, honey.”

He didn’t like to disappoint you but you seemed unfazed.

“They probably want a fortune for it anyway,” you shrug, “and I think I’m ok with the view right here.”

They all groan at how cheesy it sounds, knowing that you were talking about them and not the fake mountainous waterfall down below.

“You’re gonna make Pope throw up, Bunny.”

You shove some fruit in Benny’s mouth to shut him up.

“I’m coming out in hives just being here.”

Rolling your eyes, you allow them to continue with their banter. You’re grateful you didn’t put into words what you were thinking in your head because, sure, people say Disney is the happiest place on earth but you believe here is even happier.

[nevernotswagging]

Tokyo Revenger Boys and Head

Includes: Mikey, Draken, Hanma,

Warnings: NSFW, oral (male receiving) dirty talk, degrading kink.

Mikey:

-> If that’s what you insist who is Mikey to restrict you of your own needs.

-> Man’s will gladly shove his pants down without sparing any other thoughts.

-> And yes you have had to stop him from freeing the ween out in public.

-> Asks you to give him head under the table during a private Toman meeting with all the division captains.

-> I feel like Mikey would request for you to suck his dick in the most random scenarios.

-> Tells you about all his fantasies

-> Mikey’s a ‘You like that?’ Kind of guy, don’t bother arguing with me.

-> he’s also 100% a kiss and tell kind of guy so best believe his whole friend group has heard part of what goes on in the bedroom. That’s if they chose to listen.

Mikey’s hooded eyes followed your every movement as you bobbed your head up and down. His hands were at his side gripping onto whatever he could get a grip on.

He’d occasionally thrust himself into your mouth. Letting out a muffled “you like that?” Whenever you would moan against his cock.

He absolutely adored the way you sucked his dick with so much passion, the way you would roll your eyes back and allow him to use and abuse your throat.

Draken:

-> As much as he loves your lips around him, he hates making you give him head all the time.

-> He knows that he’s not small.

-> He tries to hold himself back from his own urges but the second you start pleading for his dick in your mouth he immediately folds.

-> You honestly fuel his ego whenever you suck his dick just because you can’t take the whole thing.

-> I feel like most of the time Draken is very soft and caring when your giving him head, unless you request for otherwise.

-> He’d caress your cheek lovingly and brush your hair out of your face whenever it would fall.

Draken smiled lovingly down at you when he saw that you were staring up at him through your eyelashes. “Doing good, Love.” The way he’d run his fingers through your hair soothed you but also turned you on when he’d occasionally tug on your hair.

He watched intently at the way you tried to force the whole of him down your throat with fail but nevertheless he was happy with the pleasure that he was experiencing. “We’ll ease you into taking all of me one day, don’t worry.”

Hanma:

-> If you didn’t like sucking dick before meeting him then you better get used to this because he would pull you into the other room just to get himself off.

-> And this is almost a daily occurrence. At least he expects it to be a daily occurrence.

-> He loves spending time with you, more specifically when his dick is shoved down your throat.

-> ‘I knew I made a good choice by picking you’ he’d groan when you leaned over to whisper in his ear how you wanted to slurp him up.

-> He’s a head pusher, it’s practically his last name. ‘What’s the matter?’ He’d ask teasingly while wiping away your tears.

-> And, ‘You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed.’

“Could you be anymore pathetic?” Hanma chuckled at the way that you whined against his dick. He was supposed to be in a meeting right now but the way that you pushed yourself against him told him exactly what you were thinking. “You just love the thought of everyone knowing what dirty things your doing their boss, don’t you?”

Hanma groaned at the sound of you gagging as he held your head down to take all of him. “Fuuuck!” He dragged out. “Those motherfuckers wish they were me.”

[msfbgraves]

So, I love to watch videos of people reacting for the first time to movies. Almost every time I’ve watched people reacting to The Godfather movies, I’ve noticed that a large chunk of people (especially men, true, but surprisingly a LOT of women) all hate or strongly dislike Kay. Even growing up, both my parents disliked Kay lol, I remember.

It’s surprising to me, as I like all the women in the trilogy (yes, even Mary! Her character is sweet and affectionate, and I love how close she is with her dad!), and I always did like Kay…though I admit, I simply don’t like her with Michael after he decides to join the family business. Apollonia would have been the best fit. Besides, in Part 3, Michael sobs when Anthony sings the love song and thinks of Apollonia and their wedding even years later. And he chooses to return to Sicily to sit and brood/die in the place where they spent time together. That says it all, for me.

I can't say I've spent a lot of time on whether or not I liked Kay or Apollonia or both or neither in relation to these films. I remember watching the second film with my mother, and when the dancing scene between Michael and Kay came up, she said: "Hm. She's frightened."

I do find it surprising how many people make it about liking or not liking either or both of Michael's wives, when discussing the films as a whole. Kay doesn't fit into the mob world, that's the whole point of her, that's why Michael chose her initially, and that's why the audience may not like her - she sticks out like a sore thumb. She shouldn't be there. She agrees! That has nothing to do with how good she would have been for Michael. I do like Kay, the girl has guts. And I think that Apollonia and Michael would have made a fantastic mob marriage.

Michael ghosted Kay, and that is a shit way to break up whatever the circumstances, and by rights, they should have stayed broken up. Michael would have been nothing but a cad boyfriend who turned into a criminal, so people would have said she dodged a bullet.

Ah, but it isn't that simple, is it. If you share your time and love with someone, there will always be some form of bond. Whether or not you act on it is a completely different matter, and I feel Michael should have started fresh, and left Kay the hell alone. He could have written to break up, thank her and tell her to build a life without her. Or simply let her be one of those sacrifices you make, the same he later asks of Vincent. This life isn't good for Kay.

Would it have been good for Apollonia? I think she might have been more familiar with the codes of mob life, I think both Vito and Carmella would have adored her, I think it could have worked out beautifully. She probably wouldn't have felt the need to escape, or that the American life was better than what she left, she wouldn't feel so torn because she knew her roots. Maybe her children may have felt less at ease, but their father would have grown up completely American and helped them.

But it was not to be. Michael already gave up Kay for the life, and I believe him when he says he thought of her. And I believe in love at first sight with Apollonia, and he lost her, and I feel that if Apollonia is gone completely, maybe he can rekindle the love bond with Kay? And he does, under force, and they spend more time as husband and wife, and of course this strengthens that bond as well. But Kay is unhappy, so she breaks it off this time, and yet Michael refuses to let go of that bond (who do you think Mary gets it from)?

Apollonia and Michael is more romantic, less stressful - the fairytale his mob life cannot be. Kay is more realistic. They share a strong young love, and later, at Michael's absolute insistence, a very painful marriage, and Michael loves her and he loves Apollonia because I think that this is something that can happen. You can love two different people, if you want -widowed people do love again, and that doesn't negate the love they lost. Now of course, there may be sexism going on. A woman should simply be pretty and quiet, huh? Do we know a single of Apollonia's opinions other than her wanting to drive and not wanting to bother with English? Whereas Kay actually challenges Michael the way a wife has a right to challenge her spouse! And some people don't want to challenge their spouse and that is fine too! The point is that a marriage should work between two people and Michael's and Kay's didn't and Kay was the one calling that long before Michael, if she does love him. And Michael does not want to give it up. It's tragic, but it isn't Kay's sole fault. Again, she did move on. She rejeced his proposal, or tried to, he didn't want to hear no, she left him, he won't let her be, because he can't let go of emotional bonds apparently.

And who is to say who Apollonia might have become? These films are so very rarely interested in the world of these women, only looking at them in how they affect the men. And that's fine, the films are about Michael. But it's unfair to reduce all the other characters as people to how they relate to Michael. I promise you, if anyone ever made a biopic of my father, you wouldn't get to know everything there is to know about me simply by watching how I relate to him, or vice versa. People are allowed to exist however good they are, or not, for other people.

[arwenlalaith]

The Deadliest of Sins

Ship: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: An UNSUB is determined to expose the rampant seven deadly sins in the DC community and you accidentally find yourself living out Lust...

Word Count: 1358

Author's Note: This fills the Sex Pollen square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card. It's also a sequel to "At Your Service" and "Yes, Daddy".

“Maybe we should wait for the crime scene techs?” Emily suggested, watching you step further into the ransacked lab where the team suspected the UNSUB concocted his substances.

“There isn’t time,” you insisted, pulling a pair of gloves out of your pocket and putting them on. She didn’t seem entirely convinced, judging by the way she remained at the threshold. She may have complete and utter control over you sexually, but she didn’t outrank you in the field, so you chose to ignore her silent protest and continued picking through the wreckage.

The UNSUB seemed to be making some kind of statement about society and the seven deadly sins. He was targeting Alphas and dosing them with some mystery substance that forced them to act out one of the deadly sins; his latest attack had been on an MMA gym, causing the patrons to beat each other to bloody pulps in an act of wrath. He’d been through four of the seven sins already and his timeline was escalating.

You weren’t going to let Emily’s uncharacteristically cautious attitude stop you from making a break in the case...

“I really think...” she started to say.

And, in that exact same moment, you tripped on a wire strung at ankle level, activating some kind of booby trap that released a pressurized canister of powder built into the ceiling and sealing the doors and windows shut.

You had a feeling there was a big ‘I told you so...’ coming your way.

...

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily said, nervously bouncing her foot as you waited to be seen by a doctor.

“I’m fine,” you insisted for the umpteenth time. “It probably doesn’t even work on Omegas.” Even as you said that, you were mentally undressing her – it didn’t help that the topmost button on her blouse was straining against its seam, threatening to pop open at any moment. You could see just a hint of lace peeking out and it had you nearly salivating.

“Y/N?” Emily prompted, her tone indicating that it wasn’t the first time she’d said it.

That was when you realized you’d been staring. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, attempting to jump-start speech...and failing. You shook your head to clear out the cobwebs, then tried again, “I... I want...”

You barely had time to process the fact that you were leaning in before your lips landed on hers and you were kissing her as if your life depended on it. Your fingers were already fumbling with the zipper of her jeans, desperate to touch her and for her to touch you...only she wasn’t.

“Emily...” you whined between kisses, finally getting her zipper down.

She wrapped her fingers around your wrists to halt your progress, though you continued to struggle against her grip. “Y/N,” she said firmly, “Stop.”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong,” you insisted, fighting her grip on your wrists, “I just want...”

“Baby, look at me,” she said gently, tipping your chin up so you were forced to meet her gaze. “Your pupils are completely blown – whatever you were dosed with is clearly effecting you.”

“But... I thought... Weren’t they working on an antidote?” you stammered, struggling to comprehend the situation, especially when Emily was still within kissing distance.

She shook her head, doing her best to remain calm. “There’s not enough time to perfect it for your specific situation.” She paused for a moment, exhaled slowly to calm herself. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do...” she started.

You shook your head, interrupting her, “I-I can’t... I can’t wait, I have to...” You shook your head again. Your self-control was starting to fray and it was all you could do to restrain yourself from jumping on her and absolutely ravaging her. She seemed to sense this and grabbed your hand, tugging you towards the exit. “But...” you stammered, “What about...”

“No time.” She managed to get you as far as the car before you officially lost all control, pressing her up against the car and kissing her with desperate need.

“Emily...” you whined between kisses, “Emily, I need you, please...” You were literally trembling and couldn't seem to regain control of your senses. Sweat beaded on your brow and you felt decidedly feverish. All you could think about was cumming as quickly and as many times as possible.

“Get in the car, Baby,” Emily said gently, reaching behind her to open the door.

You climbed into the backseat, already bunching your dress up around your waist. Emily climbed in behind you, patting her lap in silent indication that you should straddle her. Quick to obey, you manoeuvred yourself into position and found her lips once again.

Delving her tongue into your mouth, she pushed your panties to the side and slid two fingers into your dripping cunt, swallowing your moan as she did so. You broke free from the kiss to toss your head back as you began to ride her fingers with enthusiasm.

As far as unfortunate situations went, you couldn’t help but think that this one wasn’t really all that bad...not that you’d admit that out loud, of course. As quickly as you had that thought, though, it was just as quickly ushered from your mind as Emily’s fingers found your clit. You bucked your hips sharply and tossed your head back, body thrumming with need.

“Emily,” you panted, “Emily!”

“I know, Baby,” she purred, “I know... You need to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy! Please, Daddy!”

She grinned smugly. In spite of the situation and its less than desirable circumstances, she couldn’t help but be pleased with the result. “Cum for me, Baby,” she coaxed. “Daddy gives you permission.” The thrusts of your hips became erratic and sloppy as you neared your climax and she continued to egg you on with her words and her thumb on your clit, until you finally came with a cry of her name. “God, you’re gorgeous, Baby,” she purred as she popped your breast out of your dress so she could lean in and take your nipple into her mouth.

“Fuck me!” you cried out, the sensation of her fingers still moving inside you combined with the way she worked your nipple with her lips, teeth, and tongue sending you into sensory overdrive.

She chuckled against your breast. “If you insist...” she said, all cockiness and mischievousness. With an arm wrapped around your waist, she flipped the two of you so you were laying on the seat and she was hovering over top of you, then proceeded to tear your panties clean off.

She slotted her knee between your legs so that the fabric of her jeans was rubbing up against your bare cunt. “You wanna cum, Baby?” she taunted, “Go right ahead. Rut against my thigh like the little bitch you are.”

Whining petulantly, you fluttered your lashes up at her as if that would be of any sway. (Spoiler alert: it was not.)

“Don’t whine, Baby,” she said firmly, “You don’t have to do it...but I also don’t have to let you cum.”

With a little huff, you realized she had you over a barrel here and reluctantly began moving your hips, chasing your climax against her thigh.

You managed to cum once, twice, three more times without her touching you. You were beginning to feel the strain on your body: muscles tense, taught, and shaking; cunt raw from the friction of her denim; sweat soaking your dress and making your hair stick to your forehead. But you also hadn’t quite gotten the drug out of your system and you knew you needed to keep going...

Before you could cum yet again, though, there was a knock on the window, following by a light shining into the vehicle. Emily was quick to throw a blanket over you before rolling down the window, turning to the interloper and plastering on her best politician smile.

She breathed a sigh of relief, though, let out a small nervous laugh. “Jesus, Jayje...you scared the hell out of me!” she exclaimed.

“You do know there’s this thing called public indecency, right?” she said dryly.

[bestworstcase]

You ain't wrong about fndm's lady/dude crit imbalance. I've noticed so much whataboutism & overlapping insistence that Oz/Qrow/Tai did their absolute best given [magic special forces duties], [hell world full of hell beasts] and/or [Salem/Raven's Selfish Dippage/Supermom's Loss], often with a side of 'you're just being blinkered stans who can't accept when ur waifu mains have flaws that need a-fixin' or should Get Over Themselves & Stick With The Program'. I mean, no denying the STRQ guys would be leagues less dysfunctional were it not for their situation's unique pressures and the immortals' contributions thereof (ditto for Ozlem thanks to the Bros), but I still don't think that causality chain fully corroborates this 'naught but vindicated put-upon sensei figures, the Bad Moms Doing Badness exonerate everything, it's Just How This World Works, we've been over this, STFU already' perspective nursed by long-haul fanposters and tons of general watchers.

truly. although i will say i Don’t think it’s fair to judge qrow as a parent because he wasn’t one, in either the biological sense (uncle) or legal (did not have custody) or familial (not a member of the household). so while certainly there are things he could have done better (gotten sober) (quit taking missions from oz for the sake of being around more to help out) (confronted tai about the wagon incident—tho we don’t know he didn’t do that tbf) short of either moving in to take over parenting or like flat out getting whatever passes for child services involved to force tai to get help or foster the girls himself for a while qrow didn’t really have a lot of material power in this situation. & both options he did have posed real risks (misfortune + the compounding trauma of a messy custody fight while everyone was still grieving summer). so

but yeah what gets me is "they really did try their best" and "their best was in fact inadequate and caused lasting harm" are not incompatible statements. Sometimes Your Best Sucks. that’s life. & sometimes when you’re deep in the throes of a traumatic situation or a depressive episode or alcoholism or what the fuck ever You Will Hurt People because you Don’t have the capacity to support others or practice empathy; you can’t draw from an empty well. that’s life!

it’s just also where the "intentions don’t negate consequences" principle applies; qrow trying to Be There for his nieces whilst struggling with alcoholism doesn’t make the harm done by his alcoholic behavior not have happened, tai’s depression doesn’t make neglect not neglectful, salem… existing at all doesn’t justify the choice to rely almost solely on child soldiers to defend his relics. etc

this is also the most compelling thing to me abt tai (potentially) staying near vale because of summer, at the expense of his kids; as soon as you bring "summer is alive and well and chose to leave him" into this equation you bring the implicit blame to the surface: is this woman responsible for his actions because she chose to end their relationship?

consider that the one thing we know with 100% certainty about these two is that summer did not trust him with her real self; her reaction to hearing him down the stairs is.

this, followed by slipping on a mask and lying through her teeth with practiced ease. (in comparison, when ruby is feeling acutely distressed she shuts down and gets quiet, which has the effect of making her distress visible but also small and easy to ignore or easily shunted aside by louder more apparently urgent problems. ruby tries to put on a happy face most of the time, but when she’s Feeling Bad the best she can do is small, strained smiles. summer turns around with a relaxed grin and makes a casual joke at ozpin’s expense.)

so—yang remembers "supermom" and ruby thinks her dad "misses adventuring with [summer]" and for eight volumes there isn’t anything to contradict this impression the girls have that their parents were deeply in love and happy with each other… and then our introduction to the Real Summer Rose is:

reading bedtime stories to her girls

the lies come out of her so easily!

she planned her rogue mission in secret with raven, who also left tai for hitherto unknown reasons that are now strongly implied to be that she felt like a failure as a wife and mother.

leaving aside the question of why summer chose to join salem (and why she faked her own death to do it)… this does not imply a happy or functional relationship. if nothing else whatever problem summer had that drove her to plan this suicide mission with raven was something that she, for whatever reason, did not feel like she could bring to her spouse/partner—and that in itself speaks to a fundamental absence of trust, but taken in conjunction with a) this Extremely well-practiced emotional disappearing act and b) how tai handles emotional vulnerability in v4 (NOT WELL!) it’s kinda…

well. the blacksmith shows this to ruby then remarks "maybe you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of others’ expectations. like alyx, like your mother," and the only character summer performs for in this flashback is. tai.

and—while the silver eyed warrior paragon-hero fairytale cult nonsense was undoubtedly the greater burden—i think the narrative is inviting the question here of to what extent perfect mother/perfect wife was one of those expectations, to what extent Raven Leaving was a shadow cast over summer’s relationship with taiyang, and how she might feel about all this with fourteen years of hindsight.

wrapping back around to the point about tai and culpability, you have on the one hand this implicit blame put on summer for tai having neglected the children after she left him and on the other this nascent question rising to the surface of: was summer even happy in this relationship, if she felt like she had to perform happiness often enough for it to be this easy? there’s the asterisk of course that what we see in this flashback was outside of the ordinary but the ease and confidence with which she slips on that mask bespeaks habit.

so tai fourteen years later is still pining for this partnership in which summer may or may not have felt an expectation to Be Happy (perfect huntress, perfect mother, perfect wife) and in which she certainly did not feel like she could bring her Desperate Suicide Mission Problems to her partner… and his parental neglect is all rooted directly in the intensity of his anguish after she left him… and she’s spent those fourteen years with salem and if they’ve not already crossed paths offscreen they’re certain to do so now that tai is like alone on patch with salem / summer / cinder for neighbors.

there’s an interesting reckoning being set up here, i think, with the unspoken implication that summer was the load-bearing pillar in this family and by removing herself from it she Made tai into a neglectful father—that’s the family narrative, dad shut down after mom left (died), but the narrative arc is beginning to culminate with "okay, why did mom leave?" and it seems to me that the natural trajectory from there is to really interrogate that question of blame.

[7-wonders]

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 2 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: As the weeks begin to stretch on with no solution as to why you can't remember Morpheus and the Dreaming when you wake up, you begin to lose hope. Can yours be the rare tragedy with a happy ending?

Or, part two of "yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up."

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.

Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!

Part One of Two

“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.

Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.

And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.

You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.

Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.

Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.

“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.

“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically. 

When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.

Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.

When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.

While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.

Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?

Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.

“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take. 

Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.

“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.

“Something is wrong.”

Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.

“What makes you say that?” you stammer.

“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”

Dammit.

Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”

Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”

“I said, I went on a date.”

He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.

“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”

Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.

When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.” 

You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.

Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.

The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.

“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”

“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.

He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.

“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask. 

You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.

“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”

It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.

“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.

“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”

“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”

“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”

“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable. 

•••

Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.

What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.

He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”

“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.

“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”

It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.” 

Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.

“Matthew said you were looking for me?”

“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.

He nods. “Of course.”

“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”

Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.

“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.

“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”

“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.

Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”

“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”

She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”

His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…

He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.

It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”

“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.

“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”

Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”

Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?

As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”

This meeting was meant to happen, then.

“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.

“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.

The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.

“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.

Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision. 

When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.

“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.

“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”

“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”

Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.

(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)

From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.

“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”

Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”

Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”

He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”

“I have said what is to be said.”

To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”

“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”

For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”

“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”

Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.

His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it. 

For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.

Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.

“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.

“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”

“What kind of good news?”

Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”

You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”

“Time.”

“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”

“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.

“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”

“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”

You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”

The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.

The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.

“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”

“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”

“Something else besides magic water?”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.

A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.

“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.

“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”

You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”

“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.

“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.

•••

When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.

Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.

Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office. 

Morpheus, the love of your life. 

Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.

“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”

The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.

“You called?”

•••

Tag list: @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @craftygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69 @shadow-pancake9 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @pinksirensong @musemaniac42 @rosaren2498 @deniixlovezelda @beyondmystery @sloanexx @1950schick @padsfirewhisky @wendds @mageneire @lexi-anastasia @rockergirl57 @commanderfreethatdust @inannamoon @my-fic-corner @sayumiht

[638287492818472]

Guys do you ever just think about humanity

Because

I was re-organising my bookshelf today because that’s my favourite form of procrastination and I found all the stacks of cards I’ve kept from birthdays and Christmases for the past two or three years, the ‘Well Done!‘ and ‘We’re So Proud!‘ cards from starting college a few weeks ago

And I still have as well the ‘Get Well Soon‘ cards from the heart operation I had last year, from extended family mostly, and that made me wish I’d kept the one I’d got from my last operation in primary school, year 4, with the bandaged teddy bear on the front, signed from my whole class

But the card that made me the most sentimental was the one with the bright yellow ballons with smiley faces on the front because I’d got it from a complete stranger who I never even spoke to

The operation had been horrible and the recovery had been horrible and I’m sure I was an absolute nightmare to everyone else on the ward, both the nurses and the poor little kids, because I was still at the children’s hospital then

But embarrassingly I’d cried and cried the whole night, loudly, until the nurses came after what felt to me like a very long time and told me I was having a panic attack, which I thought was strange because I didn’t feel like I was having a panic attack, just that I was in agony and no one was there because I’d refused my mother’s offer to stay with the insistance that I was old enough now to be by myself

I remember the little boy in the bed opposite racing his toy cars down the opposite, and I remember his dad stepping out for a moment to talk to the nurses, about me, maybe, because they came not long after that

And the next morning when my parents brought me breakfast my mother also handed me a card, from the family opposite, saying

‘To the family opposite,

Cant imagine the distress your young girl is going through but as a parent I do know whatever age it’s a worrying time, I was trying not to notice the discomfort she is in and I apologise if this was the wrong thing to do. But I chose this card to hopefully bring a smile to all of your faces. I hope you can soon be home together again and look forward to a bright future.’

And I honestly cried when I read it and still cry now every time I read it because God the humanity? The compassion and sympathy and uncertainty, and wanting to help and not knowing how, just the kindness from and towards complete strangers

I’d almost forgotten about this card until I found it today but it still makes me emotional because I really think it exemplifies the best part of humanity and it meant so much to me then and means so much to me now

I don’t know where I’m going with this other than that i was just overflowing with emotion today because god people are good and kind and even if you don’t know if you’re helping or whether people want your kindness they do and they’ll think about it and cry about it for the rest of their life I promise

[geekgirles]

Disclaimer: I am well aware of the content of the Bible Leaks. However, I will not be addressing them. If you are reading this and have read the leaks as well, please, refrain from pointing out any spoilers from them out of respect to fellow fans that chose not to spoil themselves.

With that out of the way...

Um...could we please take a moment to talk about what just happened, whatever the fuck that is, please?

If you've known me enough, then you must surely know I despise Lila Rossi. As a character, as a villain, if she were a real person I might literally bite her head off... I wholeheartedly believe she is the source of about 75% of the salt in this fandom, given most salt takes on other characters are a direct result of their actions whenever she's around.

Just her mere presence in an episode is enough to sour somewhat my viewing experience.

And even I think her character deserved better than the bullshit they're trying to pull.

Can we please agree that the whole Three Mothers and Three Identities thing is some major ass-pull????

Where the fuck does that even come from?!?!

It makes no sense, it comes completely out of the blue, and it all just comes off as some poorly woven plot to make a literal 14-year-old look worse than a grown ass abusive father terrorising a city and its inhabitants.

And you might say, "Well, Geeks. It doesn't come exactly out of the blue... There was the whole Other Mum from Risk and Different Room in Perfection thing. That's gotta count as foreshadowing."

And though I admire your efforts, I'm afraid I must insist that if that is supposed to be foreshadowing, then it's bad foreshadowing.

This doesn't feel like foreshadowing, but like some hastily added details they had to include like, "Oh, damn! That's right; we're supposed to be trying to go somewhere with this girl! I know, let's just give her a different mum and room in different episodes. That'll do it."

By the way, this also contradicts some key aspects which ultimately undermines the whole thing. Such as the fact that Lila Rossi is part of the Agreste Brand, so it makes absolutely no sense as to why someone who is clearly not Mrs. Rossi would take her to the train station. Because as evidenced by the Illusion father-teacher conference, Mrs. Rossi is indeed the woman that appeared in Heroes’ Day.

(Also, Lila was introduced as Gabriel's muse in Ladybug by Alec, though now I'm not sure if she's ever been addressed as Lila Rossi on public appearances such as Risk, but it still feels contradictory) (I don't know, maybe I'm being too nitpicky with this, but it' just feels so contradicting. I swear, I have a point and I will elaborate on it in the future)

But in the end, the reason why this fails to be proper foreshadowing is that Lila is too much of an absent character for it to properly work. Seeing as, out of 4 seasons before the current point in time, she's only really been in the spotlight/relevant in, what, 6 episodes????

It doesn't feel like a twist we should have seen coming, but as a rushed, groundless subplot that has nothing to do with her previous appearances nor does it tie itself with any of her previously shown traits other than her being a liar.

Which instead of expanding on her character, ultimately reduces it to one-dimensional levels.

I discussed this in a different post forever ago, but in my honest opinion, proper foreshadowing or, at least, character placement, would have been if Lila had shown signs of knowing Alya is Rena Rouge. Why? You may ask. 

Simple.

Because Lila has been shown in two different episodes, in different seasons, to have been paying attention closely and jealously to the things going on around her home. Namely, Ms Bustier’s class doing things together at the park which is right below her window while she was stuck at home because, for some reason, she refused to go back to school. 

As we all know, Alya first transformed into Rena Rouge in the park. It would have been the perfect explanation as to why Lila never once tried taking glory for Rena’s actions under the guise of being Ladybug’s best friend—because of course she would entrust her best friend with a miraculous! Just like it would have been the perfect chance for her to try to get closer to Adrien once more by claiming something along the lines of, “Though Ladybug overreacted, she has a tendency of doing that because we can’t forget the backhanded comments, we agreed to change my superhero identity into one that would be safer from Hawk Moth!”

Instead, by having Lila somehow pull off the triple identity con without a single warning in six years, what they are doing is robbing her of a believable reason for the way she acts!

Let’s take Chloé, for instance. 

Chloé’s actions are not excusable. Regardless of how terrible Audrey is, or how badly she neglected her before hopping on to the Enabling Train alongside André, that is never reason enough to be a bully and a total brat to absolutely everyone around you. 

However, Chloé’s reason for the way she acts makes perfect sense within context. She is not just your typical rich spoiled brat. She is a rich spoiled brat whose father is in a position of power and whom she has completely under her thumb, which results in André’s power over Paris becoming Chloé’s. And thus, whenever someone confronts her on her terrible behaviour, as long as they are not in equal footing with her (like Adrien or Kagami), she can just have her dad take care of the situation and potentially have that person or their parents/relatives’ lives ruined. 

Essentially, Chloé’s character amounts to a spoiled brat in a position of power who’s constantly throwing temper tantrums. And yet, this aspect of her personality has gradually been explored over the seasons. 

What’s scary about this is that this is a real-life issue. There are people all over the world getting away with their actions (regardless of how severe they are) because their families have money, power, connections...

Lila, par contrast, gets her character simplified each passing episode she’s featured in. 

We’ve gone from all the possibilities we were offered back in Volpina—Lila indeed just being a new girl trying to make friends but being afraid of rejection, her hating Ladybug while liking Marinette, a possible redemption, her becoming a legitimate villain in her own right rather than the narrative bending over backwards to try convince us she is not a threat even though she is barely featured at all...— to a character whose entire schtick is “Oh, look at me! I’m evil and a liar!”

As I said earlier, one-dimensional levels of character depth. 

The funny thing, though, is that Lila actually had a believable reason for the way she acted, and they are choosing to completely negate that and refuse to give their character any depth in favour of making her as malevolent as possible!

As I said with Chloé, please remember that reason does not mean excuse.

With that out of the way, let's remember how early seasons and especially Oni-Chan went out of their way to establish, or at the very least, hint at Lila being someone who most likely started lying to make herself feel special and make up for the lack of attention she was receiving at home. 

Unfortunately, as time went by, her desire to be the centre of attention and liked, never mind if she never actually put the effort to deserve any of that, far outweighed any original good will and desire for friendship and genuine connections. While the implications that her mother giving her everything she wanted in hopes of making up for her absence further soured her personality until she became the lying, petty, attention-seeking spoiled brat we know today. 

This, coupled with her desperation to be seemed and, more important, feel more special than she actually is gave us a legitimate reason as to why some petty liar would go as far as to ally herself with a terrorist.

Is it troubling behaviour? Undoubtedly. But Lila's never been shown to be a very stable individual. If the early running gag of her throwing things around when angered is any indication.

...

Um...

...esto...

...what exactly is she missing if she’s suddenly been conning three different, completely unrelated women into thinking she’s their daughter? A good psychiatrist?!?!

(I apologise for talking about a minor’s state of sanity, but you’ll have to agree with me that the writers are the first ones portraying kids as literal monsters here). 

And you might say, “You might be overthinking this, Geeks. After all, it’s a superhero show; you can’t expect it to be realistic.”

And once again you would raise a very valid point. Hell, God knows I wouldn’t watch half the things I do if they were realistic. However, it is imperative that we make a distinction: 

Fiction doesn’t have to be realistic, but it must be convincing.

And there is nothing convincing about a 14-year-old having three different identities because of how good a liar and manipulator she supposedly is. 

Marinette pulls off impressive, crazy feats every single day? That is convincing because we see repeatedly how Marinette has both a complexity addiction due to a need to control things to calm her anxiety, and the fact that what ultimately saves the day is her natural quick-thinking and creativity, not to mention the fact that she has superpowers.

Chloé gets to expel people just by threatening to call her dad, the Mayor? Again, it is convincing, and probably even realistic, because she is in a position of power and, unlike Lila, her actions are appropriate in the sense that they are outlandishly cartoonish.

Lila...she doesn’t have that. 

Maybe it's just me, but I just can't seem to buy the excuse that any responsible mother would be okay with their underaged daughter "going to Africa to deal with poachers" all by herself, especially in the middle of the school year. Just like I have the feeling many parents would at least be apprehensive at the idea of their teenage daughter becoming such a public figure as both a model and the face of the Alliance rings.

But hey, maybe those are just signs of me having the potential to become an overprotective mother in the future. Instead of, you know, one of the most atrocious cases of the Adults Are Useless trope I've ever seen.

Nevertheless, as of right now Lila doesn’t even have much depth. And I’m not saying she needs some sob story that will make us feel sorry for her, no. You don’t need to make a villain sympathetic for them to be a good villain. After all, Frollo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame has no sympathetic traits nor does he have a sad backstory whatsoever and he is still one of the best Disney villlains ever. 

So what am I supposed to do with Lila? What, do I have to wait until season 6 comes around and retrospectively reveals she’s not a teenage girl at all but some sort of ancient witch who lures people in with her syren song and feeds off of their adoration for her?

At this point it just feels like the writers are so desperate for adding shock value, that they forget to add anything of value.

[cowboybarzy]

hi! let’s do it, right this time!! could i request a trip to paris with cale makar where he’s going to propose but you don’t know it yet for your travel around the world summer requests!! thank you!

yes this is absolutely cute!! tysm; also can you tell I watched friends before writing this lol

come along the world trip

📍paris, france with cale makar

"That was a great diner," you said as you stepped out of the small Parisian restaurant holding your boyfriends hand. He agreed, having ordered another appetizer during his actual meal because he couldn't get enough, you weren't surprised. The restaurant he chose served divine food and the atmosphere was very romantic. "I'm still in the mood for Crêpes, though. You?"

"Sure, I could eat one." He would never not want any more food. You looked up a place to go and remembered a place from your research before the trip that came highly recommended.

"No, not that one. It's not near the Eiffel Tower," Cale disagreed.

"So?"

"I want to see it light up."

"We can do that tomorrow. Or afterwards."

"No, I want to do it now. Come on, they're just as good over there," he continued to argue, but it didn't make much sense to you. "Come on."

With a sigh, you gave in and followed him in the opposite direction. You were really confused by his behavior, he never insisted like that without giving a legitimate reason and usually he gave into whatever you wanted. But now that you thought about it, he had been acting weird this entire trip, especially today. He was extremely jumpy and lost in his thoughts.

The streets of Paris were extremely busy and loud, but you loved that. While not every street was beautiful and you were definitely aware of your surroundings, you loved the of building and all of the different kinds of people living their best lives here. But with the sun long gone and the wind that had picked up a bit, you were getting a bit chilly on your walk so you asked for his blazer.

"Of course." He stopped to take it off, but then suddenly paused and then put it back on. "Actually, uh, no. Sorry."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Well, uh," he looked for his words, coughing a couple times. "Then I'd be cold."

"Oh-kay." You kept walking, a bit disturbed by the experience. He always offered his jacket and would rather freeze to death than let you be a bit chilly. "You're being weird."

He chuckled and draped his arm over your shoulder, his hand still in yours. "Yeah, well, that's me." He kissed the side of your head, then changed the subject to distract you from that awkward interaction.

"Une crêpes au Nutella, s'il vous plaît," you ordered a while later at a little food truck near the Eiffel Tower. "Et une au Nutella et bananes."

You paid the man and watched him make the two crêpes. Cale grinned, "that was hot."

"Merci."

Once your crêpes were ready, you found a spot on a bridge with a perfect view of the tower to eat them. You saw it sparkle a few times and shamelessly leaned into the tourists in you and took some sweet pictures. In the last while, you could tell he had relaxed a bit, but now he got fidgety again.

"Love," he looked around nervously, while grabbing your hand. He cleared his throat one too many times before you gave him a concerned look, but the mood changed suddenly when his hand reached into jacket pocket and pulled out a small black box. Out of the corner of your eye the Eiffel Tower started sparkling again and a lightbulb went off in your head. He was about to propose.

Time slowed down as Cale lowered to one knee. Your breath got caught in your throat. Your pulse started racing. And your eyes flooded with tears. "Cale-" It was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat one more time, then smiled looking up at you.

"(Y/n), I have loved you for a long time now. Probably longer than I should admit, because the first thing I thought when I first saw you was 'I want to marry her one day'. Well, now I'm hoping to make that a reality. You are my favorite person in this world and you're making me a happier and better man every day. Even with my crazy schedule, when we're miles apart or right here next to each other, I always feel close to you. You're the only person I want to come home to, wake up to, and kiss goodnight. I love you more than words could ever describe. And with this ring," Cale opened the little box, revealing a beautiful ring. "I will promise to love you forever and ask you to spend the rest of your lives together. (Y/n), will you marry me?"

"Cale—", a small sob left you. Your entire body was screaming the word 'yes', even before he asked the question, but all you could do was whisper it over and over again. "Yes. Yes. Yes."

He managed to slide the ring on your finger before you threw yourself at him, slinging your arms around his neck. "Yeah?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yes. Always."

His dimples appeared, deeper than ever, and even in the dark you could see his blue eyes sparkle with joy. He finally kissed you, his soft lips exploring yours with newfound passion.

"That's why you were acting so weird," you realized when you pulled away after a moment.

"Guilty. I just wanted to do it in front of the lit up tower and couldn't wait another day." You kissed his grin, too sweet not to. "Oh, if you're still cold you can have my jacket now."

You threw your head back with a small laugh. "I'm good. I'm all warm and fuzzy now. I love you."

"Love you more, honey."