#It's time to share with those who need it most

[thursdayisbetterthanfriday]

Some of the most intelligent people I know are continually asking questions which, in many circumstances, would get them labelled as idiots by some. The point is, they're not afraid to admit their ignorance AND they're also not afraid to use that as a springboard to find out more. It's an excellent attitude which allows them, and those they work and interact with, to be more accepting of their own limitations and can allow those with knowledge to share and help them to better things.

You'll sometimes see the above Awareness/Knowledge matrix cited when people talking about knowledge. I like to use it as a demonstrational tool for people.

If you don't ask questions, then your known unknowns remain unknown. It doesn't end there however, as the Unknown unknowns you would likely have uncovered by asking the question remain unknown. In other words, your ignorance compounds like bank interest. But take the opposite. Asking questions can not only help you turn Known unknowns into Known knowns, it can also uncover new Unknown unknowns which you hadn't considered, and might be crucial to what you're interested in, or doing.

In fact, if you assume each question uncovers a uniform number of Unknown unknowns each time, and you seek answers to all questions (a highly unrealistic example, but go with it for now) you can see even only 2 unknown pieces of information per question can quickly balloon to if you try to get answers to them all. If it's 4 then, well, just note that the y axis here is logarithmic. This is a feeling familiar to anyone who has done a Wikipedia binge or has encountered a human child. This is likely overwhelming, but note that this is more of an illustration of how much information can compound over time.

Asking questions also allows others, who know Unknown knows relative to you, to do the same. It's really a win-win situation if done right, creating a kind of compound interest of knowledge that builds over time. But unlike bank interest, the rate isn't fixed. One question can uncover multiple Unknown unknowns which become Known unknowns, leading to quadratic, or higher, rates of knowledge depending on how much time you have to find answers.

Not only that, by helping others do the same you can get increasing compounding knowledge as you both turbocharge each other's knowledge.

Luckily information usually isn't just individual, non-linked, snippets. It often, contextually, ties into itself, giving a network effect which can allow you to assimilate new information and fit it into frameworks of understanding that you already possess. If you're new to a subject, such as a small child or a first-timer amateur, you'll need to acquire knowledge to make your own internal information base but, again, this will compound its usefulness over time. As you gain more knowledge, it allows you to create your own internal knowledge structures which make it SO much easier to understand the world, and means you get to better know which questions to ask.

Anyway - It can be difficult to ask questions at first, and create new habits, but it's often worth the effort. By inspiring others to do the same you can significantly increase your collective knowledge base. Or if you want, which is also a completely legitimate choice, you can choose not to know. Knowledge gathering is a time consuming task after all. Just don't judge people for wanting more.

Just remember: There's no such thing as a stupid question, if it leads to you gaining understanding more about the world.

There's a whole demographic of people who are profoundly incurious and just assume everyone else is too, so when they see something unfamiliar they immediately rush to declare that not only have they never heard of it, none of you did either. You're just pretending. You had to look it up, don't lie. You didn't know this

And like, so what if someone had to look something up. That's how you learn new things. People usually say this about knowledge that's pretty damn basic, but I can't get over how they're not only scornful at the idea of people trying to learn something new, they casually assume everyone else is, too

[unluckilyimnot]

Habits bllk boy

Characters: sae, rin, chigiri, reo, nagi, otoya, isagi, kaiser

Fluff / no tw / 900+

Note: I'd like to know what you like me doing the most, hc, os (long or short), one character or even multi fandom? I'm curious!

m.list | rules

Sae - doing his skin care with you

If you don't have a skin care routine, then now you do. He's really serious about this, and you probably get tired of getting side eyes all the time. It's nothing much yet it makes him feel good, sharing simple moments like those is precious to him with his busy life. That's how he prefers his night to start, whenever with music – yours or his – or without ; he's just next to you, watching you putting product after product on your skin and there's almost the shadow of a smile on his lips. Bonus points to the night where you two sit in front of a series or a movie with sheet masks on and snacks next to you.

Rin - listening to your music with you

He could easily put his headphones on while you put your music on while getting ready or doing your makeup – if you do wear some – but he actually likes knowing what you're listening to. It's kind of intimate to him, he likes to share his music with you as much as he likes knowing what you like. He even has a playlist composed only with music from yours and he wishes you never found out (you already did). Along with that, he's obviously the type to make you a playlist when he feels like it or when he misses you.

Isagi - checks on you

He's a little anxious about everything, nothing crazy but I feel like he's the tense one before traveling you see ? Well because of that, Isagi will always make sure you're at ease, feeling good, stay hydrated, and put sunscreen on. You almost fell ? He grabbed your arm and then never let your hand go. He's always asking you if you're good, probably over a hundred times a day. He just wants you to be safe. He's extra caring and comprehensive when you're tired or overstimulated and you end up annoying or cold. He doesn't mind much, he just wants to make it easier for you.

Otoya - have a hair tie just in case you need it

The second your hair is long enough to be tied, he has one around his wrist. He knows you have one too, but he also knows that you share yours a lot and don't always get it back so he's there for that. The second he notices that your hair is bothering you, he doesn't hesitate to put it behind your ear or tie it for you. He loves the texture of your hair between/against his fingers, and the scent when it just got washed. He generally really loves your hair, so he's always here to hand you a hair tie.

Kaiser - leans his hand next to yours

He's not gonna take your hand just like that, no matter how people think he will, I'm sure he won't because he prefers when you're the one who catches his hand. It makes him feel wanted, needed and Gods know it wasn't always the case with closed ones. Letting it lands oh so close to yours, just so your picky are touching in a feather like manners, yet he doesn't move any more closer to your hand, patiently waiting for you to break and hold his hand, winning a so prideful smirk as he look at you with a look you know too well.

Nagi - lean on you when he's tired

You can be laying in bed, up pouring yourself a drink ans looking for snacks – anywhere in the house, Nagi will find you and lean onto your shoulders as if he was the small one in the relationship. You might think he's cute, he is, but he always make sur to put half his weight on you, crashing you behind him so you HAVE to go to bed so you don't die because of it. He does it outside as well but it's less harming. He simply leans in his head on your shoulder, wraps his arms around your waist if you're up and whines because he's tired and wants to go home. People find it endearing a lot – let alone when you shuffle his perfect white hair with a soft smile, telling him you'll be leaving soon.

Reo - get you something to drink

You're busy, he knows that better than anyone else, and if you're not he'd rather have you resting so it's his duty to take care of you. It doesn't matter if he has to order it in a coffee shop or to make one himself for you while you're at his place or his staying at yours, he'll make you something hot to drink before you can even think about how you need it. He'll get a tea pot ready for you, already sweetened if that's how you take it – same for coffee. He'll be kind but demanding toward anyone making your drink, making sure it's done well but will always leave a huge tip because that's what you'll do.

Chigiri - wash your hair for you

Chigiri likes his privacy but less when it comes to you, so it doesn't happen all the time but you two regularly take shower/bath together. That's when he started to wash your hair for you. That way he can take care of it and treat it nicely because he knows you don't always have the energy to do so. You'll always have a nice scalp massage that makes you mmh in satisfaction and he's always gonna laugh at it a little. But he loves it a lot because he gets to see you relax under his fingers after a long day and that's enough for him.

Let me know if you liked it !

[jeongin-lvr]

ׅ⠀⠀ ֺ⠀⠀ ࣭⠀⠀⠀⟡ sloppy, c. yeonjun

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍，𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖻 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌！𝗃𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝖽𝗈𝗆！𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗌，𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂－𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑，𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾！𝗃𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝗌𝗂𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄，𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒．UNEDITED.

[ 𝟣．𝟦𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ★ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ★ [ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]

THE WAY YOUR BOSS treats you is so inappropriate. Your coworkers always tell you, anyway. But you don’t see the harm in what he does at all! Whenever he leaves lingering touches on your arm it’s innocent, and those stare-downs he throws your way are just that! There’s definitely not a hint of anything more behind those moments the both of you share. Mr. Choi is a very nice man who treats you very nicely, especially for a boss. Who are you to complain?

In hallways when you pass by each other he sends you warm smiles and maybe if he’s feeling extra kind, a wink. But when you’re called to his office to offer some help with paperwork or to have a quick chat, your coworkers start to think it’s not as simple as that. Especially after the umpteenth time today! It’s ridiculous at this point how many times you’d been phoned into his office, behind secluded walls, tinted glass door. Leaving everything to the imagination of your colleagues. Can you blame them for being curious? You didn’t care much for their speculations; that being said, you didn’t pay much attention to them anyway.

You didn’t intend on explaining yourself to them nor did you intend on telling them the truth behind those subtle glances and fleeting touches. In the public eye, it just seemed a bit weird, however, being closed doors it was soooo much more complex.

But… they are right about one thing! There’s definitely more to all of it. Getting called to the big, bad bosses office at random hours throughout the day, leaving work at the same time in the same damn car as Mr. Choi, the oddly close relationship. There really wasn’t much effort put into hiding it; stupidly, you denied all the very true rumors and speculation. What else were you to do?

They didn’t need to know any details of all the times you’d spent laid out on your filthy bosses desk, clad in nothing but your glasses and torn panties. Or those times you’d sit prettily under his desk on your calves, stuffing your mouth with his thick length, just trying to help him de stress because he’s such a good boss! He works to hard, you always tell him that. Mr. Choi is sweet with you too, calling you princess, darling, doll… all the sweet pet names under the sun because he can. He dotes on you, and treats you so well. That’s not to say he isn’t filthy with you when it comes to sex— he’ll take you like a drug; cussing and degrading you all while calling you the most beautiful woman in the same sentence. It’s a perfect balance of both, always making your toes curl. Whatever he says goes and your reward is all the benefits of being his star employee. Rides to and from work, extra pay, good dick— what’s not to love?

You’re not even sure how long this has been going on; who’s keeping track anymore? But you’d have to guess not too long after you landed the job… it happened a little too naturally.

One call into his office, a sly glance as he looked you over. Like he had been studying you. Slithering and curling over your body with a daunting gaze of power and intensity. It was hard not to buckle and fold. Mr. Choi just had this natural energy of dominance, so it’s no surprise the way he acts in bed (mostly on top of his work desk). He’s yucky in the best way.

“Sir, s—“ You’re cut off by a sudden thrust upward, your head jolting backward and hitting his firm shoulder with a soft thud. You moan, working yourself out of the fog that slowly diluted your mind.

Mr. Choi leaned back behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he let out a raspy chuckle, amused by the soft sounds of glee that fell past your lips. “What, doll?” His hands slipped up your waist, ignoring the stinging hand prints on your thighs and hips, groping your freed tits with his big, cold hands. The shocking steel of his rings hitting your perked nipples and forcing a gasp out of your throat. The cold jewelry felt stunning, momentarily leaving you frozen.

You recalled all of your coworkers asking you where you disappear to… all their quizzical stares and perplexed questions. You knew they knew. It bugged you that they knew. It didn’t before but for some reason their stares changed. More shameless with their knowledge. Like they were judging you for being so, well, obvious.

New red hickeys decorating your neck every time you left Mr. Choi’s office. Your excuses piled up like tickets. You’re sure there’s not a single excuse you haven’t used yet.

“Speak, darling, tell me what’s on your mind,” Mr, Choi grasped your tit hard, tugging at your nipple as he thrusted upward yet again, resulting in your entire body jolting in shock at the pleasure. Your glasses crooked and fogging now, your cliche red lipstick smeared and decorated over his lips and jaw. It was like a cliche porno. You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the thick inches filling and emptying you over and over. One of your bosses wandering hands slipped off of your tit and gripped your chin, squishing your lips into a stupid pout as he uncomfortably tilted your head backward, giving you a lovely glimpse at his sweaty, stoic face. His eyebrows scrunched and his full lips pulled into a parted O. He looked at you expectantly, still awaiting your response.

“Sir, m’ worried,” You paused, chasing your breath desperately, “S-someone will hear—“

He scoffed in your face, making you feel small and pathetic. Your eyes fluttering as he continued to pump himself up into you. The sounds of your leaky, full pussy sucking his deliciously thick dick was nasty and made your mind spin endlessly. Your eyes almost crossing as you fought for your consciousness.

“Who fuckin’ cares, doll?” Mr. Choi gripped your face harder, “Let them hear.”

“B-but—“

Your boss groaned, sloppily leaning in for your lips, kissing you as if he just wanted you to shut up (he did). You reciprocated instantly, melting into him in every single way. Your knees ached from how you sat propped over him, your eyes burned with a wave of intensely pleasured tears, every inch of your body was sore.

“M’ your boss, baby, you don’t gotta worry about nothing…” He spoke into your mouth, his movements jerky now, everything so sloppy and dirty. You felt arousal pool down your legs, probably staining his seat a deeper shade. The way he spoke was so reassuring, or maybe you’re just too fucked out to argue. Your body spoke for you, pussy clenching hard around him, moving back down on his pretty dick.

Mr. Choi chuckled as he pulled out of your kiss. Despite how messy the moment was, he somehow looked relatively put together in his neatly pressed suit, his somehow still sexy even though you’d run your fingers through the hair and ruined the product more times than you could count. Your eyes were unfocused but you could very clearly still make out the decoration of bright red lipstick all over your flushed skin. His white button down just a tad disheveled and his tie loosened.

You whisper now, “You’re the boss…”

“Yeah, and you’re m’ fucking you,” Yeonjun laughed almost in disbelief, “So that means you d-don’t have to worry your pretty lil head.”

You nodded dumbly, engulfed in the pleasure now, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, that’s right, beautiful,” He wrapped his hands around your waist, upping his pace while panting into your ear, “Let em all hear how good I fuck my pretty girl…” He growled now, his hands tight as he pulled you up and down his dick, ignoring your whimpers of how overstimulating it was. Mr. Choi watched your ass bounce on his thick length, the slight divot and arch in your back capturing his attention. You naked and laid out for him so nicely while he sat dressed apart from his cock had to be the best part. It was you at his mercy. Completely and totally for his pleasure.

Your moans became higher, quicker, deep from within your tummy as he filled you. You felt that hot and heavy ball of your orgasm fill your lower stomach, swelling and swelling as his leaky tip hit your g-spot over and over again. One hit after the other leaving your eyes fluttering as you allowed yourself to get overwhelmed. Your red hot nails digging into his wrist, panting his name and endless pleas.

“Yeah? Do I fuck ya real good, darling? Mm, tell me how good it feels. Be as loud as you want, ah, let everyone hear ya.”

Your bosses potty mouth only send vibrations to your core, every movement he made was overwhelming your senses in a way you couldn’t explain. You couldn’t even begin to speak without being interrupted by your own moans. Mr. Choi grabbed your waist, swiftly standing in one fluid, hurried motion. He quickly laid you backward onto his desk, not minding anything in the way, letting pens and paper fall to the floor in a mess.

The new angle was providing you with sensations you’d never felt before. Your eyes were crossing, vision blurry. His movements only increased, quicker, needier. Everything he gave you was perfection, hitting and grinding and rubbing against every part of you so nicely. You whisper his name, begging for something, anything. Silent ‘sirs’ falling past your lips, only making his lips curl.

“Yes, sir, fuck me s-so good!” Any thoughts you had about anyone hearing was forgotten now. Pleasure controlled you; mouth running in babbling moans as your nails began to dig into the fabric of his shirt.

Mr. Choi curled his fingers around your jaw, tilting your head upward to get access to your sensitive neck, covering your skin in spit and sloppy kisses.

Your glasses, foggy and lopsided, began to fall backward until they lay crooked on your forehead, only making your boss smile. He was amused by your disheveled state, clearly. Enraptured by how simple it was to get you off.

He kissed your neck, then your collarbone, anywhere your skin gave him access. He mumbled against your skin, “My pretty little slut, can’t get enough of th-this pussy… mm, so good to your boss.” He nibbled on the flesh of your breast, sucking a deep, dark circle into your skin just to listen to how you whimpered.

“S-sir, I’m g’na— fuck!” Your eyes rolled and your mouth widened before you could even manage to get the words out.

“Go ahead,” He coerced with a smirk, his full lips pressing into your skin as he thrusted into you deeper. He watched you unravel with hungry eyes, surely not ready to give up the sight of you falling apart. He didn’t even blink, his eyes burned, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you cum on his cock. He wanted it so badly. “Squeezing me so tight— fuck, baby, good girl…” He managed to rip himself away from your skin, grinning so widely as he peered down at where your bodies met. A gorgeous ring of white around his dick as he pumped into you, your back arching and face scrunched.

Your hand pressed into his chest, tugging at his tie desperately to try and get him to slow down. Only it seemed to do the opposite. He sped up his pace with a grin, maniacally thrusting into you.

“Oh, but m’ not done, sweetheart,” He gripped your wrist as you whined, “My turn now, okay? Let me handle it…”

[mclacedes]

Father Complex (LH44)

summary: in which lewis is your slightly older boyfriend and it reminds you of your father

wc: 2.5k

warnings: fluffy, angsty, daddy issues (freud mention), bad family dynamics mention

a/n1: i'm obsessed with writing lewis recently so here's a little something... also, sorry for the amount of age gap in this blog, i'm also obsessed with that :)

a/n2: also... HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEWIS

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A long time ago, a guy named Freud, often dubbed as the father of psychoanalysis, came up with this idea he called "the father complex." Basically, it says that the need for approval from an absent father sticks around into adulthood, leading into some questionable relationship decisions.

You frequently—although sporadically—thought about that when you looked at him: Lewis.

That was the man with whom you found entangled in the hush of summer nights because he kept finding his way into your bed.

That Ferrari driver who's got 7 (or maybe 8) championships under his belt.

The man whose arms held you tight when you sought solace; whose fingers would melt into your skin when your walls wrapped around his flesh just right.

His eyes had seen the world long before yours—16 years before, to be precise. He’d raced through continents, dealt with pressures you could only imagine, and faced challenges that would make most people crumble whilst you were in your mother’s womb.

And yet, here he was, playing his role perfectly and being the boyfriend you had dreamed of for so long—cooking for you, looking after you, making you feel like the most important person in the world.

In those moments, it was as if the years between you disappeared, as if the world outside didn’t exist. All that mattered was the quiet, stolen time you shared, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, letting everything else fade into white noise.

Tonight, Lewis had cooked your favorite meal, a perfect blend of comfort and decadence, all while he indulged in white wine. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of the beverage he kept sipping on between stirring the sauce.

He absolutely fell in love with what he had ended up with, and smiled to himself. There was something undeniably satisfying about getting everything just the you liked—the way you always smiled at the meal he carefully plated, the way your eyes would light up when you tasted the flavors, as if it was a secret he only confided in you. And in those moments, when he saw that little spark of happiness in your eyes, it felt like all his worries melted away.

He left the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishcloth, intending to call you for dinner, but the scene in the living room stopped him in his tracks.

Beneath the soft, golden light of his Monaco penthouse, you stood with a glass of white wine in hand, your eyes closed, brows furrowed slightly, and your body swaying effortlessly to the rhythm of the music playing in the background.

You were utterly lost in the song, humming softly and singing along to the lyrics with a kind of reckless abandon. It didn’t matter that you weren’t trained to sing or that your voice wavered slightly here and there. What mattered was the unguarded joy in the moment, the kind of pure, unfiltered expression that made Lewis’ chest ache with something he couldn’t quite name. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so deeply immersed in your own little world, a world that radiated warmth and vulnerability.

A slow, almost involuntary smile spread across his face as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, taking in the sight before him. The way your hair cascaded in soft waves down your back, the way your hips moved naturally to the beat, and how your silk nightgown delicately enveloped your frame—it was all so completely and effortlessly you.

Lewis’ gaze softened, his heart swelling as he took in the scene before him. There was a kind of fragile beauty in moments like this, a glimpse of the unguarded you that felt like a privilege to witness. You weren’t performing for anyone, not trying to impress or hide—you were simply existing, lost in the rhythm of the music and the comfort of the space you shared together.

It hit him, as it often did in quiet moments like these, just how lucky he was. Lucky to know you in ways the rest of the world never would, to be the one who got to see you when the walls came down and the noise of the outside world faded away. These little moments, the kind that seemed inconsequential to anyone else, were what he treasured most. They were what made everything worth it.

He walked deliberately, the soft creak of the floorboards under his barefoot steps betraying his soft approach. When he reached you, he stopped for a moment, simply taking in the way the music seemed to pulse through you, the way the room felt warm and intimate. Without a word, he positioned himself behind you, his presence filling the space just enough to make you aware of him without breaking the magic of the moment.

He gently placed his hands on your hip dips, his touch light but sure. The movement of your body slowed, and you turned your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eyes, the faintest trace of surprise in your smile.

“Oh, hi,” you said, the words slipping out with a mix of amusement and affection.

He smiled back at you, that warm, easy smile of his. “Hello, angel,” he replied, his voice soft and teasing, as if he were enjoying the sight of you in this moment just as much as the music. “Care if I join in?” he asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he slid his hands from your hips to your waist, pulling you gently closer.

The music continued to flow around you both, and for a few seconds, you let yourself melt into him, throwing your head back to rest against his chest. The warmth of his body surrounded you as both of you moved in sync, caught up in the quiet connection of the moment. It was just the two of you, the soft flicker of light from the living room lamps dancing on the walls, creating shadows that seemed to mirror the ease between you.

“Dinner’s ready, love,” he muttered, lowering his head closer to yours. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, the words carrying a softness that made you smile involuntarily. “Made your favorite meal.”

And it was moments like these that reached that fragile part of you that had never fully healed from growing up neglected by your own father. Every time Lewis made it clear that he cared—that he truly listened to your words, that he understood who you are and why you are—there was an ache that would rise in your chest, a bittersweet pang of something you didn’t even know you were starving for.

Every time he loved you, you were transported back to your childhood home, where love was a distant, unreachable thing, locked away behind a thousand doors you could never open. It wasn’t that you were unloved—it was that the kind of love you needed, the kind that wrapped around you with warmth and security, was always kept just out of reach. The love that touched you, held you, saw you. The love that would have made you feel safe. It was always missing.

But with him—with Lewis—it felt like you were being given that love in every little thing he did. It wasn’t just the grand gestures, the moments that shouted “I love you.” It was in the quiet, tender things—the way he made sure you were okay and comfortable, the way he noticed the small things, the way he never made you feel like you were too much or too little. He loved you like he knew exactly who you were, even when you still hadn’t figured it all out yourself.

You tried your hardest to keep it together, but under the weight of it all, you unraveled completely, breaking apart against his chest as if letting go of him might make him vanish into the air.

The tears came fast and unrelenting, sinking in his shirt, but he didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you closer, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles as you let go of everything you’d been holding in. It wasn’t just about the love he gave you now; it was about everything you had missed, everything you had buried, everything you were afraid to admit you needed.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice a gentle anchor in your storm. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if to shield you from whatever was breaking inside. “I'm here. I've got you, love. I've got you.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pressed against your cheek, grounding you in the moment, even as your tears soaked into his shirt. You wanted to say something—to explain, to apologize for the way you were falling apart—but the words wouldn’t come.

All you could do was cling to him.

He didn’t rush you. He didn’t ask for an explanation or try to fix what couldn’t be fixed at that moment. Instead, he simply stood there, rocking you gently, one hand tracing slow, soothing circles on your back. His touch was warm and steady, a quiet reassurance that it was okay to feel everything, that it was okay to let him carry some of the weight.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Just let it out, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

And somehow, those words—so simple, so full of certainty—broke you even further, because they were everything you’d longed to hear your whole life—words that promised safety, security, and an unwavering presence. Words that no one else had ever said and truly meant.

another two minutes, your sobs began to taper off into quiet hiccups, your breathing still uneven but slowly steadying. You stayed pressed against him, your head tucked under his chin, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. The silence between you wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was soothing, the kind of silence that made you feel safe, like you didn’t need to fill the space with words.

Lewis shifted slightly, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently along your hairline. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace that had settled over you both.

You nodded against his chest, not trusting your voice just yet. His fingers lingered in your hair for a moment longer before he leaned back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so he could meet your eyes.

“I hope you know you don’t ever need to hide with me, right?”

You pulled away enough to look back at him. There was no judgment in his expression, no pity—just quiet understanding. It was as though he could see every crack in your armor and chose not to comment, but instead, to hold you together without saying a word.

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. You could only nod again, the weight of his gaze anchoring you.

One of his hands moved to your cheek, caressing it as he looked back at you with nothing but love glossing over his eyes.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, his voice soft but steady, like a promise he intended to keep forever. His thumb brushed away the remnants of your tears, and the warmth of his touch settled deep in your chest, easing some of the ache. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re feeling, you can let it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, drawing strength from his presence. The way he stood there, unwavering and patient, made you feel seen in a way you rarely allowed yourself to be.

“I know,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I know.”

And you did. You knew it with every part of you, even the parts that still resisted the notion that someone could love you this completely, this unconditionally.

For a moment, you just stayed like that—his hand on your cheek, your bodies close, the world around you quiet and still. The scent of him—clean and warm, tinged with the faintest hint of the cologne he always wore—was comforting in a way that made you want to stay in his arms forever.

“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “It’s just…sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together.”

Lewis’ lips curved into a gentle smile, and he tilted his forehead to rest lightly against yours. “You don’t have to hold it all together, love. Not with me. You’re allowed to fall apart. I’ll catch you every time.”

The sincerity in his words made your throat tighten all over again, but this time, it wasn’t from pain—it was from the overwhelming sense of safety and love he gave you, love that wrapped around you like a protective cocoon.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to transfer some of his strength to you. “Come on,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to take your hand in his. “Dinner’s going to get cold, and I worked way too hard on that sauce for it to go to waste.”

You laughed, a small, shaky sound, but it was genuine, and you saw the way his face lit up in response. It was as though your laugh, however small, was all he needed to feel like everything was right in the world.

He led you to the dining table, his fingers laced with yours, and pulled out your chair for you before settling into his own. The meal he had prepared was as perfect as you expected it to be, every detail thoughtful and deliberate, just like him.

As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, moving from lighthearted topics to deeper ones, the way it always did with him. By the time you finished, the heaviness in your chest had lessened, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone.

Later, as you lay together in bed, his arm draped protectively around you and your head resting on his chest, you felt something shift inside you—a small but powerful realization.

With Lewis, you didn’t have to be perfect. You didn’t have to have it all figured out. You didn’t have to hide the parts of yourself that felt broken or messy or incomplete. With him, you could simply be.

A long time ago, Freud coined the term "father complex”.

You thought about that when you were laid in Lewis’ chest at night.

Freud suggested that the need for approval from an absent father often lingers into adulthood, shaping questionable relationships

Yet, with Lewis, it didn’t feel like a need or a wound being tended to—it just felt right, as though for once, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And that, you realized, was the kind of love you had been searching for all along.

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

Part 2

__

Warnings: violence, past mentions of domestic situations, fluff

Terry X OC!Marina

__

Terry had been experiencing true bliss the last month he had spent with Marina. She was intelligent beyond words and found ways to teach him something new everyday. Whether it was her place or his, they carved out time from their busy schedules to spend quality time to get to know one another. Friday had rolled around and Marina was currently napping on his plush couch snuggled up with a thick throw blanket.Hands together underneath her chin as she snored lightly. This had been their ritual. She’d end her work week and spend the weekend with Terry.

And they shared similar stories about how they had grown up. Her mother Zen was also a single mother who was in a large city all by herself and they both were an only child. She spoke of the day her mother had finally finished school and became a labor and delivery nurse, she wanted to welcome babies into the world for the rest of her career. Marina spoke of the day they celebrated and how much she looked up to her mother. And Terry loved his mother dearly as well, he had provided her with the luxury of never having to work again, a gift for her sacrifice as a mother. She knew what he did, what he had to do for them to survive and yet his most current life decision she did not agree with.

She’d heard Marina talking in the back of their phone call one day and was currently icing him out for it. Grace had called Terry everything but a child of god, and was hell bent on not letting him make this “mistake” again. He caught on eventually to what or rather who she was referring to… a past toxic relationship that had fizzled out almost three years ago now. Terry was whoring and running through Houston like an angry bull when he met Carmen. They argued, fucked, and fought on a repeat constantly, tearing through his house, her house, vehicles you name it they had an altercation there.But eventually like most relationships like theirs the shit got old fast and he was tired of his face looking like he had gotten into an altercation with a mountain lion.

But Carmen didn’t leave peacefully, no that wasn't her. She disrespected his mother and attempted to slander his name in the media. It was messy and the cleanup to attempt to scrub his name clean of her lies cost him a pretty penny. Last he had heard, she had successfully trapped some poor unfortunate soul…rather them than him.But Marina hadn't exhibited any of the signs that Carmen had early on in their relationship. She was about her money, had dreams and aspirations, and above all else she was genuinely happy about life. The only words that soothe this mother were future promises of actually getting to meet Marina, that would have to do for now.

__

Terry tossed his head back and squeezed a few drops of eye drops into his eyes. Sleep had evaded him again the night before and his eyes felt tired and dry. His body felt stiff and sore from jumping out of a moving car the day before. Some shit that had to be done. Another day of asserting dominance and knocking heads off, the usual. His hands gripped the bathroom vanity as he closed his eyes to allow the solution to soothe his eyes. He was zoned out and didn’t hear Marina walking toward him, her warm hand reaching out and lightly rubbing his forearm made him flinch and pop his eyes open quickly.

“Oh-oh Terry I’m sorry… were you crying?” Her eyebrows rose in worry and stepped into the bathroom with him.

“No sweetheart, it’s just eye drops… I swear. You nap like a house cat you know..I’m starting to think you only come over to use my couch.” Terry capped the eye solution and placed it in his medicine cabinet before resting a hand on her waist.

“If you did the same you wouldn’t need those drops boo, I take my beauty sleep seriously and you should start Mr.Night Owl and maybe you’ll get as pretty as me.” He placed a hand to his chest in feigned hurt and chuckled at her.

“Oh so I’m not pretty enough for you already?” The hand on her waist slid up to gently rub against her back.

“Mhmh you belong on the cover of vogue.. now shoo I have to empty my bladder.” She rushed a juicy kiss to his cheek before he left her to give some privacy padding across the house to his bedroom.

He let his tense body sink into the recliner in the corner of his room. Body relaxing and sinking further into the plush expensive chair, his eyes slowly rolling into his head.

“Terry…oh Smiley you actually are sleepy aren’t you…so I guess that means I can’t beg you to go to Target with me huh?” He listened to her walk closer to him until she stood next to him, eyes still closed.

He loved when she called him Smiley, the nickname she created because she said anytime he smiled or grinned even just a little all 32 of his teeth would show.

“I was gonna drag my mama with me, but she flaked on me to go wine tasting…Smiley I need to go pick up some makeup stuff for our date tomorrow, will you come with me?” She rubbed her hand over his head softly and he leaned further into her touch and rested his head against her belly.

He pulled her down into his lap and she sat sideways squealing at his quick reflexes. She had taken off her bonnet and her sleek silk pressed hair flowed past her shoulders sleek and shiny.

“Mm I love your hair Mari… so soft and long.” He ran his fingers through the course strands pleased by how the new style framed her face and made her even more irresistible. “So pretty…I’ll go with you just let me change ok?”

__

“Terry no..I am not driving this, are you crazy..What if I wreck it?” Terry was in a fit of tears. He was currently trying to convince Marina to drive his BMW X6 to Target and she was not having it.

“Then I’ll just buy another one…remember what I showed you last time? Just put your foot on the gas and press the drive button right here.” He went over it again with her before she finally felt comfortable enough to back out of his driveway and head towards Target.

They stopped at Wendy’s after Marina got a craving for it a few minutes into the drive and she eagerly ordered them both large combos.

“Man just eat the burger, one burger won’t undo your six pack Smiley I promise.”

“You just got me breaking all my rules. Got me eating red meat and sweets…eating in my car. How you gonna pay me back for all this lack of discipline?”

“Will a kiss cover me for my bamboozling activity?” Terry gripped her chin and pulled her face close to his just close enough for the tips of their noses to touch.

Her dark eyes filled with mischief locked onto his…so tantalizing and expressive, even for him. She had a way with her eyes, and he always felt so bright and important when she looked at him. “A kiss will do just fine, pretty girl.”

He allowed her to lead the kiss, her plump lips pecking gently around his mouth trying to tempt his mouth open. He inevitably gave in, too eager to stroke and roll his tongue over hers. Heads cocked to the side Terry thrusted his tongue into her mouth lost in the feel of her soft cheek and tongue. It was so hot and warm and everytime they kissed he imagined the same feeling on the tip of his dick, pure ecstasy.

A knock to the passenger side window ceased their lip locking session and Terry groaned loudly. The ceramic tint on his windows had him mean mugging the man outside of his car. Motherfucking Scotty, a well known addict in the area that couldn’t be trusted. He would run his mouth to anybody that offered him a fix and for that reason alone Terry didn’t deal with him like everyone else did, and yet here he was In Terry’s face too damn close to the one new thing he was hiding from that part of his life— Marina.

Terry pulled the gold rim glasses from his face before looking over at Marina. “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around town a few times.. he’s a good man that was dealt some bad cards in life. I help him out whenever I see him.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a crisp 50 dollar bill and rolled his window down with his back to Marina he was prepared to give a silent warning. He didn’t like being ambushed.

“Hey man you just love popping up on me huh..here’s a little something to send you on your way, stay out of trouble.” Terry sent the man a smile that didn’t meet his eyes before Scotty got the memo and thanked him before he headed back to sit in front of the restaurant. Nosey ass nigga.

“That was sweet Terry, you know your giving nature is one of my favorite things about you.” He met her gaze with a smile before bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it.

__

Target wasn’t as bad as Terry had anticipated, he had frequented the store maybe once or twice but now he was seeing the hype in it. Marina surprisingly only came for one little makeup product, something she apparently couldn’t live without a brow gel or whatever she had called it. He was enjoying her company nonetheless though, they had a date planned Saturday and he was more than looking forward to it.

“Can I get a hint on where we’re going at least.” She was at the island inside his kitchen, engorging herself on the creamy Alfredo and salmon he had made for them nimble fingers gripping the wine glass filled with moscato.

Terry wiped the white cheesy sauce from his mouth with a napkin before giving her his attention “I want you surprised sweetheart… so no hints unfortunately. Just wear that little red number you showed me today and you got it baby.”

“Aww you’re no fun Smiley… but at least your wine is good to make up for it.” She raised her glass towards his and the glasses clinked together.

“Mm you’ll love it, it’s right up your alley, now that’s all the info I can give you…you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow…how’s the new episode of your podcast coming along?”

“Ehh it’s going..I have two different subjects I wanna talk about but I’m having trouble narrowing it down. One is speaking to me more than the other one though.” Terry chewed and swallowed a piece of salmon repositioning himself on the stool.

“I’d go with the one you favor then…it’s likely that one is sticking to you more because you have great insight on it. Which you usually do on all your topics.” He grabbed their plates and dumped the remains into his trash can before loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “What’s the topic you're favoring?”

“It was more so a cocktail of things honestly, and it’ll probably be a really long episode. But it was drug abuse and the selling of drugs within our community.. and the obvious fucked up results of that on our youth and their futures.”

Terry felt his back tense up at her words before he relaxed himself. She had every right to talk about this and yet the topic couldn’t be any closer to home than it was. Here life was yet again trying to wave a red flag in his face, and it would be yet another ignored one.

“That’s a beautiful topic Mari..a really important one, I’ll be looking forward to hearing your points on it.”

Both tuckered out and tired from the day Terry headed towards one bathroom to shower and Marina headed to his other. His hands pressed firmly against the shower wall as the warm water cascaded over his sore muscles, his body called for plentiful hours of deep sleep. He was feeling deprived at this point but Marina brought him relief that sleep would come to him tonight peacefully and without the constant nightmares that haunted him. It was an attack on his mind and body that tossed him back and forth through REM sleep and deep sleep. Those souls he sought out and took came at a price, a mental one. Sometimes he wondered if he could actually ever shake the dead or if they wandered around him restlessly and unseen, waiting on their turn to torment him in the dreamworld.

He heard the tv in his bedroom switch on, an indication that somehow he was taking a longer shower than Marina had and that he was in his head longer than he had thought he was, he switched off the water before stepping out and wrapping his waist with a towel. Sleeping in bed with a woman that he had never had sexual relations with was new and he wouldn’t act as if he never thought about sex with her when she was around, because he did. Marina was fucking sexy. Her mind, her voice, her intelligence,her body..it was all a turn on for him but he was trying to do right by her, and that meant learning how to be intimate in more ways than sex.

Stepping out of his spacious walk-in closet fully clothed for bed he noticed the tv watching Marina as she laid against his pillows, remote still in hand. He accessed his smart home app from his phone and turned off his bedroom lights, weary body eager to sink into the cool mattress. She sought him out not long after he laid down, her bonnet clad head resting on his chest. He pulled her a little closer that night, her slow breathing and steady heartbeat lulling him into a deep slumber. A slumber where he met no angry souls or demons, only a warm light that encased him and drowned out the weariness.

__

“Only thing that’s saving Terry ohhh is the heart of Marinaaa.” Terry kept his left hand steady on the wheel as Marina held his right hand singing loudly into his ear as she currently butchered Summer Walker's newest single.Why he let her down those three shots of tequila he did not know. Either way it went he loved seeing her let loose, and she wasn’t particularly stuck or or anything he just rarely saw this side of her.

The red satin dress was made for her, and she was practically a magnet for his affection as they both got ready. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her soft plush thighs were exposed to him and when she dropped his hand he eagerly rubbed and kneaded them.

He couldn’t wait for her to see where they were going. He had called ahead days ago and made preparations at his restaurant; Stone Pier. It was best known for its plentiful surf and turf meal options, fun and fresh atmosphere, and elegant dining. He had planned a three course meal for them tonight over an intimate candlelit dinner.

It took no time to arrive and Marina’s confused expression was comical to him. The empty parking lot had to look absolutely insane from her point of view, but he needed her to trust the process. She sat still as Terry blindfolded her and waited patiently for him to help her out of his car. He opened the passenger side door grasping her head and slowly leading her into the building. He sat her down at the table and removed her blindfold. Pretty eyes adjusting to the low lighting in the establishment.

“Terry woww…this place is soo beautiful. I’ve passed by it so many times and never had the opportunity to check it out.”

“Well I own it so feel free to stop by whenever. I wanted this to be special, so I figured why not bring you someplace that was as special to me as you are.”

“Well you've definitely made a good impression, this place is amazing…is that a Malcom X quote over there on the wall?

“Mhm ‘A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything’ that’s one I keep with me everyday.” He watched her eyes drag all over the place soaking in one corner and the next.

“All the greenery in here..omg all the black history. Terry, this place is a true gem. Thank you for bringing me here Smiley.” They leaned forward and shared a kiss before Terry poured them both a glass of sweet red wine and signaled for his top chef to serve their first course and he and Marina indulged in more conversation.

__

The second course consisted of herb butter steak and lobster By their third course they were both full of food and wine. They shared a slice of decadent rum cake, savoring each bite of the moist cake. He watched Marina with lazy drunk eyes as she whined her waist slightly in her seat to Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Want You’. Pretty manicured fingers pointing in his direction with every lyric.

“You want me sweetheart.. give me a dance then. Show me.” He watched her confidently strut over to him and hold her hand out.

His long arms wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her into his chest. His face nuzzled into her neck pecking at it lightly as they swayed under the glass roof, stars twinkling down at them in a dazzled fashion.

“I really like you Terry Richmond, I’ll admit that realistically I’m still a little nervous about this…but I’m learning to live in the moment and trust what I can see.”

“I really like you too Marina Evans. I’m trying my hardest to show up for you in ways that cater to you, my only hope is that in the end you choose me.” He twirled her around and held her back to his front holding her close.

They circled through a few more songs before they were ready to call it a night. He handed her his car keys to get inside while he locked up his restaurant. He shut down the dining lights and music before thanking his chef for being a huge help tonight. His phone vibrated on a repeat in his pocket and pulled it from the picket of his slacks, it was his cousin Semaj. Fuck. Semaj knew not to call him today yet he did, and that only meant one thing. Some bullshit had hit the fan, or it was going to.

[ -What’s the word man..I told you I couldn’t take no calls today about business.

[Scotty’s talking man, going around saying he been seeing you out with some girl..this shit could be a problem T. I told you that nigga was watching…he don’t just pop up.

[- If he been seeing me the whole time and I haven’t been seeing him.. it’s a chance he’s working with somebody… I thought that shit was weird earlier when he popped up but I couldn’t be too sure

[- Exactly, since when you know Scotty to be anywhere around this damn city besides the Southside… yeah something ain’t right T we need to get hands on him asap!

[- Never a day to fucking breathe around here shit.. I want you, Blue, and Prime with y’all motherfucking ears to the wind behind his ass. And don’t stop until yall find him.

[- Aight I’ll keep you posted every hour on the hour he can’t be far.

Terry ended the call and sighed heavily. He was pissed, fucking enraged. Somebody was snooping in his damn business and attempting to keep tabs on him like some coked out socialite. He wanted to regulate his temper before he was back in Marina’s grace but when he turned around he found a man talking closely to Marina through his passenger side window. His face scrunched up with confusion quickly as he made a quick walk over to his car.

“Hey my man… can I help you with something?” He had to look as agitated as he felt and the stupid expression on the man’s face was hard to ignore.

“Bro this car is fucking sick… I was just asking your girlfriend or you know whatever she is, what model this was, this has to be a custom paint job or something.” The man ran an open hand over the hood of Terry’s X6 irritating him even further.

“It’s not custom, it’s factory now get your hands off of my car and learn to admire some shit without touching it!”

“Are you kidding me man it’s just a fucking car, it’s probably rented anyways.” He sent a kick to his rear passenger door before attempting to walk away.

Terry couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he went flying at the disrespectful man. He snatched the man and turned him around to face him. How dare this man think he would walk up to him, disrespect his car and leave here unscathed.Balling the front of his shirt up Terry used it as leverage to send punch after punch to his face, he never even stood a chance against Terry.

“Terry..Terry.. wait please stop! Terry you’re gonna kill him..please.” Her helpless screeches reached his ears in a panic and Terry realized he had forgotten all about their date, his words to her. What did they really mean if he was going to beat somebody to a bloody pulp in front of her. With a menacing mug on his face he shoved the absolute waste of space to the ground and stepped over him like a patch of grass.

“Remember this ass whooping because next time I put my hands on you, they gone be singing and sending you off dressed in all black."

“Get in the car Marina…I’m ready to go.” He watched her eyes flash from the beaten man to him over and over, eyes clearly not believing the scene in front of her.

“Bu-but Terry he could die we have to call an ambulance..you can’t leave him like this please.” He shook his head no and watched a hand cover her mouth in an attempt to choke back tears.

“Get. In. The. Car. Marina..now.” She jumped at his tone before she hurried into the car, makeup smudged from the tears that came in a steady stream.

He whipped out of the parking lot quickly, headlights catching the woozy steps of the beaten man as he stumbled away.

“See he’s all good..Marina sweetheart what’s all these tears for hmm, I’m the one that got disrespected. Was I supposed to let him walk away after that shit?!” His raised voice boomed in the confined space of his vehicle and he watched her put space between them. Her body pressed into the passenger side door as she thumbed tears.

“Oh I see, I’m the bad guy now…he was all in your face by MY window touching on MY car, but you only feel bad for him…got it.” Terry gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped down the freeway. This night had turned for the fucking worse and even still he was trying to mince his words.

“Why are you yelling at me… you just assaulted someone in front of me Terry, and then you threatened to kill him. You keep speaking like I’m blaming you but I asked you to stop…to just please let him go..and yo-you just wouldn’t stop.”

“What I saw back there…that wasn’t the Terry or Smiley I’ve been getting to know…you didn’t even look like yourself back there, your face and eyes were just..I don’t know. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my days off at my own home.. I don’t even get you right now.” She continued on, and he was realizing each passing minute how royally he had fucked up.

“I fucked up Mari..I see that now. I realize that what I did back there scared you and if you think less of me after it that’ll be all on me, but I don't regret it.” Pulling into his drive way he shut off his car and rested his head against the headrest.

“You keep buckling down on what you did, but you said you would kill him. Terry, that's not something I can just ignore because he kicked your car, that’s not normal to blurt out after an altercation so small. You really hurt my feelings, and I have to think about me first.”

“Am I going to hear from you again..see you…touch you?” When he reached out to touch her she pulled away, her dark eyes turning to stare at him, analyzing what actually was in front of her. She shook her head and sighed to herself before opening the door, but Terry got up to help her out instead. She hesitated to give him her hand, but eventually she let him help her out.

He pulled her into a tight hug, fingers inching up slightly into her hair to tug lightly at it. The hairspray she used tickled his nose as he inhaled the scent of it. Her hands stayed at her sides and she made no attempt at returning the affection.

“I’m not sure Terry, I need time to think and process tonight. It was all going so well before that and I wanted to trust what you told me, but I need time.”

“A kiss goodbye then?” She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before attempting to walk away. Terry pulled her back and held her face in his hands, full lips sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as his teeth slowly nipped at it. He wanted to savor what was left of this night because she still looked oh so good, and he still wanted her. He got as far as suckling against her jaw before she put a hand to his chest severing the connection.

“Goodnight Terry” she walked away without a backwards glance and he watched her leave from his driveway until he couldn’t see her car anymore.

He had plans on winning her back, and hopefully gaining what little trust back she had in him from the get go. Terry was a resourceful man with every resource possible at his fingertips, this situation was a bump in the road. Some shit she wouldn’t even remember eventually. So he’d let her run away for the night, get her pretty little head together for a few days. Then he was gonna win her back, one day at a time.

__

A/N: I said 10pm yesterday and it’s going on 8am😭I hope yall enjoy this nonetheless!

@blackmoonchilee @zillasvilla @simplyzeeka @megamindsecretlair @uniqueoutlierblog @blackerthings @keehendrixx @ranikyani @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @tvchi @23jammy @henneseyhoe @theereina @ovohanna24 @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @keyaho @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

# Aaron pierre #rebel ridge #terry richmond #black!oc #terry richmond black oc

[flwrkid14]

The Unreachable Heart of Tim Drake

Everyone wants to be Tim Drakes favorite, but not for the reasons you might think.

It’s not about Tim’s intelligence or his quick wit, though those things are undeniably impressive. It’s not about the way he somehow manages to hold the entire Bat-family together, even as they fray at the seams. It’s not even about the quiet warmth he offers, the small moments where he lets his guard down just enough to remind everyone that he’s human, too.

No.

They want to be his favorite because Tim gives and gives and gives—until there’s nothing left of him to take.

———

Bruce wants to be Tim’s favorite because it’s easier than admitting how badly he’s failed him.

Tim is a reminder of every mistake Bruce has made as a father, every time he turned his back or let Tim fall through the cracks. He wasn’t there when Tim needed him most, when Joker turned him into something unrecognizable, when Tim clawed his way back to himself alone. Bruce thinks if he could just be Tim’s favorite, maybe it would make up for all the times he wasn’t enough.

But it doesn’t.

It won’t.

And Bruce knows it.

———

Dick wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how to fix the distance between them.

It wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, Dick was Tim’s hero, the person he looked up to more than anyone else. But things changed, and the closeness they shared shattered under the weight of misunderstandings and unspoken words. Dick misses the boy who idolized him, who trusted him without question.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how to be his brother anymore.

———

Jason wants to be Tim’s favorite because he sees too much of himself in him.

He knows what it’s like to be the one everyone forgets, the one who carries the family’s burdens without complaint, even as the cracks start to show. Jason doesn’t want Tim to end up like him—bitter, angry, consumed by the feeling of being unwanted.

But Jason doesn’t know how to show that. So instead, he fights for Tim’s attention, picking at him, challenging him, pushing him away even as he tries to pull him closer.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because it would mean Tim still has room in his heart for someone like him.

———-

Steph wants to be Tim’s favorite because he’s the one she always chooses.

She loves him. God, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes. But Steph also knows Tim has walls he doesn’t let anyone past—not even her. He hides himself behind his work, behind his role as Red Robin, behind the pieces of himself he’s convinced no one else will ever understand.

She wants to be Tim’s favorite because she doesn’t know if he’s capable of letting her be anything more.

———

Cass wants to be Tim’s favorite because she sees what the others don’t.

Tim is tired. So tired he’s cracking beneath the surface, even if he’s too stubborn to show it. Cass sees the way he pushes himself, the way he gives and gives and gives until there’s nothing left. She wants to shield him from it, from the weight he insists on carrying alone.

But Tim doesn’t let her.

He doesn’t let anyone.

Cass wants to be his favorite because maybe then he’d let her take some of the weight.

———

Duke wants to be Tim’s favorite because Tim makes him feel like he belongs.

Duke is still finding his place in the Bat-family, still figuring out where he fits in this patchwork of broken people trying to make something whole. But Tim? Tim treats him like he’s always been part of it, like he’s not someone on the outside trying to find his way in.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because Tim makes him feel seen in a way no one else does. And maybe, just maybe, being his favorite would mean Duke could give that feeling back to him.

———

Damian wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how else to be a brother.

It’s not like he’ll ever admit it. Not out loud. But there’s a part of Damian that craves Tim’s approval, that wants to hear Tim say he’s proud of him, that he trusts him.

But Tim is cautious around Damian, careful in a way that feels like distance. And Damian hates it—hates that no matter how much he’s changed, no matter how hard he tries, there’s still something fractured between them.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how else to prove that he cares.

———

The truth is, everyone wants to be Tim Drake’s favorite because they know they aren’t.

Tim doesn’t play favorites.

He’s too careful for that, too afraid of what it might mean, what it might cost. He keeps himself at arm’s length, even from the people who love him most.

They want to be Tim’s favorite because maybe then he’d stop being so afraid to let them in.

But Tim doesn’t know how to do that.

And maybe he never will.

[nekrosmos]

Oh I'm getting NikPrice thoughts with Price being trans.

Price who transitioned early and was lucky enough to easily pass. He's tall, jaw sharp, voice deep, grew facial hair pretty quickly. It was his well-kept secret, and that was it.

And then came Nikolai. Older, smart, handsome Nikolai, who looked at Price like he was the most beautiful thing in the entire world, who stayed by John's side whenever he needed him, whose attraction to him was barely concealed. John never allowed himself to reciprocate those feelings, even if deep down he shared them. He couldn't, he didn't want him, of all people, to know.

Years, decades of this. They aged together, still alive despite everything, and the regrets grew more and more unbearable. Even then, all these years later, Nikolai still looked at John the same way, dark eyes staring lovingly at him when he thought John wasn't paying attention, a deep sadness hidden behind his gentle smile.

Even someone as stubborn as John cracks eventually, and he does, one day, late at night, after sharing a few drinks with Nik in his Black Hawke. Nik stares at him for what seems like an eternity, searching for approval in John's blue eyes, his face slowly approaching his after obtaining it, and their lips finally meet, barely touching at first, both of them shy, uncertain, the moment suspended in time, but eventually closing the gap, a gentle kiss saying more than either of them could at the moment.

It takes them a while, then, to break the silence that follows. John's hands are tightly gripping the fabric of his pants around the knees, fingers digging into them as he looks down, while Nikolai stares at him, trying to understand.

When he asks him if everything is okay, it takes everything in John to not run away. He doesn't, instead taking a long, deep breath, and starts talking.

Once done, he just looks at the floor, feeling numb, a two decade old anxiety replaced by a feeling of emptiness, almost at peace with what is to come, like a soldier accepting his death.

"I know." Is all Nikolai answers, his fingers tentatively brushing against John's, dark eyes staring at his worried face in the dark.

"You do?" Price's voice is quiet, broken, his eyes meeting Nik's, searching for an answer. The gentleness on Nikolai's face is almost enough to break him, here and there.

"I saw the scars, a long time ago. I'm sorry, John."

There is a lot Price needs to think about, a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to do. He smiles weakly, opening his hands and letting Nik intertwine his fingers with his, the warmth of his skin almost feeling like another kiss. This time, he's the one leaning forward and placing his lips against Nik's, the Russian accepting it, a gentle hand leaving his and letting his fingers brush against Price's beard.

The two men will have a lot to talk about, eventually. For now, however, all they can do is start making up for lost time in the safety of Nikolai's helicopter.

[orphicmusings]

this is so self indulgent but i love the idea of modern!viktor with reader who is more artistic/humanities inclined rather than stem…museum dates are a staple, obviously, whether they’re art or history, you walk hand in hand and sit on the little benches when you need a break and talk about your favorite parts (he loves seeing artifacts and antiques!!!) and he loves that he gets to hear you gush about each subject you come across and watch your eyes flicker with absolute light as you learn more and more, the passion for it being the best thing the two of you share other than your love for each other.

and then he’ll take you to one of those science discovery places, and he loves to freak you out with gnarly facts and will spend an hour in the planetarium with you if they let you, mapping out the constellations in the dim light in your own little journals, pretending you’re ancient astrologers. one time, on a particularly slow day, due to the relaxing music and general ambience, you both had fallen asleep in there— your head on his shoulder, his head on top of yours, and a staff member found you about a half hour before closing.

spoiling your partner with fine things such as designer clothes and jewelry is great, and he would if you wanted it, but to him? the most fun he’ll ever have spoiling you is watching you go absolutely ham in a bookstore. following behind you through the shelves with a basket to collect your pile, and you making sure you’re picking out a few you can read together (you reading aloud to him to get his mind to quiet down enough for him for fall asleep—he loves jane austen). seeing you geek out over limited edition covers of classics, dracula, frankenstein (which you affectionately call him, viktor frankenstein, when he is particularly too stubborn to leave his lab), greek myths, shakespeare, even if you already have a copy, he’ll buy you this one simply because it looks better on your joint bookshelf.

and if you ever doubt your intelligence in comparison to his? after trying to figure out something mathematical and handing it to him and him getting it done within seconds? even muttering a “right, sorry, i’m stupid” as a kneejerk reaction to existing in a lifetime of academic settings where stem is prioritized as The Smart People Subject and the humanities are only there as frivolous endeavors— will earn you the most disappointed look. “do not talk about yourself like that, my darling. i mean it.” he tells you firmly, getting more annoyed at you putting yourself down than he ever would with you asking him for help. oh, and if you were feeling particularly self deprecating and decided to go back at him?

god have mercy on you as he has you reading and retaining information from dense texts to him as he’s buried between your thighs, just to prove you can do what he couldn’t.

“mhm, and what have we learned?”

“that…” you caught your breath. “orpheus actually proved he loved eurydice by-“

“no.” he chided gently with a breathy smirk of his own. “that my love is entirely capable, and skilled, the most clever little darling i know…yes?”

you can’t stop the bashful smile that pulls at your lips and the heat that dusts your cheeks when you answer in affirmation.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Unsurvivable ride - Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: Old man loves his car, and you, once again, written on a train, author loves old men and old men know

Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of person who loved to boast. Sure, when he was young, he was cocky. Impressing female reporters with his card tricks or the fact that he could crack a walnut with his neck. A line that didn't make it to air was him saying, "So you don't need to worry about sitting on my face, I'm strong, I can take it, see?" right after. And even with "Fernando is faster than you," even with the "villain" comments in drive to survive, he wasn't prideful. He was just honest. You wouldn't see him flaunting his wealth or doing noveau rich stuff. Yacht aside, luxury cars aside. Yes, he had those things but didn't ever mention them or use them as props, the way some of the other drivers did. Fernando Alonso was the king of quiet luxury, old money. But, with every job came its little quirks. And in Nando's was the new car. 

Don't get him wrong he loved the Valkyrie. It was truly a beautiful car. Fast, too. Perfect for him. But having to prep your shared Monaco living room for it was not fun. Fernando loved having pictures of you two around, the framed memories were a must-have. Whether it was in the tax paradise where most F1 drivers lived, in Spain, to even his garage. Everyone was seeing that Fernando was with you. It was almost funny to see new people guess the nature of your relationship. With you being closer in age to your 20s than your thirties, people assumed you were his relative, a cousin, or perhaps a sister. Some even thought you were his daughter. Then he pulled out the vacation pictures of himself, taking down your swimsuit with his teeth. That cleared up the fact that you were his girlfriend. All the pictures were gone for the day. Any magazines or books that didn't seem like they fit him. Your clothes that hung on the hooks, everything. Truth be told, now the living room looked white and sterile and, thus, perfect for a video. Fernando had to film, and it was fun. Driving around the streets of Monaco in this custom beast didn't suit him still. But he had to do it again and again. That was in his contract. 

Despite him having to take it around all the time, you didn't get a chance to ride in it for a long time. Truth is, you avoided it. The two seater was way too fancy for your taste. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling that you'd scratch it just by opening the door or something. So you didn't even come near it. Took public transport or walked. Used the excuse of "I know it's Monaco, and people don't film you as much, but in this, they definitely will.". And that was literally the point. The Aston Martin marketing person called it a mere exposure theory. Show something to people enough, and they will remember it. Then something about the car creating organic word of mouth and this driving sales. Nando thought it was a little ridiculous that all he drove week in and week out was an Aston Martin. Especially after Brazil. 

But duty called. And the word of Lawrence Stroll and co was law. So Nando took the Valkyrie out, again and again. Finally, he managed to get you in it. Seeing you in the Valkyrie did something to him. Maybe it was the triple header. Maybe it was you in a mini dress pressed up against him. With the seat belt between your perfect tits, he was a goner. Lord knows how he made it to the restaurant without slipping his fingers inside of you while driving with his left hand. It was a miracle. The fancy restaurant he had picked out had no vallet. Only an exclusive underground parking. Fernando got out of the car with a plan in mind. By the end of the night, your first ride in the Valkyrie was going to be a memorable one. 

Everything went smoothly. Then it was time to go. Fernando put on an Oscar worthy performance of looking for his car keys. A pat down of his jeans, a scrunched up face, a low swear in Spanish. All the while, they sat snugley in his jacket pocket. 

"I must have left them on the dash. The car, it has this app that lets you do certain functions remotely. Can you look after I've rolled down the window, doll." He asks. Sometimes, he loves how serviceable you are. Others would call you ditzy, but he knew that all you ever wanted was to be a good girl for him. So you didn't question why the Valkyrie's windows could be opened remotely. You assumed it had something to do with its confusing butterfly doors. Fernando rolls it down, and you twist your body inside. At his plea to "really look, make sure the keys aren't somewhere on the floor," your entire upper body is pretzled in. Leaving your ass to stick out. And that's when Nando strikes like a viper. The window moves up. Not enough to hurt you, but it is definitely enough to make you stuck. He unlocks and locks the car again to taunt you, to show you that he wants you there. 

"Can I touch you, pretty girl?" He asks, but you can already feel his fingers near your bare legs. He's flipped up your skirt, completely exposing your underwear. As soon as you say yes, he traces the seams of it, enjoying how you get excited over that. 

"Look at you, already getting wet for me. We'll have to be quick here, princess. Is that okay with you?" He asks, and he's happy when you practically beg for that. Truth is, he can't stand to tease you right now. He needs you like a fish needs water. Fernando wasted no time in taking off your panties and putting two fingers inside of you. He curls them and tries to get them to hit that spot inside of you. When he uses his other hand to rub your clit, you're a goner, clenching against him. But he doesn't stop.

"You got yours, doll. It's time for me to get mine." He says. Fernando's belt clangs on the concrete, his pants pooled against his ankles. He takes his fingers out of you, and you can hear a loud suck as you guess he puts them in his mouth. The same fingers wrap around his shaft as he guides himself inside of you. The position is driving you both crazy. You can feel his deeper than usual, and you can't squirm away from him. You're at his mercy, and he has none. He thrusts inside of you, almost bottoming out and then slides almost all the way out. He squeezes your ass and hips. Watches himself wreck your pretty weeping pussy with his cock. Feels you get tighter against him. Sees you cum and then clench against nothing as he pulls out. Wonders whether his cum might somehow damage the paint as he watches it on your thighs. 

"There goes one incentive to keep driving this thing. Now I'll think of this every time I get in it." Fernando says, to see you squirm and tell him to shut up. Yep, he was gonna make you warm up to the Valkyrie, one way or another. 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Michael Podhorzer at Weekend Reading:

But, as we will see, America didn’t swing rightward, but couchward:

The popular vote result was almost entirely a collapse in support for Harris and Democrats, not an increase in support for Trump and MAGA. Trump was no more popular this year than four years ago, while Harris significantly underperformed Biden 2020.

Most of Harris’s losses were due to anti-MAGA surge voters staying home.2 She lost the most ground in deep-Blue urban areas, where the dangers of a second Trump administration seemed most remote. About 19 million Americans who cast ballots for Biden in 2020 did not vote in 2024.

Anti-MAGA surge voters stayed home because they were less alarmed by a second Trump Administration than they were four years ago. A key to Biden’s victory was high turnout from less-engaged voters who believed they had something to lose under Trump. In 2024, however, about 15 million fewer votes were cast “against” Trump than in 2020.

As I’ve been saying for years, America has an anti-MAGA majority, but not necessarily a pro-Democratic one. In 2020 (and 2022, in part), alarm about Trump and MAGA was enough to overcome the cynicism and alienation of mostly younger voters who desperately want bigger systemic change, but who oppose the MAGA agenda. This time, their cynicism won out. This was in no small part because the media and other non-partisan civil society leaders were themselves more skeptical of the dangers, and because the inaction of the Biden Administration and Democrats in Congress against MAGA threats belied their rhetoric of existential dangers to the nation.3 This map, from the New York Times, does a much better job making clear where Trump’s “gains” came from – namely, from Harris’s losses.

Indeed, the defining feature of American politics this century is that neither party can “win” elections anymore; they can only be the “not-loser.” Only thanks to the two-party system can the not-loser be crowned the “winner,” since there is no way to fire the incumbent party without hiring the opposition party. Yet political commentators keep confusing shifts in the two parties’ electoral fortunes with changes in voters’ basic values or priorities. A collapse in support for Democrats does not mean that most Americans, especially in Blue America, are suddenly eager to live in an illiberal theocracy. Consider that only once before in American history have three consecutive presidential elections seen the White House change partisan hands, and that nine out of the last ten midterm or presidential elections have been “change elections,” in the sense that either the presidency, the House, or the Senate changed partisan hands,4 which is completely unprecedented.5

[...]

Harris Lost Ground with Anti-MAGA Voters

As regular readers might recall, Biden won in 2020 thanks to a surge of new and less-frequent voters who hadn’t shown up in 2016, and who voted much more Democratic than 2016 voters. These surge voters were the critical “anti-MAGA but not necessarily pro-Democrat” bloc that Harris needed to turn out again in order to win. This year, based on VoteCast data (see chart in the previous section), we can estimate that about 19 million people who voted for Biden four years ago stayed home. (40 percent of those voting in 2024 had voted for Biden in 2020, and 40 percent had voted for Trump. From there, it’s simple arithmetic.16) Moreover, with the same caveats until the voter files are updated, both VoteCast and Navigator found that in the battleground states, a greater share of 2020 Trump voters than Biden voters cast ballots in 2024, albeit by a smaller margin than in the rest of the country. VoteCast also asked whether voters cast ballots “for” the candidate they chose or “against” the other candidate.17 The results show that about 15 million fewer votes were cast “against” Trump in 2024 than in 2020. That suggests a lot of missing “anti-MAGA but not pro-Democrat” voters.

Michael Podhorzer at Weekend Reading delivers a prognosis as to why Kamala Harris lost to Donald Trump: Enough of the anti-MAGA vote chose the couch instead voting at all.

[lolitastories]

Ours

Rafe Cameron

Description: This will be a short story on how two people who love each other find their way back to one another. They have a child together and have to focus on giving her the best version of themselves but maybe their best version of themselves is when they are apart.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3 (Coming soon).

No matter the reason why Rafe and I weren’t officially together could ever make me deny him seeing his daughter. Rafe and I were two young to know what life would bring us after we met 4 years ago. At 19 I needed a change after graduating high school, so I moved to the outer banks. My friends came over to visit and when our pre campfire on the beach was rudely interrupted by a drunk girl, Rafe was there to watch as his friend Topper stopped the girl from starting a fight with one of my friends. My friend was more confident than me and invited them to stay and enjoy the sunset, since then Rafe and I spent most of our free days together. 3 years later I found out we were pregnant. Now I won’t admit I was scared because I wasn’t. Yet per my mother, my actions would tell you otherwise. When I found out I couldn’t block Rafe out of my life for even a day before he started sending constant messages and calling. I definitely couldn't ignore when he would personally go out of his way to come and find me. I was running out of places to hide so I had decided to move back home for a bit. I couldn’t stay too long because it would make my family suspicious, so thankfully being in my first trimester gave me the advantage to knock that reason out of the way. But soon I had to go back and face the decision I had made. The time back home had given me 3 weeks to think how and when I was going to tell Rafe about our future child. Since I was young, I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not this young but truthfully, I was jumping on clouds. The one thing I wanted to make sure before getting pregnant was choosing the right father for my children. He needed to be kind, loving, protective, but most of all understanding. Rafe was all of that and more. Not only did he have all those traits he also made me feel comfortable around him. He was the first man in my life that took care of the little girl who was scared to show herself. He brought out the pain and made it disappear. So, as I walked over to his property in Tanny hill I was determined to settle with whatever he chose to do with the information, that was until I saw him and another girl in his kitchen sharing a drink. I shouldn’t have gone into conclusion, but I was pregnant, and all my emotions were everywhere. I trusted him and when he found out I was back on the island he came to find me. He told me who she was and how he loved me. If it was me alone, I would jump on his arms and take him back, but it wasn’t. I needed to think of the little creature growing inside of me now, so after telling him I was pregnant I also told him I needed time to think about us. I wasn’t testing him, but this little person has become my world, and I needed to prepare to give them my all before welcoming it to the real world.

“We don’t like it here.” I hear the low and grumpy tone coming from behind me. As I turn, I let out a chuckle seeing Rafe and our daughter sharing the same expression. He had her hooked up to his chest as we were making our way to yet another antique store.

“I can understand it from her, but you need to stop acting like a baby.” I shut the tailgate of his trunk and started walking. I heard another groan but soon enough his heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer until he was walking alongside me.

“Promise me you won’t be like your mommy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I knew where this sentence was going. “Well,” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to walk towards the entrance of the store. “Maybe the good parts but when it comes to shopping, I hope you will drain my bank account at decent stores.” I grab the door hand and pull it open. Rafe walks in giving me a teasing look. I don’t respond knowing it would only lead to a longer conversation down a hole I don’t like. I walk over to grab a cart and walk over to where Rafe is waiting for me. “Every time you come into an antique store you buy nothing. Why do you always bring a cart?”

“Habit.” I shrug as I begin to look around. My mother, siblings and I would enjoy a Saturday in thrift stores and antique shops. We would later get food and rush home with a smile on our faces, it didn’t matter if we were carrying 12 bags or nothing, we were happy.

“Habits do die hard.” He says in a lower tone. I straightened up looking over to him as he played with our daughter's hands. I walk closer, placing my hands over his.

“And I am very proud of you Rafe,” As I looked into his eyes, I felt words choking to get out, but I held them down.

“What a beautiful baby.” Our heads turn looking over to a mid-thirties lady? as she smiled towards us. “Oh, look at her tiny shoes!” She squealed coming over to touch her small shoes. “I remembered my kid's feet being this small, almost making me want another little one.” We laugh alongside her. “Are you two planning to have more?” That question made my smile fade really quick. I looked over to Rafe who had a similar expression. “Either way you two are still young. Enjoy her this little and as much as possible because time goes by fast. You spend your time on things other than family and when you decide to give it priority it's too late.” Her words were like a knife stabbing me right in the heart.

“How many kids do you have?” I could hear their conversation faintly. My fingers began to tighten along the cart's handle. My body began to heat up while my head was spinning.

“Well, it was nice to talk to you two, but I have to find my two devils running around here somewhere.” I was functioning enough to give her a smile before she walked away.

“You, okay?” Rafe moves closer looking over my face. I nod slowly before shaking the uneasiness away and smiling up at him again.

“Yeah. We need to hurry if we want to catch the other stores before they close.” Rafe groans, throwing his head back.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I raised my hand to playfully shove him but then I remembered he was holding our daughter. “Did you see that?” he exaggerated as he turned to look down. “Mommy was trying to hurt daddy.” I roll my eyes and turn around to continue walking. My heart was melting when I heard our baby giggling at his fake studded words. “See, she agrees with me.”

“She does because she is such a daddy’s girl.” I turn my head to see Rafe smiling proudly as our baby looks up to him in admiration. “Just wait until she starts dating,” I bite my lips holding back a laugh to how fast his smile fell. “She will put you second,” I teasingly whispers.

“No, she would not! I will make sure of it because she won’t date until I am dead” I come to a halt and turn around to face him.

“I am %110 percent sure she would choose him and fight against you to keep the boy around.”

“Nothing backs up your statement.” He keeps his head high.

“She is a girl.” I simply state. “She will be smart but at the end of the day she is a girl. And as a girl myself I know it will happen because I happened to me,” He looks down with confusion on his face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I argued with my father because of a boy, till this day he still doesn’t like him. but I would do it again.” I don’t regret getting into an argument because of him. I choose the right choice to protect the boy's name, because he keeps on defying everything my father said he was going to do and be. “But don’t worry too much, you two will be okay.”

“Are you and your dad, okay?” I shake my head. I haven’t even told them I had a child. I know my father loved me but until I had Rafe, and I figured out, he would never accept it. I also am not in a hurry because it's my life and I am very happy.

“We will be.” I let out a sigh seeing how even our daughter was keeping quiet. “Let go because I am already hungry.” I smile, turning around to focus back on the shelves. I picked up a small book that read Collection Shakespeare: Hamlet. Before I opened it the book was taken from my hand. Rafe’s face comes to sit right beside my ear. His hot breath fanned down my neck and I could feel his smile radiate against my skin.

“Well until that happens, I can be your daddy,” He slowly whispers. His warm breath moves closer, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. It had been so long since I felt his lips on such a little intimate spot. When I regained my conscious back, he had already parted. I turned around to him, opening the small yellow book. “I will start by reading my two girls a book” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his fingers to shush me. I watch our daughter enticed by his voice as he reads Hamlet. His eyes following along the words and looking over to me, when he sees a smile placed on my lips he continues his interpretation of the book. I lean against the cart and watch as he continues to be and grow into the father I prayed for my children.

[axhellart]

Leona and a representation with love topics (female & male)

Everything said on this analysis is just a personal opinion, I don't mean to offend nor step on someone else's view or headcanons. Thanks to @/Viperkun to translate it.

First of all, we need to start from the basics and ask ourselves, Who is Leona Kingscholar? Leona is a complex character, filled by development which not everyone sees through or most of the time tends to not notice. He's a character that tends to have high expectations over a depression pretty deep and prolonged, there´s many themes regarding those feelings of inferiority, demotivation and many others, which leads to his self sabotage. However, at first glance he doesn't allows himself to feel pity towards others due to his own high ego and pride, he's a man that despite finding his own life pretty unfair, keeps going on in his own way and stipule.

Now, how would this affect his romantic relationships? The answer may change depending on the person who is by his side, this includes gender. Leona is very polite towards women since he's from a country which prioritizes them, they're stronger and bigger than the usual males from the same country, and so, even if women doesn't really fit this kind of criteria, he's still going to be respectful towards them.

No, he wouldn't be a role model prince (as an example, Eliza, with who he shared a few words one on one, then nothing more), but he's not going to have thoughts or actions that could be considered nor even be close to the category or definition of "incel".

He's not someone who overpowers by his strength or title over women; yes, he speaks with sarcasm, cynicism, and teasing is his second language, but he would never start any situation in which he would make someone uncomfortable or even less put someone at risk or danger (Overblot aside, since Yuu has no specific gender. If that was the case and Yuu was a girl -just like Savanaclaw's manga Yuu-, it's not that Leona decided to have a breakdown due to her or to hurt her, it was something out of his control due to circumstances)

In the case we talk about a boy, it wouldn't be too different from how we see Leona acting towards the rest of the twst cast in game; maybe the level of respect would lessen just a bit to talk in a bolder way we can consider as you to you.

I want to clarify that I'm not saying Leona is a bully towards a romantic male interest, just that he would probably have more fluid talks through a mutual understanding by sharing similar biological features if we put emotional and psychological sides apart, Reiterating it wouldn't be too far from his canon interactions with the original cast. Regarding my personal opinion (as well as this post is) I don't see Leona as someone who uses petnames with his romantic interest, at least not early into the relationship (established or not)

I know, there are many who have seen him or portray him as someone who would use nicknames as "my love", "darling", etc, and I don't invalidate any of them, though I can't really see them coming from someone who's stoic and serious most of the time. "Love melts even the coldest of hearts", yes, however it's complicated relating this through a romantic or platonic relationship with Leona, it's a bit complicated and takes some time.

As I mentioned before, he's a man with issues,problems which were born from deep insecurities and an inferior complex too huge to make them disappear all of a sudden just for love. It's a slow process, I'm not saying that he's going to be toxic once he gets into a relationship just that as many others the relationship would take more time and it's going to be complicated to finally establish it. The first phase of Leona being in love is denial, his main goal won't be focusing emotionally on a person, however, if he falls through this thought he would probably and mostly spend his time with said person; not being a man who would easily please someone with words, let's remember his brain tends to go under the logical side of things rather than emotional.

Even so, he's a man who's predominant love language (at least through this phase) is gift giving. Leona is a smart and sharp-eyed man, knowing at least a bit of the interest of the ones around him (Just look at Idia's second birthday card in which Leona gives him a chess set or how in more than on ocassion he gives Ruggie different things without him asking him to do so under their agreement of basic services; even when he gives a salad to Riddle or a pen to Vil, despite being unnecesary objects, and most of them being related to more of a silly/fun kind of interaction, they exist to let you know that he remembers those special days, he knows what to do, he is a man that sees and most importantly listens to his surroundings). Even if Leona's romantic interest doesn't mention they don't want anything Leona would read that somehow, he'll give it a meaning and provide surprise gifts through different kind of occasions for no apparent reason (money isn't a problem for him).

Moment of interlude, appreciate the kitten:

Ok ,let's continue. Once the relationships progresses, PDA will make it's entrance. Leona would be pretty clingy with his loved one, letting his own scent on them to let the others know that he was there first. Don't misunderstand nor mistake this as the kind of a response from a toxic or possessive person, he knows when to give space and how, even he needs it, but that doesn't mean he would let his lover go around without their clothes having the slightest of his scent on it.

He enjoys to take naps on his lover's lap, or even sleeping while embracing them. If we focus on a more natural-like related environment, lions tends to demonstrate their care to others by caressing each other's heads with their own, caressing their fur and also leaving some love bites; it wouldn't be much different here.

Personally I can see Leona giving love bites as a sign of affection; bites on the cheeks, shoulders, hands or neck (this without leading to a sexual side), leaning his head against his lover's one, or their shoulders if they're hugging, lazy little kisses around their face. I've read that when it comes to a girl, Leona would even ask for permission for a kiss, again related to the topic of consent and respect, to which I agree being someone who would ask for permission without words but actions, subtle, around two or three that would feel more than enough for him.

I don't see Leona jumping over or around someone to express his love through the first months into the relationship, he would be patient, testing the waters to see if this person isn't playing or making fun of him and his trust, something that has happened with other characters from the cast.

Please don't misunderstands my words, I've said before that he would ask for consent if his partner was a girl, but this works in case his romantic interest is a boy too, I just see him being more teasing with the last example.

Conclusion: Leona would never be categorized as a toxic man that would use his strength or status over someone he loves. Even if he ever could do so, the most possible scenario is an accidental one and he would make sure to apologize if he mistreated or make his partner uncomfortable. Leona isn't someone that would be afraid of apologizing when he knows he has done something wrong (we can see this during Tamashina Mina and how he apologizes to Jack by not thinking about how the hot weather would affect him since he wasn't from the same place as him). This also doesn't means that he would leave his pride aside, all he has is his own pride anyways, for good or wrong.

He's a responsible man, attentive, someone who wouldn't be the best at using cliche or romantic words at first; but everything will change with time and a slow development, overthrowing the bad times that he could experience as a partner while evolving into someone capable to keep a relationship of respect and lots of mutual and understanding love.

[jester-lover]

Batfam with a Desi! S/O

CWs: Fem! aligned reader discussions of discrimination, angst, spoilers, but overall fluff

AN: I'm desi and I rarely see desi! reader content out here, so I felt the need to deliver, would love feedback! Also, I'm very new to the Batfamily dynamic, so please don't think anything OOC is intentional.

Bruce

You’ve got to be a really smart person to catch his eye; when you’ve got him, he’s absolutely ensnared by you. Bruce worships the damn ground you walk on, and he respects your culture from the get-go.

As a businessman, he’s met people from all countries. He knows how to behave respectfully towards your family without much nagging. By that I mean, he’ll take his shoes off when he gets to your place.

You know those big gold bangles and accessories you’ve always wanted? You’ll get them. Bruce knows what an investment gold can be, and he’s insistent on only the best for you.

Desi culture is very family-oriented, and while at first, he’s a little put off by how close everyone is, he warms up to it. Your family adores him because they know he can take care of you, and he actually puts in effort to connect with your identity.

He encourages you to wear traditional clothes to every press event you attend, and whenever you’re at desi events together, he’ll wear a kurta too. Imagine going to a desi wedding with a billionaire in tow, and he starts throwing hundreds on the dance floor lol.

You worry about him regarding his double life, but he tries to keep the crime in Gotham away from you the best he can.

Dick

He’s so down bad about you his own teammates make fun of him for it.

Dick would see you doing something like oiling your hair and beg to try it out too, so now you oil his hair once weekly. He tells everyone it’s a secret, but they all know it got better as soon as he was with you.

He would love watching sappy old Bollywood/Tollywood movies with you; the plots and slang might be outdated, but he loves the ornateness of it all. Like he’s a sucker for good background and costume design.

Your family loves how much attention he pays to himself and his body, and he practically soaks in the adoration of any number of little cousins he can pick up and spin around at family functions.

Speaking of functions, you know he’s gonna be in the middle of the dance floor. Does he know even a single song or move? Absolutely he does not, but is he gonna try to replicate SRK from his heart? Yes, he is.

He might shed a little tear the first time he sees you in traditional clothes; you just look so pretty to him. He loves seeing you in lehengas and saris, especially the long, flowy fabric that makes you look like a princess to him.

Jason

I really don’t think your family would like him at first, but he’s committed to you, and he’s gonna be with you as long as you’ll have him. He’ll happily immerse himself in your culture and eventually gain their trust, albeit, hanging on a thread.

Similarly to Dick, he’ll ask for you to try oiling his hair, but he’d love oiling your hair too, helping you tend to it during slow days. 

While none of the other people here would be quiet in the face of you facing discrimination, Jason would be the most willing to cause equal or worse harm. God forbid someone acts rude or racist towards you; they will find their lives slowly falling apart around them. From flat tires to burnt-down houses, he will willingly cause misery for those who have upset you over something you couldn’t possibly control.

Loves to help you cook; seeing a dish come together makes him feel all domestic and giddy inside. Even if it’s something simple, like a cup of chai or basic daal, he loves the richness of the flavors and spice. His spice tolerance is also high, so you don’t need to make your shared meals blander.

Worrying about clothes is a little out of his general interest, but he loves how opulent your traditional clothes are, like the amount of attention to detail and elegance. He thinks you look pretty even after the event, shoes in hand and hair messy after dancing for hours. He’ll carry you to the car if you ask him.

On the topic of clothes, Jason would look so gorgeous in a silky black kurta; I just know it.

Tim

One of my favorite gora pakoras.

He’d love to visit your country of origin someday; warm weather, good food, meeting your extended family—it’s all great for him.

Loves desi sweets so much. His favorites are mostly kulfi and syrupy treats like gulab jamun, but he loves snacks like pakoras.

This is the boy you want to bring home; he’s smart, self-reliant, comes from money, and is willing to keep up with the various traditions we have. Tim will happily learn your language, even if just to greet people respectfully at events. Your desi mom will literally start telling you to act more like him.

He’ll get himself matching kurtas to your outfits if you want him to, even if he kind of just sits around at events. It's not that he doesn’t want to socialize; he’s just a little nervous.

Tim will watch all the Desi rom-coms you want with you, especially the musical ones; they’re his guilty pleasure.

Duke

He’s so sweet, genuinely such a good partner in general, but also so conscious of cultural and social differences. 

Duke Thomas would be the type of boyfriend who carries around extra safety pins whenever you’re in traditional clothes or bobby pins for your hair, just thoughtful in little but important ways.

Running around fighting crime really takes a lot out of a guy, so you know he’d love to eat some hearty food; I think his favorites would be biryani or anything similarly substantial. 

This is the boy who’d spend any spare hour he has listening to you ramble on about family drama that goes back three generations and spans 3 continents. He’ll even help you oil your hair while he’s at it; he’s pretty decent at massaging it into your scalp. 

His favorite clothes on you are the less gown-like desi clothes, like the Shalwar Kameez; Duke thinks you look absolutely adorable in a dupatta.

He adores you so much because of everything that makes you, you. That includes loving your culture.

Barbara

Barbara’s such an ideal girlfriend in any situation, but with a desi partner, she’d really adore exploring your culture with you.

Another one who’d love watching Bollywood/Tollywood movies with you, especially some of the newer ones by more obscure directors, focusing on women’s issues and other elements of modern Desi society.

She would help you do your makeup for formal events, and it will be locked down for the night. Imagine wearing matching lehengas with Barb; she’d look so stunning!

Warms up to your family pretty quickly; she loves sharing chai and biscuits in the morning with them, talking about all the happenings in the city.

Barbara loves desi jewelry; she’d adore it if you got her a piece. She loves seeing you in ornate matching sets, just decked out in glamour.

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Celebration: Tears of Pearl - Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @madisonbroxson1 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog  @readings-to-share  @sameenbyhat

Companion piece to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

You’re wearing pearls,  Tahitian black pearls to be exact.

 It’s the first thing Eliot notices because it’s an unusual choice for a woman of your calibre. You society girls usually prefer diamonds, the bigger the better. That’s the first indication you’re not like the others, it’s not the last.

He spends a year getting to know you as your personal protection specialist. You hate the fact you have a bodyguard but he was hired by your fiancé Moreau after threats have been made by some of the people he’s pissed off.

“I can’t have anything happening to my investment.” He tells Eliot as he sits across from him at a desk that costs more than most homes these days. “This marriage opens up a lot of doors for me, gives me connections I wouldn’t have access to.”

“What does her father get out of it?” He’d asked as he flicked through your dossier.

“A cash injection into some of his more problematic businesses.” He’d said as he lounged back in his chair. “He can’t stand the shame of failing.”

You are everything that Eliot does not expect from someone whose a daughter in one of the founding families. He sees the work you do with those charities, the way you immerse yourself in it as if you’re trying to make up for the sins of those that came before you. You’re not content with cutting a cheque, you need to be involved and not in the public shit either, the stuff that would get you recognition, but the grassroots stuff. Teaching kids to read, sitting with the elderly who have no families and then there’s the homeless, the people who don’t have a voice.

The first time you sit down next to a veteran in the street Eliot almost hurls you right back up because you, you don’t seem to understand the risk that comes with being with Moreau. The fact the people who are trying to hurt him will use you to do it.

“Let me take five minutes to share a coffee and a sandwich with my new friend Joe.” You negotiate and he reluctantly agrees.

It’s not five minutes, it’s thirty because Joe, he’s non-threatening and watching you interact with him it’s fascinating. You don’t act like other people, you don’t talk over him, try to give him advice, you just listen and to a guy like Joe whose spent years being in the background, ignored, it’s overwhelming, which is why you take his hand when he gets a little upset, clasping it tightly in your own. He understands in that moment that you’re lonely, that you probably have been for a long time.

When you do come away Eliot’s silent because he isn’t sure how to articulate this new knowledge. It’s only when you get to the car that he notices your pearl necklace is gone, that you must have placed it into Joe’s cup.

“You gonna keep giving away all your jewellery like that?” He asks you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

“They’re just things.” You say distractedly, looking out of the window. “Things that could help other people who actually need it.”

That’s when Eliot realises how trapped you are in this world, it’s a gilded cage you were born into, not one that you want. When he looks back he knows that that’s the moment that things changed between the two of you, he saw you for you, not the role that Moreau had crafted for you.

Six months down the line, you’re wearing a different set of pearls, a more expensive set and Eliot’s tearing them from your throat, breaking the strands because you’re in the midst of a panic attack and the damn things are practically padlocked around your neck with a gold clasp that can only be undone with a key. The pearls scatter across the floor, rolling in all directions and that lock, he throws it out the window in disgust.

It’s another Moreau special. A collar to remind you who you belong to because he saw you talking to another man at a charity event, one that had paid you a little too much attention. He doesn’t know that Eliot spends most nights in your bed, that he makes love to you in the shower before he puts on his suit and pretends he’s been in his own room all along.

“I don’t want to marry him.” You sob as Eliot uses his thumb to chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks. He despises the kind of man that can do this to you, that steals away your autonomy, that tries to stamp out all the goodness in your soul.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he looks into your eyes. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I promise you I will.”

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[shaunashpmn]

follow up analysis post to this: @lauraleetaylor !!

i don’t think you can fully understand this concept without touching on 4 things: nat’s upbringing, lottie’s upbringing, and each of their relationships with the group before and after the crash. so i tried to section them, but they also do lead into each other a lot so it’s hard to do exactly :)

nat’s upbringing

compared to most of (if not all) the other characters, we actually hear a lot about nat’s childhood and her upbringing as a whole. we know she grew up in a trailer, presumably somewhere on the outskirts of town considering jackie is suggested to live more in the central, upper/middle-class area and usually these two homes don’t end up situated near each other. we know she had an abusive alcoholic father, and a mostly neglectful mother, although seemingly her mother’s neglect was rooted in fear instead of abusive tendencies like her fathers.

alcoholism and child abuse are two of the core stereotypes projected onto working class people, and by fitting these stereotypes, natalie faces a lot of societal backlash. she herself gets into drinking and drugs, especially following her father’s death, and even takes other measures such as dying her hair to try and distance herself from the pretty shit reality she has to live in.

due to the history of sex work and it’s stigma amongst working class communities, nat is also often stereotyped as a “slut”. even at such a young age, and having not slept with an outlandish number of people. even those who don’t know really anything about her perceive her this way, which is yet another example of the way negative stereotyping is so prevalent amongst lower classes. this is also linked heavily to sexism, of course, but being a teenager who has seen this kind of thing play out time and time again, i find it incredibly hard to believe that this is directed at nat just because they “don’t like her”.

we see how growing up in poverty has affected her life since the very beginning and even well into the adult timeline. she still reminisces on her teen years, visiting her mother and living in a motel instead of somewhere more permanent. we aren’t exactly sure whether this is down to choice or not (it’s implied not), but either way, it’s an example of the same thing.

if this isn’t by choice (which again i do believe), it’s also a clear example of the fact that the cycle of poverty is near impossible to break, even after such unusual circumstances that have presumably changed everything in her life. there is no escape.

nat’s relationship with her personal life is, in my opinion, a strong depiction of this struggle.

lottie’s upbringing

as is made abundantly clear from pretty much the beginning, lottie grew up super wealthy. as in, uber-wealthy. although some of the yellowjackets share similar childhoods in terms of financial status (nat and van, shauna and taissa, jackie and lottie in many ways), lottie’s is considered almost “unbeatable”.

we see this in lots of ways, too - she has maids, a massive house, expensive clothes, private jets. when she needs psychiatric help, it is offered to her immediately and in the most extreme ways. she even spends 15 years in a facility in switzerland because keeping her somewhere ‘average’ is seemingly not enough for her parents.

lottie is also neglected heavily by her father and somewhat by her mother too. she is supposedly raised mostly by nannies and when she is interacting with her parents they aren’t focussed on her wellbeing, only their safety. but there isn’t the same kind of social stigma surrounding this, and it’s made relatively clear.

amongst the upper upper class, being able to neglect your child is essentially admirable. the fact her parents are able to afford full-time childcare is a stereotypical bragging point for the rich, as these services aren’t cheap and the way in which they care for lottie (the quality of the service) isn’t either. she recieves top healthcare and is on full-time schizophrenia medication, which isn’t cheap either. these things sound positive from the outside, but it means she is left lonely.

lottie also doesn’t have the same relationship with her childhood as nat does. she isn’t positive about it, but she doesn’t seem to think about it much at all, instead focussing more on their time on the wilderness. although this is obviously painful in it’s own ways, it does highlight a privilege that the upper class, and lottie, are able to benefit from a lot. although her childhood was lonely, it wasn’t nearly as traumatic.

this is in part due to the fact that she was still technically being cared for, and in part due to the fact that people were celebrating her regardless. lottie’s relation to classism is obviously harder to pinpoint, because she’s not so much on the receiving end, but it does very much link in. (and link to my next point!)

relationships with the group (pre-crash)

lottie isn’t the ‘popular girl’ that people make her out to be. she’s no jackie, not even a shauna. but she’s not a nat, either.

lottie, despite being equally shy, and an equal balance of kind, argumentative and funny, is respected amongst the girls even before the crash. but nat isn’t. where lottie is wearing fluffy jumpers, pink plaid skirts and bunches, nat is wearing leather jackets, red plaid skirts and a bleached ‘mullet’. the two exist in a very similar way, both keeping to themselves socially but still interacting sometimes - it’s just that those interactions are totally different.

people laugh at lottie’s jokes, they trust her, they thank her for what she does for them. at the same time, nat is outcasted. people make up rumours about nat - supposedly because they don’t know much about her, but they know equally little about lottie and don’t do the same to her.

if nat was the one with a psychiatric disorder like schizophrenia, she would almost definitely be being consistently harassed and hatecrimed, but lottie’s family are able to bury it and even if that information did come out, the jealousy of her wealth would still override the ableism - not completely, obviously, but a considerable amount.

general speaking, people like lottie and don’t like nat, because the preconceived notions they have about each of them are so different, and weigh so heavily in lottie’s favour, regardless of who they each actually are.

this isn’t pre-crash, but even in the adult timeline they are still forced into these roles. lottie has enough inheritence and social power to start camp green pine, where she serves as the ‘leader’, and nat is forced to live either in a motel or on lottie’s property- literally until she dies there. it’s a subtle metaphor, and it can also be explained in many different ways, but if you look for it it’s almost always there.

relationships with the group (post-crash)

lottie and nat both go into the wilderness with just as much ambition behind their respective beliefs. if we exclude 2:08 and 2:09 (for the sake of making a fair argument for the bulk of the show so far, i’ll come back to them), nat is as strongly committed to her rationalism and survivalist instinct as lottie is to her supernatural beliefs.

the wilderness cult and lottie’s role in it have very little to no backing, and the few bits they do have can be explained by trauma, chance or other circumstances. nat’s beliefs are rooted in their life at home and her determination to allow them to survive. she has brought them the bulk of their food, water and safety. she has survived without the cult, which is something the others do not believe possible.

the others don’t listen to nat because they have never listened to nat. because it’s easier for them to ignore her ideas and not have to face a. their inner prejudice and b. reality. nat commits to reality because that’s what she’s always had to do to survive. growing up in an abusive household and in an impoverished area, she knows how to use firearms. how to ration and take matters into her own hands when there isn’t food on the table. how to defend herself and others from danger and arguments when there simply isn’t the time or capacity for it.

nat has infinitely more survival knowledge than lottie, but they don’t listen to her, because they don’t want to accept that that’s true. there are so many examples of this kind of discrimination happening against minorities and struggling communities for literally forever, and it’s such an integral part of the yellowjackets narrative and billions of real-life stories, too.

silencing the working class subconsciously because of the beliefs you hold internally is ‘textbook’ classism !!!

regardless of whether or not the girls are aware of lottie’s psychological condition (which i have to imagine at least some of them are aware of, at least by the time they are rescued and she’s immediately sent to hospital), there is little reason for them to believe in her aside from desperation.

now, obviously there’s other ways to explain every single one of these points. that’s the entire purpose of the show. if i wanted, i could write something like this for some kind of prejudice between most of the characters. that’s the whole point, is that it’s up to interpretation! but i personally think that in a world so heavily affected by classism, amongst a group of teenagers from across the classes, and focussing on the way this system of life ages with you despite other circumstances, it feels so important to me at least that it’s highlighted, and especially because it’s done so well whether it’s intentional or not.

i also think it adds so many interesting layers to each of them! i could also talk about each of the characters’ childhoods and societal upbringing individually for literally days so let me know if you’re curious! sorry this is so long! but yes basically, i believe the reason the group believes in lottie and resents nat for her opposing beliefs is classism. xx

[snakeunderyourboot]

we should talk about malevolent but soulmates au, especially in the context of Jarthur

Imagine the situation when your soulmate is not only some eldritch being BUT ALSO someone you have to share a body with. Also, it could be both romantic and platonic

like....there are many different versions of how soulmates work. There could be soulmate marks, or being colorblind and only seeing color when you met your soulmate, the timer that runs out when you see your soulmate, the first phrase they are going to say to you, some tatoo, or even just a name etc etc. All of those are potentially interesting, ESSPECIALLY if we apply them to jarthur

Soulmate marks, where Arthur left pinkie has a darker color. Or his eyes are. Or all parts that John would later come to possess have darker color. OR Arthur has weird scars that no human has ever seen before and could not be explained by any human logic. It is almost like they are divine in nature.

Seeing color when you first meet your soulmate, where Arthur has never in his life seen color. He has no idea what John means when he says that something is yellow, because what the fuck yellow even means. Sure, he knows that the sun is yellow or dandelions are yellow, but he doesn't understand. He would probably think that John is able to see colors because he is outwordly being so he doesn't apply by the same rules mortals do. And if it is true, what if John being able to see color is his proof that he is human, that he is no longer God. Or if it is NOT true and gods do have soulmates, what if Kayne or King in Yellow mention something about it?

Would Yellow see color? Would he see it with Larson? Would he see it later in Dreamlands, whenever he is?

The timer that runs out when you meet your soulmate, what if Arthur's timer is all fucked up, with strange symbols, that are always changing? And what if the second he picked up the book his timer abruptly stopped on zero? What if John later asks what the strange line of zeroes means and Arthur wouldn't know what to even say to that. What if in Addison his timer is back again to being all fucked up and Larson notices it and recognizes some of the symbols? What if after he has Yellow, his timer is also all fucked up?

The first phrase your soulmate is going to say to you, where Arthur doesn't have "Don't you remember?" INSTEAD he has "Arthur? Arthur!" because that is the first thing JOHN tells him after a coma? I just think it would be neat if the prase is from John when he is John, and not the Entity. You know what, we can even play it out to episode 43, where Arthur has tattooed the first words John says to him when he is resurrected. ORRR what if it's the first words John says after he has his own body?

In the same way, John doesn't have the soulmate mark until they are in the hospital or in the witch's lair? Or what if it is different, what if the words tattoed on your skin are the words your soulmate says when they realize they love you. Would then Arthur's words be "I suppose so" (when he talks to the King in Yellow in s2 finale) while John has "Because I care about him?"(from s4 finale)?? What if he only understands what the words mean when they are confronting the Witch?

This is actually my favorite variant because THERE IS SO MUCH that could be said.

A tattoo where again Arthur's tattoo is all fucked up, some weird sign that he knows nothing about. He starts looking, finds some mentions of eldritch gods, and decides that NOPE he is out of here. And then he meets John?

Or even just a regular name, where life is so much more complicated for Arthur. I would say homosexuality would be acceptable much earlier in human history if soulmates were a thing, but I would say he still would have a hard time with it. John is one of the most common names, but the problem is also that the name "John Doe" is literally given to people who are not identified. Can you imagine how long Arthur needs to search for his soulmate? And then in the hospital when John asks to be called by John and Arthur is just head in hands??

And you could say even MORE I just listed the most popular and the ones that come first to my mind. We should talk about malevolent soulmates au because this is an entirely new level that is so interesting to talk about

EDIT: also I did not mention Arthur relationship with love BUT we could play it out too. Arthur could be completely ignorant of the soulmarks. Or he could think that soulmarks mean only romantic love. Or both of these or neither or something completely different!