#Must-Read Biographies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aryadelvich · 28 days ago

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I’m into submission - Luigi Mangione x reader

Luigi is your roommate.

Yeah I stole the phrase from Pedro Pascal but it was too much to not use it 😫😫

From this request

If you’re looking for more of my work here’s an Updated Masterlist

You were sitting on the bed, exhausted. Carrying all your things back to your dorm room alone had been quite the task. Your roommate still wasn’t there. You took the opportunity to observe his belongings. You already knew his name was Luigi, that he was studying computer engineering, and that he was very popular. Everyone had nothing but praise for him. That he was kind, generous, always checking in on people, thoughtful, helpful… almost like a superhero.

You didn’t believe it. In fact, your view of men wasn’t the most positive. A guy that perfect? It seemed almost impossible to you. You had already judged him before even meeting him, wondering what flaws he might be hiding.

And now, here you were, stepping into his personal space. Everything looked neat. He had a lot of books. You scanned the titles—mostly personal development books. When you spotted one about Elon Musk, you rolled your eyes, letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, you heard the door open. You immediately straightened up, pretending as if you hadn’t been snooping.

You didn’t know what he looked like, but you already knew it was him. The first thing you noticed was his presence—his charisma—and his curls.

" You must be Yn. Nice to meet you, I’m Luigi."

"Nice to meet you."

"I see you’ve already checked out my personal library."

"Oh, that… I was just looking. I admit, I was trying to figure you out a little."

Luigi smirked as he set his bag down on his bed.

"And? What’s your verdict?" he asked, crossing his arms, clearly curious.

You shrugged slightly, feigning indifference.

"Hm… Lots of personal development books, a copy of Elon Musk’s biography… Pretty cliché, if you ask me."

He chuckled, not offended in the slightest.

"Ah, so you’re one of those people who roll their eyes the second they hear his name."

"Let’s just say I have a problem with the way certain men are idolized."

Luigi nodded, as if he understood your perspective. He didn’t seem offended or defensive, which surprised you a little.

"Interesting. And what about you? What do you read?" he asked, sitting down on his bed, eyes glinting with curiosity.

You hesitated for a second before answering.

"Mostly novels, fiction. I like stories that make you think."

He smiled.

"Then you should recommend me a book. Maybe you’ll change my taste in reading."

You eyed him suspiciously. He was way too comfortable, way too charming.

"Mmh, I don’t recommend books to strangers. I don’t share my knowledge with just anyone. Maybe you don’t deserve it."

"Well, we’ll get to know each other eventually. We are sharing a room. Anyway, welcome."

You narrowed your eyes slightly, watching his expression for any sign of irritation or frustration. But Luigi just smiled, still as relaxed as ever.

"Are you always this mysterious? Or is this just a test to see if I’m worthy of your trust?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"A bit of both."

He chuckled, leaning back against his bed.

"I like it. It’s refreshing. Usually, people warm up to me right away."

"So pretentious."

His amused gaze almost irritated you. He was too at ease, too self-assured, like nothing could shake him. But at the same time, he didn’t come off as arrogant, just… natural.

A silence settled between you. You glanced at your scattered belongings. Luigi followed your gaze before sitting up.

"Need help unpacking?"

"I already did the hardest part."

"That’s not an answer."

You raised an eyebrow, hesitating. Should you accept his help? He was your roommate, after all. Maybe it was better to start off on good terms…

"Fine. But don’t think that means I want to be friend with you."

Luigi smirked as he moved closer.

"I understand. I’ll have to earn that privilege."

A few months passed, and there was nothing particular to say about Luigi. He never caused any problems, and you were grateful every day that he wasn’t one of those emotionally clueless guys. It was true, he was different, but that didn’t mean you were going to start singing his praises.

University life felt like high school when it really shouldn’t have. You avoided unnecessary interactions, preferring to keep your circle small. But there was a group of girls you absolutely adored. They were kind, and you clicked with them instantly.

As for the guys… Well, plenty had tried to flirt with you, and you had turned every single one down. You had no interest in dating, no time for it, and, more importantly, you simply didn’t want to. Some guys took it well, others didn’t. Sometimes you explained yourself, other times you just said no and walked away.

Then one day, walking down the hallway after your last class, you passed by Luigi and his group of friends. Nothing unusual—until you heard them talking about you.

You instinctively slowed down, eavesdropping without even realizing it.

"Seriously, she’s unbearable. Who does she think she is, rejecting everyone like that?"

"She acts all cold and untouchable, but I bet she’s just putting on a show."

"Yeah, and she’s not even that special… I don’t get why so many guys even try."

You stopped dead in your tracks.

"Interesting," you said coldly, turning to face them.

Everyone went silent. Some lowered their gazes, caught red-handed. But one guy, bolder than the rest, just shrugged with a smirk.

"Honestly, if she rejects every guy, maybe she’s a lesbian."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You crossed your arms.

"Wow. Brilliant analysis. So, according to you, a woman who doesn’t want to date every random guy who talks to her must be a lesbian?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting you to call him out.

"Let me give you a reality check," you continued, stepping closer. "I don’t care about gender or sexuality. I date people who are actually worth it. And trust me, none of you is qualified."

A tense silence followed. Some of his friends exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or stay quiet.

Then, finally, Luigi spoke up, his voice sharper than usual.

"Enough. Knock it off."

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Luigi cut him off.

"She’s right. What she does is none of your business, and honestly, you sound pathetic talking about her like this."

Another guy rolled his eyes.

"Relax, man. We were just joking."

"Yeah? Well, it wasn’t funny."

His tone was firm, and for the first time, you saw something different in his expression—contained anger.

One of the guys sighed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, we’ll stop."

Luigi turned to you. You held his gaze, still wary.

"You could have spoken up earlier," you told him, not bothering to hide your irritation.

He nodded, as if accepting the criticism.

"You’re right."

And somehow, that answer surprised you more than anything else.

"Stopping isn’t enough," you added. "I want apologies. And a promise to do better."

One by one, they all apologized, Luigi being the first.

That night, back in your room, you knew he was going to bring it up again.

"Why do you hate men so much?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I don’t hate men. I hate bullies. And it just so happens that most of the time, bullies are men. But I know women aren’t saints either."

"If you keep dismissing all men, they’ll never want to improve for you."

"Maybe I just don’t care. Why is everyone so obsessed with being in a relationship?"

He sighed. "That’s fair. Misogyny is deeply ingrained in our society. It’s just that…"

"Luigi, you went to an all-boys high school. A few months ago, you were still living in a fraternity. You’ve mostly been surrounded by men your entire life. Maybe you should start listening to more female perspectives."

"I already do. I have my mom and two older sisters."

"That’s a good start. Keep going."

Luigi watched you, as if processing your words. Then, he smiled slightly.

"This is the first time you’ve encouraged me. I should mark the date."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smirk tugged at your lips.

"Don’t get used to it.”

Few days later•••

You’re sprawled on your bed, the dorm room dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Your laptop hums faintly, abandoned on the desk, as your fingers trail lazily down your body. The fabric of your shirt bunches under your touch, and you tug it up, letting the cool air kiss your skin. You’re supposed to be alone. Luigi’s out with his friends—he’s always out with his friends.

Your hand slips lower, fingertips brushing against the waistband of your sweatpants. It had been so long. Months, maybe longer. You didn’t keep track. But tonight, well, tonight you were alone, and your body had other ideas. You’re not even thinking about him, not really. Your mind is a haze of tension and release, the kind of self-indulgence you’ve perfected over the years. Your breath hitched as your fingers found their mark, a low moan escaping your lips. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. The tension building in your core was almost unbearable, and you were so close, so close, when—

“Oh! Shit, I’m so sorry!”

You freeze, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Luigi?”

He’s standing there, his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway, his hand gripping the doorknob like he’s been struck by lightning. His hazel eyes widen, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Your heart was pounding, not just from the shock but from the mortification of being caught mid… well, that.

“I—I’m so sorry,” he stammers, his voice low and tight. He wrenches his gaze away, turning his head so sharply you can see the flush creeping up his neck. “I thought you were out. I-I’ll go.”

He’s out the door before you can even react, slamming it shut behind him. You’re left sitting there, your pulse racing, your skin burning with embarrassment. You yank your shirt down, your mind racing. What the hell just happened?

For a moment, you consider pretending it didn’t. You could just let it go, let the awkwardness settle into the silence between you. But something gnaws at you—something you can’t quite name. You grab your sweatshirt, tugging it on as you swing your legs off the bed. You yank open the door, and there he is, standing in the hallway, his back to you, his shoulders tense.

“Luigi,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

He turns, his face still flushed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’m really sorry,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—I should’ve knocked. I just… I didn’t think.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You were supposed to be out,” you say, your tone accusatory.

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, the football game has been cancelled due to the storm”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Just… come in,” you say, stepping aside.

He hesitates, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you snap, though your voice softens slightly. “Just… come in.”

He steps past you, his shoulders hunched, his movements stiff. You close the door behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the silence. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker. You sit back down on the edge of your bed, and he hovers awkwardly near his desk, his hands fidgeting.

“I’m really sorry,” he says again, his voice breaking the silence.

“Stop apologizing,” you say, though there’s no bite to it. “It’s… whatever.”

He nods, but the tension doesn’t ease. You can feel it, crackling between you like static. You hate this—hate the way it’s making you feel, hate the way he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for you to explode.

“Look,” you say, your voice quieter now. “It’s… it’s fine. Just… forget it happened.”

He nods again, but he doesn’t move. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to find the right words.

“I get it,” he said gently. “It’s… natural. Everyone does it.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “What, you’re not going to make some dumb joke or something?”

“I just… I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice tentative.

“Didn’t know what?” you ask, your brow furrowing.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking to yours before dropping back to the floor. “I didn’t know you… I mean, I thought you were… independent. That you didn’t need… that.”

Your cheeks flush, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. “What, you think I’m some kind of robot or something?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, his hands up in surrender. “I just… I thought you didn’t want… physical stuff. Relationships. All that.”

“I don’t,” you say sharply. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have needs.”

He chuckled, a soft, warm sound that eased some of the tension in the room. “I’m not here to make you feel worse.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours. “I just… I hate that you’re embarrassed. You shouldn’t be.”

You frowned, surprised by his sincerity. “Well, it’s not exactly something I want people walking in on.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, his tone still gentle. “But… if it helps, I’m not judging you. Not at all.”

You looked away, your cheeks still warm. “Thanks, I guess.”

The silence returned, less heavy this time, but still lingering. Then, to your surprise, Luigi sat down on the edge of his bed, keeping a respectful distance. “Can I ask you something?” he said after a moment.

You glanced at him, wary. “What?”

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Do you… do you ever just… want someone to help you with that?”

Your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat. “What?”

He held up his hands, his expression sincere. “I’m not trying to be weird or anything. I just… you’re always so independent, so strong. You don’t ask for help, and you don’t seem to need anyone.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “But… it’s okay to want that. To need that. Even if it’s just physical.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Is he seriously offering what I think he’s offering? “Luigi, what are you saying?”

He met your gaze, his expression open and honest. “I’m saying… if you want, I could help you. No strings, no awkwardness. Just… two people enjoying each other.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t been with anyone in… well, a long time. And Luigi… he was kind, considerate, and undeniably attractive. But this… this was different. This was your friend.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because you deserve to feel good. And… because I want to.”

You looked away, your mind spinning. This was insane. But… the idea was tempting. Luigi wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t pushy, wasn’t selfish. And he was right—you didn’t need anyone. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want. This is Luigi—the guy who practically radiates decency, the guy who’s never even looked at you that way. And yet, here he is, offering… this.

“No strings?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“No strings,” he promises, his voice steady. “No awkwardness. Just… pleasure.”

You don’t know what possesses you to nod. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you. Maybe it’s the way his voice makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way the tension in the room feels like it’s about to snap.

But you nod.

He steps closer, his hands tentative as he reaches for you. You don’t pull away. You don’t even breathe. His fingertips brush against your cheek, soft and hesitant.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak.

His hand slides down to your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the way his body seems to radiate heat as he leans in.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his lips so close you can almost feel them.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

His lips were almost on yours, the heat of his breath mingling with your own, when you placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. “No kisses,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “That makes it… too much.”

Luigi paused, his hazel eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Got it,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “No kisses. Just… this.” His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, began to move again, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as his fingers traced patterns over your skin.

He didn’t rush. Instead, he took his time, exploring every inch of you with a kind of reverence that made your breath catch. His touch was deliberate, unhurried, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every dip, every reaction he could draw from you. His fingers trailed up your sides, brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath your arms, and you couldn’t help but shiver, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

His hands moved lower, skimming over the waistband of your underwear before slipping beneath, his fingertips grazing the heat between your legs. You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as he teased you, his fingers circling without pressure, drawing out every ounce of anticipation.

“Luigi…” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His name felt heavy on your tongue, laden with a desire you hadn’t realized you were capable of.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your skin. Not a kiss, but something just as intimate. His fingers pressed harder now, slipping between your folds, and you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. He moved with a confidence that surprised you, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he knew exactly what you needed.

He didn’t say much, but the way he looked at you—focused, intent, as if your pleasure was the only thing that mattered—spoke volumes. His fingers worked in slow, deliberate circles, building the tension inside you until it was almost unbearable. Your hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of him, more of this, and he responded with a low, approving hum.

“You feel incredible,” he said, his voice rough with desire. His fingers curled inside you, and you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over you. He was relentless, his touch unyielding, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold on.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his free hand tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and uneven, and you could feel the strain in his voice as he fought to keep himself in check. “Let go, Yn. Just let go.”

And you did. Your body convulsed, pleasure erupting through you in waves that left you breathless and trembling. Luigi held you through it, his arms strong and steady, his touch unrelenting until the last shudder had passed. When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you, his expression soft, almost tender, despite the intensity of the moment.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.

You nodded, still too breathless to speak, and he smiled, a small, satisfied smile that made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t say anything more, just leaned in, his breath mingling with yours as you both caught your breath.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you again, his touch firm and insistent as he guided you to lie back on the bed. You didn’t protest, couldn’t protest, not when every nerve in your body was still alight with pleasure. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shudder, and you could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against you, the evidence of his own desire hard against your thigh.

He leaned down, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower, until they found your nipple. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his curly hair as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand slid down your stomach, stopping just above where you needed him most.

“Luigi…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your hands gripping his arms as he moved over you, his touch setting your skin on fire.

He was giving you control, leaving the next move entirely up to you. Your heart thrummed in your chest, the heat from his body still lingering on your skin.

You glanced down at him, his chest rising and falling steadily, his hazel eyes watching you with a mix of curiosity and desire. Without saying a word, you shifted, pulling your hand from his and sitting up. The sheets pooled around your waist as you straddled him, his warmth pressing against your thighs. His breath hitched, his hands instinctively moving to your hips, steadying you.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice low but firm. You needed to hear it from him, needed to know he was as ready as you were.

“You’re so good” he murmured, his gaze intense. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your hips, a silent assurance.

You nodded, your lips curling into a small, confident smile. This was your moment. You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. Slowly, you shifted your hips, positioning yourself over him. His breath came out in a sharp exhale as you lowered yourself onto him, inch by inch, until you were fully seated, his length buried deep inside you.

“God, Yn,” Luigi groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow. His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping them gently as if to anchor himself.

You stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. Then, with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move. His hands tightened on your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut as you took control, setting a steady rhythm that had both of you gasping.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, your breath mingling with his. “You feel so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort of keeping your rhythm steady.

“You’re… incredible,” he managed to reply, his voice strained. His hands slid up to your waist, guiding you as you rocked against him, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.

You froze for a moment, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Luigi, stop talking,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

He blinked, his rhythm faltering for a second. “What? I’m just—“

“I said stop,” you interrupted, your tone firm. “This isn’t some romantic moment. It’s sex. Just sex. So shut up and let’s keep it that way.”

Luigi’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small nod, his hands tightening on your hips as he resumed his pace. But you weren’t satisfied with that. You wanted control. You wanted to set the tone.

You felt him twitch as you adjusted your position, leaning over him with a look of determination.

“You’re so good baby.” He whispered, already forgetting what you commended him.

“Don’t talk,” you said again, your voice softer now but no less commanding.

“But I ca-“ he protested.

“Shut up or I will make you.” You warned.

“But how ?” He questioned, surprised by your boldness.

“Like this.” You press your hand over his lips to make him quiet.

Through your palm, his muffled voice came out, slightly strained. "Oh, I see."

As he cooperates you take back your hand. His hands moved to your thighs, his touch warm and steady, but he stayed silent, letting you take the lead.

You began to move, shifting your hips slowly at first, testing the angle. His cock pressed deeper inside you, and you let out a soft moan, your head tipping back slightly. The sensation was intense, and you could feel every inch of him as you started to bounce, setting your own pace.

Luigi’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he watched you with wide eyes. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he kept quiet, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you moved on top of him.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside you, the way your body responded to every thrust. Your pace quickened, your hips meeting his with a rhythm that was hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans.

“That’s it,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “Right there. Just like that.”

Luigi’s hands slid up to your hips, his touch guiding but not controlling. He let you set the pace, his body responding to every movement you made. His cock throbbed inside you, and you could feel him getting closer, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to hold back.

But you didn’t want him to hold back. You wanted this to be about you, about your pleasure. And as you bounced on him, your clit rubbed against his pelvis, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You could feel it building, that familiar tension coiling in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every thrust. Your breath quickened, your movements becoming more erratic as you edged closer to the brink.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you dare stop.”

His hands gripped your hips tighter, his body responding to your every movement as you rode him with abandon. You could feel him twitching inside you, his breathing ragged as he struggled to keep quiet.

And then it happened—the tension snapped, and you came with a cry, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your hips moved on their own, riding out the orgasm as Luigi’s cock throbbed inside you, pushing you closer to the edge with every pulse.

You collapsed forward, your hands braced on his chest as you caught your breath. Your body was still pulsing with pleasure, and you could feel him inside you, hard and unyielding.

His breath still heavy as he held onto you. His hands moved to your back, his touch gentle as he held you close, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the only sounds your heavy breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as your bodies shifted ever so slightly. Luigi stayed still, his hands resting on your lower back, warm and grounding. You could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and for a moment, it was almost… comforting.

You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about how his arms felt like they belonged around you, how his breath against your neck made something deep and restless in you settle. This wasn’t about comfort. This wasn’t about connection. This was about pleasure. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

But then you looked up, your eyes meeting his, and you saw it. A flicker of something raw, something unfiltered. Vulnerability. Why? You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want to feel it. It made something twist in your chest, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

You broke the gaze first, turning your head to the side, your cheek resting against his shoulder. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel it. You told yourself, over and over. But your hands, traitorous things, stayed on his chest, fingers tracing the faint lines of muscle beneath his skin.

“Stay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Why did you say that? You didn’t want him to stay. You didn’t want him to linger. You wanted him to leave, to give you space to breathe, to think. Luigi amused said : “ I have no where else to go.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and you felt the faint press of his lips against the top of your head. It was such a small gesture, so tender, so intimate, and it made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

You closed your eyes, trying to block it out, trying to focus on the physical, on the here and now. But your body betrayed you again, your hips shifting ever so slightly, grinding against him. A soft, involuntary sound slipped out, and you felt Luigi’s hands tighten on your back. “Yn” he murmured, his voice low and rough. You didn’t want to hear the way his voice made your chest tighten, made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the physical.

Luigi’s hands began to move, one sliding down to grip your hip, the other trailing up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded, rocking against him, your breath hitching as you felt his body against yours.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, and you felt Luigi’s lips curl into a smile against your hair. You wanted to be mad at him for that, for the way he seemed to see through you, but you couldn’t. Not when your body was lighting up in ways you hadn’t felt in forever.

You wanted to stay in that moment, in that space where nothing else mattered, where you could pretend, just for a little while, that this wasn’t just about sex. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You pulled away, sliding off of him, your body feeling cold and empty without him inside you. You didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him, not with the way your chest was aching, not with the way your hands were trembling.

As you lay there, the room still wrapped in the quiet aftermath of the night, you turned your head toward Luigi. His curls were slightly messy, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable. You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of what had just happened.

“Oh my god this is so embarrassing," you muttered, pulling the sheet a little closer around you.

Luigi, who had been staring at the ceiling, turned his gaze to you. A faint smirk played at the corner of his lips.

"Embarrassing?" he repeated, as if testing the word.

You nodded, avoiding his eyes.

"I haven’t been with anyone in a long time," you admitted, your voice quieter now. "Because I didn’t want to. But then… you."

There was a beat of silence before he responded.

"Yeah… but it happened. And it was so good. We made things clear.”

His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, without any hint of regret or awkwardness. It irritated you a little. How could he be so at ease?

"You’re not even a little uncomfortable?" you asked, frowning.

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair before propping himself up on one elbow to look at you properly.

"Not even a little, I liked that.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You weren’t sure what answer you were expecting from him. Maybe you just wanted him to acknowledge that this changed things. That it made everything more… complicated. Luigi tilted his head slightly, watching you.

"You regret it?"

"No," you admitted. "I feel like I… lost the habit to do things like this."

Luigi stayed silent for a moment, then turned fully onto his side to face you. His expression softened.

"You don’t have to pretend anything," he said simply. "There’s nothing to prove."

You let out a small breath, one you didn’t even realize you were holding.

"But still," you murmured, "I feel like I wasn’t… I don’t know, good enough?"

Luigi’s brows furrowed.

"Good enough for who? Me?" He shook his head slightly. "This wasn’t some kind of test, you know. It was just us, doing what we felt like doing. That’s enough."

You finally looked at him, and the sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten.

"You're overthinking it," he added, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Relax. You're fine. We're fine."

And somehow, those words eased something in you that you hadn’t even realized was tense.

He nodded slowly, as if letting your words settle in.

"But I don’t want you to think it was some kind of mistake."

That caught you off guard.

You turned your head to face him fully. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t teasing. Just looking at you with that same steady expression, like he meant every word.

And somehow, that made it even harder to breathe.

“No, I liked it, I promise. One of the best nights I’ve ever had” You admit.

A comforting smile appeared in his face.

“Me too, it was good. Except the part where I didn’t had the right to speak.” He joked.

“Luigi I had to. You were making things too romantic… But sorry if you didn’t liked it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No I like it, I promise. Actually…” he hesitated for a second. “I have to admit… I might be a little into submission.”

You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "That explains a lot."

As you pulled your pajamas back on, Luigi did the same, the air between you still heavy with everything that had just happened.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his curls before glancing at you. There was something in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even longing.

You had made one rule: no kissing.

But when he looked at you like that, you hesitated. Just for a second.

Without a word, you leaned in, pressing a single, brief kiss against his lips. It was soft, fleeting, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

When you pulled away, he let out a quiet breath, as if he had been holding it the whole time.

You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket over yourself. He was still looking at you, waiting.

"So… what do we do now?" he asked.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment before shifting closer to him.

"Just cuddle. We’ll think about it tomorrow."

A small smile ghosted his lips before he slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, familiar, and for now, that was enough.

#luigi my beloved #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione request #luigi #luigi mangione college #luigi mangione smut #lulu

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walkingstackofbooks · 5 months ago

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12-year-old Julian Bashir reading a biography of Spock and suddenly realising why he's so different from everyone else. His superior intellect, speed, strength, reflexes? Clearly, he's half-Vulcan!

Because if Spock could be half-human, but have green blood and pointed ears and look totally Vulcan, then surely it follows that there could be half-Vulcans who looked totally human! Just like Julian...

This revelation is quickly followed by the awful realisation that his mother must have had an affair, which Julian really is not prepared too think about.

(Does his father know?)

(Is that why he hates him?)

(If his father doesn't know, then God, Julian can't imagine how horrific it would be if he ever found out...)

So Julian pretends he's never realised. Doesn't ask about it. Pretends he's fully human as much as he possibly can, and tries not to think about it - all the while letting the idea become more and more firmly entrenched. And by the time he's in a position to check if it were true, the idea of checking never occurs to him, because years of confirmation bias have assured him that yeah, he's definitely half-Vulcan, and he just considers it a fact that he will never share with anyone for as long as his parents are around.

(@a-most-beloved-fool - your fic idea for Julian-doesn't-know was rotating in my brain (it's so goood), until my thoughts went down this rabbit hole... All the credit to you for getting me pondering!)

#Julian Bashir #Andi writes #Julian AU concept #wsb

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baisemains · 25 days ago

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Elements of Desire

Chapter 3: Dinner for Four

single mom!sevika x fem!reader

word count: 7.5k

warnings: alcohol mention, weed mention, slight language, the slightest suggestive themes, really just fluff!

description: an unexpected invitation leads to an eye opening night.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next

Over the next few days, you and Sevika start emailing back and forth about the competition, eventually graduating to text when she finds the slip of paper you left your number on.

That lasts for less than a day when one night, Sevika asks if you can call her because “she likes to talk on the phone like a normal person.”

You chuckle a bit at her age showing but you agree and a couple of minutes later, your phone starts vibrating.

Picking up the call, you hear a gentle hey.

You immediately notice how much her voice changes over the phone, the rasp from the few times you've talked to her in person replaced by a much softer, lower tone.

She must be tired.

Sevika continues your earlier conversation about the science fair, and it makes you smile to hear just how invested she is in Powder succeeding.

A lot of parents you deal with couldn’t care less about their child's education and you’re glad that isn’t the case here.

You speak cordially with each other, covering lots of possible topics that Powder could work on and the girl in question occasionally chimes in with her ideas, Sevika having put her phone on speaker as she cooks dinner.

Eventually, she tells you it’s time for them to eat but she’ll call you back when they’re done, and you agree before hanging up and heading to the kitchen to have your own dinner.

You’re heating up your leftovers in the microwave when you hear your roommate walk in and you turn around to greet her.

She’s on her phone as she passes you, only raising her free hand in a quick greeting before she plops down on the couch, still texting.

The microwave finally beeps so you grab your food and sit down next to her, grabbing the TV remote and putting on the reality show you watch together.

You’re almost done with your meal and the episode when your phone starts to buzz on the coffee table in front of you.

Leaning forward and seeing Sevika’s name, you look at your roommate apologetically.

“I have to take this, it’s about the science fair.”

“Ooh, hot mom’s calling?”

Your friend laughs and you give her a playful elbow to the side before answering.

“Stop, we have a lot of work to do before the first deadline.”

She smirks, not even looking at you as she changes the channel.

“If you say so.”

You put the phone to your ear and get up to put your plate in the dishwasher, greeting Sevika as your roommate yells after you.

“Don’t take too long, we still have another episode and the reunion!”

Yelling back over your shoulder as you cover your phone with your hand, “I won’t!”

Putting your phone back to your ear, you can hear Sevika chuckling and the sound alone has you fighting back a smile.

“Sorry about that, we’re a couple episodes behind on our show.”

You hear the gentle clinking of ice in a glass and a small gulp as you wait for Sevika’s reply.

“We can finish this another time if you’re busy, I don’t wanna interrupt.”

Walking into your room and sitting on your bed, you start to shake your head before you remember she can’t see you and verbalize your answer.

“No no, it’s fine, those housewives can wait.”

This time, you hear an inhale and subsequent exhale and wonder what it is she’s smoking.

A cigarette? A cigar? A joint?

“Housewives, huh? Didn’t take you for a reality TV junkie.”

You slide a hand over your forehead, unsure of how to take Sevika’s tone.

“Yeah…sometimes it’s nice to watch other people’s problems for once, you know? Just check out of my brain for a little.”

She hums in response.

“I can understand that. I like to read biographies for the same reason. Makes me realize I’m not the only person in the world going through something.”

This is really the first time Sevika’s volunteered information about herself and your ears perk up instantly.

“Oh really? What are you reading right now?”

Sevika realizes you’re not on the original topic of why she called but it’s getting late and it’s been a long week so her defenses aren’t as high as they usually are.

Deciding that she feels comfortable telling you, she takes another sip of her drink and answers your question.

“It’s about a man who applied to this big law firm over 20 times and was never accepted, but he met his wife when he came into their office and she was a secretary there. She ended up passing from cancer 10 or so years ago and her dying wish was for him to write the book he always talked about, so he did. But the entire thing is really just a love letter to her and how much he misses her.”

You don’t even realize how intently you’re listening to her talk until she’s done.

“Wow, that’s…so sad.”

Sevika takes another drag and exhales deeply before answering.

“In a way. But he talks about how lucky he feels to have had her in his life for so long and how he’d rather spend every day grieving her than live a life never having met her.”

You’re unsure how to respond to such a heavy statement, registering her almost longing tone.

Sevika continues when you don’t immediately say anything, not letting herself think about the fact that she’s rambling to her daughter’s teacher who she barely knows.

She tells you more anecdotes from the book, about the man and his wife, and you listen to every word.

So focused on the story and reminiscing, she doesn’t catch herself until she’s finished and you finally speak.

“That sounds beautiful.”

Your response jolts her back to reality and she awkwardly clears her throat.

“Sorry, that was a lot.”

“No, oh my gosh, it sounds like a really good book. I might have to check it out sometime.”

That gets a genuine smile from Sevika and she replies before she can think about it.

“You can borrow my copy if you want, I’m almost done with it.”

Realizing what she said, she squeezes her eyes shut and leans back in her chair, hoping she didn’t sound eager.

Or “thirsty”, as Vi and Powder would say.

Little does she know, you’re on the other end of the line grinning like a fool, trying to keep it out of your voice.

“That sounds great. I look forward to it.”

Choosing to ignore the fact that she basically explained the entire book, a small smile adorns Sevika’s face and she lets out a small sigh of relief.

“I can send it with Powder on Monday if that works for you.”

Smile dropping slightly, you don’t know why you thought she’d hand deliver it when her daughter is literally in your class but you try not to let the disappointment seep into your reply.

“Yeah! Monday, that works.”

Sevika is about to reply when you hear a door slide open and Powder’s voice in the background.

“Are you coming in soon? You said we could watch a movie when you were off the phone and Isha’s starting to fall asleep.”

Sevika’s eyes widen, surprised at the amount of time that’s gone by since the beginning of the call and she looks at the clock on her phone.

It’s been over an hour?

Her head drops, partly in embarrassment at being caught by her daughter and partly because she’s sad her conversation with you has come to an end.

Huffing slightly, she rubs her face with her free hand and nods at Powder.

“Alright, let me finish up here and I’ll be in in a couple minutes, baby.”

She turns her attention back to you, her normal stoic tone returning, and your heart skips against your chest without your permission, upset that it’s time for your goodbyes.

“I uh…I gotta go. The girls are waiting on me for movie night.”

You have a sudden urge to try and keep her on the line but you quickly squash it.

Knowing it’s ridiculous to think that just because Sevika is having a nice conversation with you, she’d want to stay on the phone over spending time with her daughters.

You take a breath and give her a smile, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, of course. Say hi to them for me.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You hang up the phone, leaning back against your pillows as you bring your hands up to your face and groan.

That conversation did not help your situation.

After you hang up, Sevika runs a hand through her hair, annoyed at herself for not even considering the amount of time that had passed while talking with you.

Getting up and walking into the living room, she sees Powder sitting upside down on the couch and Isha in her usual spot, curled up on a pillow with the TV waiting to be played.

“Sorry, girls, I lost track of time.”

Sevika sits down on the couch, hitting play on the movie as Powder sits up and glances over at her.

“Who were you talking to?”

Sevika looks over at her daughter and answers her honestly, never one to lie to her girls.

“Your chemistry teacher, we were going over some stuff for your project.”

Okay, maybe a half lie.

Powder nods, accepting that response easily and turning to watch the movie.

Sevika tries to pay attention but she keeps getting distracted by the memory of your voice through the phone, wondering if you always sounded so soft or if she was the exception to that.

That weekend passes quickly, neither of you reaching out as you were both extremely busy with your lives and Monday morning rolls around sooner than you expected.

You’re at your desk, getting ready for the day when you hear footsteps walking in.

Not bothering to look up, you greet your early bird like you do every class.

“Good morning Ekko.”

“Um, it’s Powder actually.”

You pause your typing and turn your head to look at her, not anticipating her to be the first one to arrive.

“Hey Powder, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

She smiles softly at you and reaches into her bag, looking for something.

“My mom wanted me to give you this?”

Pulling out the biography you were talking about a few days before, she hands it to you and you have to stop yourself from smiling.

She remembered.

“Oh yeah, she mentioned this was a good read and offered to let me borrow her copy. Thanks.”

You take the book and look back at your student, a hint of a smirk on your lips.

“I heard she’s quite the bookworm.”

Powder laughs at your comment and nods her head, her hair bouncing adorably.

“Yeah, she has a library in her room. Just shelves and shelves of books.”

You tilt your head in thought, picturing Sevika surrounded by books everywhere.

It’s not an unwelcome visual.

Powder continues standing in front of your desk, telling you more random tidbits about her family; how they have movie nights every Friday, that she has an older sister in college, how Sevika loves to cook and the girls try to help but she always shoos them out of the kitchen.

You soak it all up, pleasantly surprised that Powder feels comfortable telling you so much information.

She’s just getting to the topic of their favorite snacks when Ekko enters the room, interrupting Powder’s rant, and he says a quick hello before sitting down at his seat.

You smile at him and wave as you turn back to Powder, who suddenly remembers where she is and stutters out a quick “I better get to my seat.”

Letting out a small laugh, you watch her walk over to her station and sit down next to Ekko.

They’re not trying to tear each other’s heads off like they used to, but they’ve settled into this awkward agreement where they don’t speak unless it’s necessary.

You’d be worried if they didn’t get their work done, but this silent partnership is working in their favor so you leave it alone for the moment.

The next few weeks are a blur, finals are approaching and so is the first submission deadline for the science fair.

You and Sevika are back to communicating often, she lets Powder stay after school most days to work on her project, always picking her up with a homemade meal or dessert for you to take home.

The first time she does it, you almost drop the Tupperware container, frozen at the realization that she cooked with you in mind.

After she sees the grateful look on your face, and how you text her your thanks that night, she makes it a point to have something for you after every session.

Another Friday rolls around and during class, you text Sevika and ask if it’s okay for Powder to take home her science project so she can work on it over break.

“If you can’t, no worries, I can move some stuff around and take it home with me.”

She responds a few minutes later with a voice note – she says they’re faster than texting – and the message makes you swoon.

“No she can bring it here, I have a couple projects in the garage but I’ll make room.”

Between what she says and the metallic noises in the background, the image of Sevika in her element springs into your mind.

The way she would look bent over the hood of a car, her oil covered muscles flexing as she tightens a screw, her hand wiping sweat from her brow—

You jump back in your chair, phone still in hand and a couple students in your front row look at you in confusion.

Giving them a tight smile, you quickly send her an “Ok” to Sevika and put your phone in your desk drawer.

Sevika quirks an eyebrow at your unusually blunt message, normally you reply with an exclamation point or an emoji or something.

Once she gets off work, she heads home and sets up the garage for Powder’s project, moving her own stuff and setting up a mini workstation in a corner with a tarp down.

The garage definitely looks like it belongs to a mechanic, she’ll say that.

Getting a message from you that Powder’s project was ready to be picked up, she hops in her truck and heads over to the school, parking in the back by your classroom.

Sevika calls you when she arrives, and you quickly answer to let her know you’re on your way to open the back door for her.

Hearing a creak, she looks over and sees your smiling face, a similar one blooming on hers.

“Hey.”

You wave her inside as you respond gently.

“Hi.”

The two of you stand in front of each other for a couple seconds before Sevika coughs into her fist, breaking the trance that you were both in.

“Lead the way, miss.”

Sevika holds the door open and gestures for you to walk in first, and you have to look down to hide your giggle from her.

You notice how she always calls you that when you’re on school grounds, but you definitely don’t mind it, even finding it sweet.

Walking into your classroom, you go over to Powder and help her grab the boxes that her project was divided into.

You’re headed for the biggest ones when Sevika rests a hand on the small of your back and walks past you.

“Let me grab those.”

All you can do is watch as Sevika grabs the heaviest two, throwing one on top of her shoulder and settling the other against her hip.

She turns around to face you and Powder as she nods her head towards the door.

“Gonna toss these in the truck, be right back.”

“Not toss! Gently place.”

Powder makes sure to clarify, and Sevika laughs as she kisses the top of her head on her way out.

“My bad, gently place.”

You wistfully watch Sevika leave the room, seeing her easily lift those boxes and then be so gentle with her daughter in the span of 30 seconds makes you feel things you didn’t know were possible.

Shaking yourself from your daze, you grab one of the smaller boxes and Powder grabs the last as the two of you head out to the back door into the parking lot.

You see Sevika walking towards you two when she looks up and stops in her tracks.

“What are you guys doing? I said I could grab the last boxes.”

An answer slips out before you can think about it.

“We didn’t want you making two trips.”

Sevika’s mouth opens to reply when you gesture at your classroom with a nod.

“It’s not that far, plus we’re just strong like that.”

You instantly regret your choice of words as she quickly looks you up and down with an assessing eye.

“I guess you are.”

A shiver threatens to run up your spine but you’re somehow able to contain yourself. Mostly.

Thankfully Sevika doesn’t acknowledge your reaction as she reaches out to place her hand on Powder’s shoulder.

“Look how strong my baby is.”

Powder rolls her eyes in embarrassment and shrugs her off.

“Mommm!”

Sevika throws her hands up in surrender and laughs, very well aware of her teenager’s antics.

“All right, I get it. You’re too cool for me now.”

She walks over to her truck and opens the back door, grabbing the box from Powder and sliding it in before turning to you.

You lift the box towards Sevika at the same time she reaches for it, and her hands basically engulf yours as she takes it from you.

The feel of your hands together renders you speechless, your breath feeling a little short in your chest.

You think you see a hitch in her face as well but before you can look any longer, she’s already facing the truck, her broad back blocking your view.

Snapping yourself out of it, you watch her carefully load the last box in, moving it around until she’s satisfied that it’s as safe as possible.

The door is shut with finality, Sevika facing you again as she shoves her gloved hands in her pockets.

Her trusty leather jacket covering her, the slight fall breeze blowing her short hair out of her face, it’s all too much and you have to look away before you start staring.

She breaks the silence before you can say your goodbyes.

“I didn’t bring you anything today, my apologies.”

You face her again to respond, but she narrows her eyes to let you know she’s not done and you close your mouth immediately.

“But as a thank you for helping Powder these past few weeks, we’d love to invite you over for dinner tonight. My cooking tastes much better fresh, I promise.”

That’s not at all what you expected her to say, and Sevika takes your delayed response as rejection.

“Only if you’re free of course, it’s short notice and a Friday night, so you probably have plans—“

“I’d love to!”

Interjecting before she can take back her invitation, you smile at her, and then Powder, who’s absolutely beaming at you.

Sevika’s relief is immediate and she clears her throat, doing everything in her power not to look too eager.

“Great! We should be done in a little over an hour, I can send you the address and you can come over when you’re ready. Does that work for you?”

You nod your head gently, just enough time to go home and spruce up.

“That’s perfect. I’m gonna head back inside and grab my stuff and I’ll see you in a bit!”

Sevika gives you a small smile, and you could’ve sworn the look lingered slightly before she got in her truck and left, Powder waving from the window.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out as you walked back to your classroom, a sudden anxiety ran through you.

You were having dinner with Sevika.

And her daughters.

At her house.

It was both exciting and terrifying.

It was the first time you would see the inside of her home, which is such an intimate thing, inviting someone into your personal space.

Catching yourself starting to freak out, you take a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself.

You gather your things as quickly as you can and head home, silently hoping no one is there so you don’t have to explain where you’re going.

When you arrive, you’re met with an eerily silent house and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Kicking off your shoes, you bee-line for your room, checking yourself out in the full length mirror and deciding if you should change or not.

You decide against it, you don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard but you do grab a thicker jacket, thinking of the chill coming later.

Your phone buzzes and you see the text preview from Sevika with an address listed.

Suddenly, you remember something that makes you pause on your way out of your room.

What the hell do I bring……

You start pacing back and forth, trying to think of something that says you’re grateful for the invitation but not overstepping your bounds.

Flowers? A bottle of wine? Some kind of dessert?

Remembering a comment Powder made a couple of weeks ago, you quickly reapply your favorite body spray before grabbing your keys and setting off to the store.

After grabbing what you need, you arrive at Sevika’s house and give yourself one last look in your rearview mirror, checking for any imperfections.

You realize how ridiculous you’re being and try to snap yourself out of it.

“Relax. This isn’t a date, it’s a friendly dinner with your student’s family, nothing else. Just be calm.”

Shaking your head, you grab your items from the passenger seat and get out of the car, wrapping your coat a little tighter around yourself as you walk up the driveway.

Your hand is just about to press the doorbell when the door swings open and a waving Isha reveals herself.

Smiling at her, you ask her where Sevika is, and she points inside.

Before you can say anything else, a voice rings out, and a figure emerges from around the corner right after.

“Isha, I told you about— Oh.”

Sevika enters your line of sight as she approaches the front door and you have to stifle a giggle.

She’s wearing a black apron that says “Kiss The Cook” in bold white letters with a red lipstick mark replacing the dot over the I, over a plain white tee that’s surprisingly spotless.

As you take in the rest of her look, you see something you don’t remember noticing before.

Her left arm is completely made of metal. A prosthetic.

Realizing you’ve never seen her without a long sleeve or jacket and gloves, it clicks and you feel your mouth open slightly before shutting it, deciding that it’s none of your business.

Your gaze roams back up to her face, seeing her smile decorated with that adorable gap as she motions you inside.

“Please, come in, it’s freezing out there.”

You cross the threshold, taking off your shoes, and Sevika reaches behind you to close the door and lock it.

“Glad you could make it, I was starting to worry.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, I had to stop on my way to grab these.”

You grab the items from under your arm and raise them for her to see.

A bag of cherry sours and a bottle of whiskey.

Laughing out loud, Sevika covers her mouth in recognition.

She mentioned that those were the girls’ favorite candy but were hard to find and somehow you managed.

“Where did you find those? I looked everywhere!”

Smiling back at her, you let her in on your secret location.

“There’s this corner store by my place, it’s run by an older man and his daughter and they have a bunch of super hard to find candy, even ones that have been discontinued.”

Isha reminds you of her presence as she squeals next to you and looks up at Sevika with puppy eyes.

Sevika laughs at her youngest’s antics and glances back at you.

“What do you say, Isha?”

The little girl quickly signs thank you and you giggle, the look on her face completely worth it as you hand her the bag and she runs into the kitchen.

“None ‘til after dinner, I’m serious!”

Sevika yells after her, turning back to you as you lift the bottle in her direction.

“A little birdie told me this was your poison.”

Her eyes flicker up to yours, a glint of something you can’t quite place in them.

She looks back down at the bottle as she takes it in both of her hands, her mouth slightly open.

“Oh wow, thank you, you didn’t have to bring me anything…”

“Of course I did, I know better than to show up at someone’s house empty handed. Especially after all the food you’ve brought me, are you kidding? I’d never forgive myself.”

Sevika chuckles at that, looking down at your coat and gesturing towards it.

“Let me take that from you, it’s a lot warmer in here than it is out there.”

You start to slip it off yourself when you feel a warm hand reach under your collar and pull it off the rest of the way, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door.

Looking up at Sevika, she gives you a small smile and nods her head towards the kitchen.

“Come on, dinner’s just about ready.”

You follow her inside and the wonderful aroma you smelled earlier gets stronger, your eyes closing on instinct.

“It’s my mom’s recipe, hope you like Indian food.”

Opening your eyes, you smile at her, nodding your head.

“Sounds amazing.”

Sevika stands at the stove, serving the food into bowls as she yells over her shoulder for the girls to sit down, nodding at you too.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring the food right over.”

As you move towards the table, you hear a “Hi, teach!” and suddenly Powder is hugging your side.

“Hi Powder.”

You smile at the girl and squeeze her back as she lets you go and takes her seat at the table, Isha appearing and following right after.

You look at the two empty seats left and take the one that doesn’t face the kitchen, assuming that spot is Sevika’s.

Glancing around the room, you take it in for the first time.

It’s not huge, but it’s cozy. Pictures of their family adorn the walls here and there, you see Isha and Powder and another girl you don’t recognize, their various milestones growing up, and they look happy in every single one.

Looking next to the pictures, you notice a few medals and trophies, some with Powder’s name on it, those are science related, and there’s a few sports ones in there with another name.

Violet.

Sevika comes over soon after and sets bowls in front of everyone, sitting down in her spot, smiling at you.

“Alright guys, let me know how it tastes, I haven’t made this in a while.”

The girls immediately start eating, giving their comments and compliments about the food.

Grabbing your spoon, you dig in too and the second the flavors hit your tongue, you hum in pleasure.

“Sevika, this is delicious!”

She has the audacity to look bashful, lowering her eyes for a second before raising them to meet yours as a gentle smile graces her face.

“You like it?”

“I love it, you were right about your cooking tasting better fresh.”

She laughs, and Powder starts telling you all about how her classes went that week.

Eventually, Isha joins the conversation and starts telling you about her best friend at school and you smile, laughing at her stories.

You don’t see Sevika’s eye on you as you talk enthusiastically with her daughters, but you feel her gaze the entire time.

Chiming in occasionally, she mostly just watches how easy the conversation flows, like you’ve known them for ages, and she starts to feel a warmth spread through her chest.

Once you’re all done eating, Powder starts clearing the table and you walk over to the sink with her and start pulling up your sleeves.

Whispering to her so a certain someone can’t hear you, you ask her a question.

“Where do you guys keep your dish soap?”

Before Powder can answer, a voice rings out behind you and the two of you spin around like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“What are you guys– Are you doing the dishes?”

Sevika looks at you in shock and starts walking over, shooing Powder out of the kitchen and eventually standing in front of you, arms crossed.

“Guests don’t do chores in my house.”

You look at her with a sheepish smile, nodding your head as you rub your neck.

“Right, I just thought I’d try and help out, you cooked and the girls are handling the table so I felt like I should do something…”

Sevika cracks a smile and lets out a short laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, that’s what the dishwasher is for.”

From the living room, you hear shocked gasps.

“I thought you said it didn’t work! That we could only use it as a drying rack!”

Powder looks confused, and Isha is right next to her with a shocked expression.

“I don’t let you girls use it because the first time Vi tried, she added too much soap and flooded the kitchen. Plus, too much technology makes you lazy, a little elbow grease goes a long way.”

Chuckling, she turns back to the sink and loads the dishes into the dishwasher.

The girls groan and go back to quietly complaining to each other while you face Sevika and glance up at the clock on her kitchen wall.

“So…I should probably head out soon, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome. Dinner was wonderful though, thank you so much for inviting me.”

Sevika pauses as she closes the dishwasher and stands back up, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you could make it.”

She glances out into the living room, seeing that the girls are distracted with finding a movie to watch.

Turning back to you, she chews on her lower lip, knowing that she’d rather you not leave, but isn’t going to ask you to stay.

“The girls really enjoyed themselves, I haven’t seen them talk that much to someone who wasn’t family…maybe ever, actually.”

Not holding back the grin adorning your face, you nod and glance over at them.

“It’s easy to get along with them, they’re amazing kids.”

You look back at Sevika, locking eyes with her and letting yourself get lost in them.

“You’re doing a great job.”

Sevika’s heart skips a beat and she gives you a soft smile.

“Thanks, I….yeah, I hope I am.”

The fact that you said that to her, something she’s insecure about, the thought of her failing at being a parent always floating in the back of her mind, means a lot.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts when you begin pushing yourself off the counter, signaling that it really is time to go.

A tiny frown appears on her face, but she tries to cover it as she moves to walk you to the door.

When you reach the doorway, Sevika passes you your coat as she yells over her shoulder.

“Come say bye, girls!”

Powder immediately jumps up from her place in the living room and runs over, sliding the rest of the way in her socks when she reaches you.

“Wait, you’re leaving already?”

Isha walks over with a curious look on her face, eyes bouncing between you and Sevika.

They finally land on you and she signs, you’re not going to stay for movie night?

Your heart squeezes at the fact that she wants to include you in their family tradition, and you glance up at Sevika, mouth slightly open.

“Um, I’m—“

Powder cuts you off before you can get anything else out.

“Please stay, we were gonna watch that movie you told me about in class yesterday!”

Sevika’s lips are pursed together, trying to hold back a smile as she looks at her girls.

“Hey, if she needs to leave, don’t try to guilt her into staying, come on.”

Eyes bouncing between the three of them, you let out a small smile.

“I don’t mind staying, if it’s okay with you, Sevika.”

She lets out the grin she was holding back and nods her head gently, silently thanking her daughters.

“That’s fine with me.”

The girls cheer and Isha grabs your hand, leading you into the living room, to the couch and sitting next to you.

Powder grabs their snacks, including the cherry sours you brought, and puts them in a bowl on the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor in front of the couch.

You hear some shuffling in the kitchen and look over to see Sevika tidying up before walking over and sitting down on the other side of Isha.

Realizing the little girl is the only barrier between you two, you clear your throat and shift in your seat, suddenly nervous.

Sevika’s eyes are immediately drawn to you, catching the movement and she realizes you’re trying to keep your distance.

Her attention is quickly stolen though as Powder turns on the movie and Isha makes herself comfortable, crossing her legs and leaning into you.

The opening credits start playing and Sevika relaxes in her spot, trying to keep her focus on the screen. It’s hard to though, knowing you’re this close.

Eventually, she feels the need to move and leans back into the couch as her right arm stretches along the top of it, flexing her fingers when they lightly bump into something.

You snap your gaze in the direction of whatever just touched your head, seeing an embarrassed Sevika looking at you.

She mouths a sorry and you giggle, responding with an it’s okay and turn your head back towards the TV, covering your mouth to hide your smile.

Sevika is relieved when you’re quick to reassure her, she was worried that you wouldn’t take the contact as the innocent mistake that it was.

Hearing you giggle makes her heart flutter and it helps in calming her down, a smile appearing on her face.

You end up making it through the rest of the movie without incident and it’s almost midnight when Sevika turns to the girls, ending credits rolling on the screen.

“Okay guys, it’s time to head to bed.”

Groaning, Powder sits up and looks at her mom with puppy dog eyes.

“Aww, but we wanted to watch another movie…”

Isha yawns and rubs her eyes, only proving her mom’s point.

Sevika tilts her head at her daughter, quirking an eyebrow.

“That was the deal babe, we have plans tomorrow, remember?”

“Fiiiiine.”

Powder throws herself back onto the ground for dramatic effect, making her mom laugh.

“You’ll live, come on.”

Sitting up again, Powder goes over and gives you a quick hug.

“Good night, teach.”

Then she plods over to her sister and pats her leg.

“C’mon Ish, you too.”

Isha stands up and signs goodnight to you, giving you a big hug that warms your heart.

Sevika rubs her back and motions to their rooms with her head, telling them to go on.

“I’ll be there in a bit to tuck you guys in.”

The girls round the corner and disappear down the hallway, leaving you to turn back to Sevika, leaning your head on your propped up fist.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you.

Sevika’s head is tilted back against the wall, eyes closed and hands rubbing her face, eventually interlocking and settling on top of her head.

Short hair framing her chiseled features, a soft expression replacing her usual stoic one.

Your eyes wander to the white tee stretching over her broad shoulders, her bicep lightly flexing.

Lowering your gaze, you see that her shirt has slightly ridden up and a hint of her lower stomach has exposed itself to you.

Doing a double take, you notice a trail of hair from her belly button that disappears into her waistband.

You quickly look back up to her face, afraid you’ve been caught.

Thankfully, Sevika is blissfully unaware, her eyes still shut as she mentally prepares herself to get the girls settled for bed.

You let out an internal sigh of relief and start thinking about how tonight went, how easy it felt talking to the girls and laughing with them.

Sevika opens her eyes once again and drops her hands into her lap, turning to find you already looking at her.

She suddenly feels self conscious, thinking that you’ve been studying her without her noticing, and her body stiffens.

Were you looking at her arm? Did it freak you out? She should’ve casually mentioned it before, or put a jacket on when she came to the door—

She clears her throat and looks down at her sleeve, picking at the cuff of her shirt.

Realizing that she’s uncomfortable, you let her know what you were thinking to ease her mind.

“Tonight was really fun, I’m glad I stayed. I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

Relaxing a bit, Sevika meets your eyes again.

“I’m happy to hear that, I’m sure the girls are too. They really like having you around.”

Looking at her sitting there, you’re once again struck by how beautiful she is, but also by how vulnerable she seems right now. A complete switch from the tough front she normally puts up.

She shifts to face you, bending one leg onto the couch as she lays her hands in her lap.

Your knees are now a hair away from touching, and you can feel the tension in the air.

Gazing into each other’s eyes for a couple more seconds, you open your mouth to say something when a buzzing in your pocket announces itself.

The bubble you two were in now broken, you mumble out an apology as you fish your phone out and see a text from your roommate.

Are you coming home tonight so I can put the top lock on?

Sighing, you shoot her a quick reply letting her know you’re on your way and look back up at Sevika, her gaze flicking from your phone to your face.

“Time to go?”

You nod and send a sad smile her way, standing up from the couch and stretching, having been sitting for a couple of hours straight.

Sevika stands up as well and follows you to the front door, watching as you grab your coat and move to put it on.

Suddenly, you feel her standing behind you, moving into your space to help slide it the rest of the way.

Her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the contact making your breath hitch for a second as her warmth seeps through the fabric.

Clearing her throat, she takes a step back and puts her hands in her back pockets.

“Let me know when you get home.”

Looking up at her, you see a faint hint of worry in her eyes.

You smile warmly at that, knowing it’s the mom in her but also at how cute her expression is.

“I will.”

Sevika lets out a breath that she was unconsciously holding, a small smile appearing on her face as she opens the door for you.

“Drive safe.”

“Will do.”

You take a step over the threshold and pause, unsure if you should hug her or just leave.

She seems to sense your hesitation and closes the distance between you, pulling you into a brief but firm hug.

Her scent envelopes you, bringing an inexplicable sense of comfort, and you start to lean into her before she gently pulls away.

She pats your arm before shoving her hands back in her pockets and clearing her throat.

“Night.”

You want to laugh at her sudden awkwardness but walk out instead, looking over your shoulder and lightly waving as she watches you the entire way to your car.

Not until you finish warming it up and drive off a couple minutes later does she finally close the door.

Slumping against it, Sevika takes a deep breath, groaning as she realizes how she reacted to the hug.

Shaking her head, she moves away from the door and walks towards the girls’ rooms, wanting to tuck them in so she can head to bed.

She knocks on Isha’s door and steps in, seeing her curled up on her side, already asleep.

Kissing her forehead, she closes the door to her room and walks into Powder’s, who’s on her phone watching a video.

“Time for bed.”

Powder looks up at her and nods, locking her phone and putting it on her nightstand.

“We should have her over again, that was fun.”

Sevika laughs softly and sits down on the edge of the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles in Powder’s comforter.

“Ok, kid.”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, she switches off the bedside lamp and walks to the door, grabbing the handle.

“Night, babe.”

“Night, mom.”

Sevika closes the door gently and heads to her room, yawning on the way.

Pieces of the evening flash through her mind as she goes through her nightly routine and she catches herself, suddenly getting worried.

What am I doing? It was just a friendly dinner.

Shaking her head, she tries to clear her thoughts of you as she climbs into bed, hoping she has a dreamless sleep.

When you arrive home, you make sure to fully lock the door as you kick off your shoes, the exhaustion finally creeping in.

You whip out your phone to let Sevika know you made it safely and she hearts the message immediately, causing you to smile.

Hearing noise coming from the living room, you walk in and see your roommates all there watching TV.

“There you are! We didn’t think you were gonna be out this late.”

You wave at them and walk over to the couch, plopping onto it as they look you up and down.

“Had a good night?”

Giggling, you nod and lean back into the couch, debating on how much to tell them.

“I had fun, yeah.”

One of your roommates raises an eyebrow at you, poking your leg.

“We need a little more than that. Spill, were you on a date or something?”

You smile at their prying and let out a short laugh.

“No, no, it was just a dinner thing.”

They share a look at your denial, not buying it.

“Mhm, sure it was. Just a dinner thing that lasted for…” one of them looks at the clock, “how many hours?”

You roll your eyes at her and poke her shoulder.

“It’s really not a big deal, we just watched a movie and hung out. The kids wanted me to stay longer.”

The room suddenly turns silent and you realize what you’ve said when everyone turns to look at you.

“What do you mean, ‘kids’? Where were you?”

Not able to lie your way out of this, you decide to just tell them where you were but omit any other details, knowing they’ll blow it out of proportion.

“Sevika’s…”

The second her name leaves your mouth, your roommates start squealing and cheering.

“Hello?! How the hell did that happen?!”

You try to hide your smile at their reactions, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“It wasn’t like that, she invited me over for dinner as a thank you for helping Powder with her project, and then her girls wanted me to stay for their movie night, so I did. No biggie.”

“What do you mean ‘no biggie’, you had a whole domestic ass night with them!”

At her words, you suddenly freeze, realizing that’s exactly what happened.

You spent the entire night practically as a member of Sevika’s family.

Seeing your reaction, your roommates try to diffuse the situation as gently as possible.

“I mean, um, it wasn’t really that domestic, like you said, it was just dinner and a movie, super casual.”

You nod your head, barely listening to what they’re saying, suddenly deciding that you need to be alone.

“Yeah…I’m gonna head to bed, I’m pretty tired from the day, see you guys tomorrow.”

As you get up from the couch, your roommates all quietly tell you good night, and you vaguely hear a light slap and an ow behind you.

Reaching your room, you close the door and stand there, thinking about your roommate’s words.

Did Sevika also think about tonight that way?

Sighing, you change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, ready for this day to be over.

You drag yourself into bed and climb under your covers, hoping sleep will overtake you as soon as possible, but one thought bounces around your head unrelentingly.

You have a crush.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#YAYYYYYY omg who else cheered #really really loved writing this one ngl the tensionnnn......#gonna try to post the next one as soon as i can! :)#thanks for reading <3 #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika imagine #sevika fluff #sevika angst #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane imagine #arcane fluff #arcane angst

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taradactyls · 19 days ago

Note

So I could be totally wrong but, I believe it was sort of expected that men/gentlemen lose their virginity before marriage in regency times. But I also there’s some fandom ‘debate’ about whether or not Mr Darcy would’ve had sex before getting married. So I was just curious about what your canon for Mr Darcy in T3W is. Is he a virgin or not?

I knew someone would ask me this eventually, haha. I've actually had really long conversations with my beta reader about this trying to figure it out. It sounds like this might all be stuff that you’ve already seen discussed in the fandom, but I’ve never thought about it deeply before and so these are new thoughts to me.

I keep going over the historical real-world likelihood, the authorial intent, and the text itself but I’m still not 100%. I’ll explain my thinking and what I find most likely, but here’s your warning that it’s not a clear cut yes/no.

Because on one hand, at that time period it was most common for men in his position to have seen sex workers or have casual encounters/mistresses with women from their estates. Though I do absolutely believe not all men did that, no matter how much wealth and power they had. To go back some centuries, William the Conqueror seemed to be famously celibate (no hints of male lovers either according to the biography I read) until his marriage, and there's no evidence of affairs after it either. The best guesses as to why are that it was due to his religious devotion and the problems that had arisen from himself being a bastard and not wanting to recreate that situation. Concerns over religion and illegitimate children would certainly still have been applicable in the regency to men who thought that way. And in modern times I've seen sex workers say that when an 18/21yo is booked in by his family/friends to 'become a man' often they end up just talking and agree to lie about the encounter. After all, it’s not like every man wants casual sex, even if they aren’t demisexual or something in that vein. But, statistically speaking, the precedent of regency gentlemen would make Darcy not a virgin.

On the other hand, just how aware was Jane Austen, the very religious daughter of a country rector, of the commonness of this? There’s a huge difference between knowing affairs and sex workers existed (and no one who had seen a Georgian newspaper could be blind to this) and realising that the majority of wealthy men saw sex workers at some point even if they condemned the more public and profligate affairs. The literature for young ladies at the time paints extramarital sex - including the lust of men outside of marriage - as pretty universally bad and dangerous. This message is seen from 'Pamela' and other gothic fiction to non-fiction conduct books which Jane Austen would have encountered. Here's something I found in 'Letters to a Young Lady' by the reverend John Bennett which I found particularly interesting as it's in direct conversation with other opinions of the era:

"A reformed rake makes the best husband." Does he? It would be very extraordinary, if he should. Besides, are you very certain, that you have power to reform him? It is a matter, that requires some deliberation. This reformation, if it is to be accomplished, must take place before marriage. Then if ever, is the period of your power. But how will you be assured that he is reformed? If he appears so, is he not insidiously concealing his vices, to gain your affections? And when he knows, they are secured, may he not, gradually, throw off the mask, and be dissipated, as before? Profligacy of this kind is seldom eradicated. It resembles some cutaneous disorders, which appear to be healed, and yet are, continually, making themselves visible by fresh eruptions. A man, who has carried on a criminal intercourse with immoral women is not to be trusted, His opinion of all females is an insult to their delicacy. His attachment is to sex alone, under particular modifications.

The definition of a rake is more than a man who has seen a sex worker once, it's about appearance and general conduct too, but again, would that distinction be made to young ladies? Because they seem to simply be continuously taught 'lust when unmarried is bad and beware men who you know engage in extramarital sex.' As a side note, Jane Austen certainly knew at least something about the mechanics of sex: her letters and literature she read alludes to it, and she grew up around farm animals in the countryside which is an education in itself.

We can also see from this exert that the school of thought seems to be 'reformed rake' vs 'never a rake' in contention for the title of best husband, there's no debate over whether a current rake is unsuitable for a young lady. And, from Willoughby to Wickham to Crawford, I think we have a very clear idea of Jane Austen's ideas of how likely it is notably promiscuous men can reform. This does not preclude the possibility that her disparaging commentary around their lust is based more on over-indulgence or the class of women they seduce, but it's undoubtedly a condemnation of such men directly in line with the first part of what John Bennett says so it's no stretch to believe she saw merit in the follow-on conclusions of the second part as well. Whether she would view it with enough merit to consider celibacy the only respectable option for unmarried men is a bit unclearer.

I did consider that perhaps Jane Austen consciously treated this as a grey area where she couldn’t possibly know what young men did (the same reasoning is why we never see the men in the dining room after the ladies retire, etc) and so didn't hold an opinion on men's extramarital encounters with sex workers/lower-class women at all, but I think there actually are enough hints in her works that this isn’t the case. Though, unsurprisingly, given the delicacy of the subject, there’s no direct mention of sex workers or gentlemen having casual lovers from among the lower-classes in her texts.

That also prevents us from definitively knowing whether she thought extramarital sex was so common, and as unremarkable, as most gentlemen treated it. But we do see from her commentary around the consequences of Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford's elopement that she had criticism of the double standards men and women were held to when violating sexual virtue. Another indication that she perhaps expected good men to be capable of waiting until marriage in the way that she very clearly believed women should. At the very least, a man who often indulges in extramarital sex does not seem to be one who would be considered highly by Jane Austen.

She makes a point of saying, in regards to not liking his wife, that Mr Bennet “was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.” This must include affairs, though cheating on a wife cannot be a 1:1 equivalent of single young men sleeping around before marriage. However, the latter is generally critically accepted to be one of the flaws that Darcy lays at Wickham’s door along with gambling when talking about their youth and his “vicious propensities" and "want of principle." Though this could be argued that it’s more the extent or publicity of it (but remembering that it couldn't be anything uncommon enough that it couldn't be hidden from Darcy Sr. or explained away) rather than the act itself, or maybe seductions instead of paying women offering those services. I also believe Persuasion mentioning Sunday travelling as proof of thoughtless/immoral activity supports the idea that Jane Austen might have been religious enough that she would never create a hero who had extramarital sex.

So, taken all together this would make Darcy potentially a virgin, or, since I couldn't find absolute evidence of her opinions, leave enough room that he isn’t but extramarital sex isn’t a regular (or perhaps recent) thing and he would never have had anything so established as a mistress.

I’ve also been wondering, if Darcy isn’t a virgin, who would he have slept with? I’ve been musing on arguments for and against each option for weeks at this point. No romantasy has ever made me think about a fictional man's sexual habits so much as the question of Darcy's sexual history. What is my life.

Sex workers are an obvious answer, and the visits wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows. Discretion was part of their job, it was a clean transaction with no further responsibilities towards them, and effective (and reusable, ew) condoms existed at this time so there was little risk of children and no ability to exactly determine the paternity even if there was an accident. It was a fairly ‘responsible’ choice if one wanted no strings attached. In opposition to this, syphilis was rampant at the time, and had been known to spread sexually for centuries. Sex workers were at greater risk of it than anyone else and so the more sensible and risk-averse someone is (and I think Mr Darcy would be careful) the less likely they would be to visit sex workers. Contracting something that was known as potentially deadly and capable of making a future wife infertile if it spread to her could make any intelligent and cautious man think twice.

Servants and tenants of the estate are another simple and common answer. Less risk of stds, it can be based on actual attraction more than money (though money might still change hands), and is a bit more intimate. But Wickham’s called wicked for something very similar, when he dallies (whether he only got to serious flirting, kissing, or sleeping with them I don’t think we can conclusively say) with the common women of Meryton: “his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family.” And it isn't as though Wickham had any personal duty towards those people beyond the claims of basic dignity. Darcy, who is shown to have such respect and understanding for his responsibilities towards the people of his estate and duties of a landlord, would keenly feel if any of his actions were leading his servants/tenants astray and down immoral paths. Servants, especially, were considered directly under the protection of the family whose house they worked in. I think it's undoubtable that Mrs Reynolds (whose was responsible for the wellbeing - both physically and spiritually - of the female servants) would not think so well of Mr Darcy if he had experimented with maids in his youth. It would reflect badly on her if a family entrusted their daughter to her care and she 'lost her virtue' under her watch. Daughters/widows of others living on the estate not under the roof of Pemberley House are a little more likely, but still, if he did have an affair with any of them I can only think it possible when he was much younger and did not feel his duties quite so strongly. Of course lots of real men didn't care about any of this, but Darcy is so far from being depicted as careless about his duties that the narrative makes a point of how exceptional his quality of care was. Frankly, it's undeniable that none of Jane Austen's heroes were flippant about their responsibilities towards those under their protection. I cannot serious entertain an interpretation that makes Darcy not, at his current age, at least, cognizant of the contemporary problems inherent in sleeping with servants or others on his estate.

A servant in a friend’s house would remove some of that personal responsibility, but transfer it to instead be leading his friend’s servants astray and in a manner which he is less able to know about if a child did result. That latter remains a problem even if we move the setting to his college, so not particularly likely for his character as we know it… though it wouldn’t be unusual for someone to be more unthinking and reckless in their teenage years than they are at twenty-eight so I don’t think having sex then can be ruled out. Kissing I can much more easily believe, especially when at Oxford or Cambridge, but every scenario of sleeping with a lower-class woman has some compelling arguments against it especially the closer we get to the time of the novel.

Men did of course also have affairs with women of ranks similar to their own, though given Jane Austen’s well-known feelings towards men who ‘ruined’ the virtue of young ladies we can safely say that Darcy never slept with an unwed middle- or upper-class woman. Any decent man would have married them out of duty if it got so far; but if he was the sort to let it get so far, I think it impossible Jane Austen would consider him respectable. Widows are a possibility, but again, the respectable thing to do would be to marry them. Perhaps a poorer merchant’s widow would be low enough that marriage is off the table but high enough that the ‘leading astray’ aspect loses its master-servant responsibilities (though the male-female ‘protect the gentler sex’ aspect remains) but his social circle didn’t facilitate meeting many ladies like that. Plus, an affair with a woman in society would remove many layers of privacy and anonymity that sex-workers and lower-class lovers provided by simply being unremarkable to the world at large. It carries a far greater risk of scandal and a heavier sense of immorality in the terms of respecting a woman’s purity which classism prevented from applying so heavily to lower-class women.

I think it’s important to note here that something that removes the need to think about duties of landlords towards the lower-classes or gentlemen towards gentlewomen is having affairs with other men of a similar rank. But, aside from the risk of scandal and what could be called the irresponsibility of engaging in illegal acts, it’s almost certain that Jane Austen would never have supported this. For a devout author in this era the way I’m calculating likelihoods makes it not even a possibility. But if you want to write a different fanfiction (and perhaps something like a break-up could explain why Darcy doesn’t seem to have any closer friend than someone whom he must have only met two or so years ago despite being in society for years before that) it does have that advantage over affairs with women of equal- and lower-classes. I support alternate interpretations entirely – it just isn’t how I’m deciding things in this instance.

I keep coming back to the conclusion that, at the very least, Darcy hasn’t had sex recently and it was never a common occurrence. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jane Austen felt he hadn’t done it ever. Kissing, as we can see from all the parlour games at the time, wasn’t viewed as harshly, so I think he’s likely made out with someone before. But in almost every situation it does seem that the responsible and religious thing to do (which Jane Austen values so highly) is for it to never have progressed to sex. I also don’t think it conflicts with his canon characterisation to say that he wouldn’t regard sexual experience as a crucial element of his life thus far, and his personality isn’t driven to pursue pleasure for himself, so it’s entirely possible that he would never go out of his way to seek it. So, I’m inclined to think that the authorial and textual evidence is in favour of Darcy being a virgin even if the real-world contemporary standard is the opposite. (Though both leave enough room for exceptions that I’m not going to argue with anyone who feels differently; and even if you agree with all my points, you might simply weight authorial intent/textual evidence/contemporary likelihoods differently than I do and come to a different conclusion).

Remember that even if Darcy is a virgin this wouldn’t necessarily equate to lack of knowledge, only experience. There were plenty of books and artwork focused on sex, and Darcy, studious man that he is, would no doubt pay attention to what knowledge his friends/male relatives shared. Though some of it (Looking especially at you, 'Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure') should NEVER be an example of appropriate practice for taking a woman's virginity. Darcy would almost certainly have been taught directly or learnt through exposure to other men talking to make sex good for a woman – it was a commonly held misconception (since Elizabethan England, I believe) that women had to orgasm to conceive. It would be in his interests as an empathetic husband, and head of a family, to know how to please his wife.

Basically, I’m convinced Darcy isn’t very experienced, if at all, and will be learning with Elizabeth. But he does have a lot of theoretical knowledge which he’s paid careful attention to and is eager to apply.

#sorry for how my writing jumps around from quoting sources to vaguely asserting things from the books I only write proper essays when forced #if anyone has evidence that Austen thought a sexually experienced husband was better/men needed sex/it's a crucial education for men/etc #PLEASE send it my way I'm so curious about this topic now #this is by no means an 'I trawled through every piece of evidence' post just stuff I know from studying the era and Austen and her work #so more info/evidence is always appreciated #I had sort of assumed the answer was 'not a virgin' when I first considered this months ago btw but the more I thought about it #the less I was able to find out when/where/who he would've slept with without running into some authorial/textual complication #so suddenly 'maybe a virgin' becomes increasingly likely #But the same logic would surely apply to ALL Austen's heroes... and Knightley is 38 which feels unrealistic #(though Emma doesn't have as much commentary on sex and was written when Austen was older so maybe she wasn't so idealistic about men then)#but authors do write unrealistic elements and it's entirely possible that *this* was something Austen thought a perfect guy would(n't) do #and if you've read my finances breakdowns you know I follow the text and authorial voice over real-world logic because it IS still fiction #no matter how deftly Austen set it in the real world and made realistic characters #pride and prejudice #jane austen #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #discourse #austen opinions #mine #asks #fic:t3w #I'm going to need a tag for 'beneath the surface' but 'bts' is already a pretty popular abbreviation haha #just 'fic: beneath' maybe?? idk

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guerillas-of-history · 2 months ago

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do you have any favorite manifestos/documentaries/biographies/etc you would be willing to share? ideally for someone relatively new to the topic but at this point i’d take anything. i feel like everything i’ve found boils down to “how to fight fascism with the power of friendship” and it’s genuinely making me feel a little insane

Yes, thank you for asking. These are some of my personal favorites that have both helped me and inspired me.

Our Word Is Our Weapon - Subcomandante Marcos

Ojibwa Warrior: Dennis Banks and the Rise of the American Indian Movement - Dennis Banks

The Thorn and the Carnation - Yahya Sinwar

A Dying Colonialism - Frantz Fanon

The Wretched of the Earth - Frantz Fanon

What is to Be Done? - Vladimir Lenin

The State and Revolution - Vladimir Lenin

The Communist Manifesto - Karl Marx and Friedrich Engles (if you haven't already)

Handbook of Revolutionary Warfare - Kwame Nkrumah

Foundations of Leninism - Joseph Stalin

Anarchism or Socialism? -Joseph Stalin

Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-tung - Mao Zedong & Hou Bo

The Autobiography of Malcolm X - Malcolm X and Alex Haley

Media Spectacle And The Crisis Of Democracy - Douglas Kellner

I much prefer reading but for documentaries or films I do recommend:

They Do Not Exist - Abu Ali Mustafa

Incident at Oglala: The Leonard Peltier Story

You Must Tell The World

These are just some of my favorites. I might be forgetting a few. I do intend to read a lot more, but working full time does drain a lot of my energy and focus 🙃. I hope some of these may prove useful to you, if you have any specific questions you can always feel free to ask. And if anyone else has any worthwhile recommendations, I highly welcome it.

#asks #thank you #highly recommended

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year ago

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𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗/𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 [Yandere Prince!Scaramouche/Reader]

A/n: After reading so many tyrant otome isekai manhwas, I thought I should give writing one a try... This story ended up being a bit more “real”(?) than OI. And I forgot the isekai part LOL. Love this fic a lot because the (L/n) family says the most banger lines. They spitting facts. Anyways, welcome to another throwaway-thursday, enjoy this one, @vennnnn-diagram because... lol.

Unreliable Synopsis: Exiled in Watatsumi island after publishing two anti-colonial novels outside their homeland, the famous reformist writer and physician (L/n) (Y/n) faces several familial deaths— and it all leads back to one man...

Content Warnings/Tags: Yandere themes, mentions of miscarriage (note: this is because this is very loosely based on a real life hero's biography), "lovers" to enemies, angst, character deaths, church corruption, politics, etc. Prioritize your mental health. The fic is meant to be a bit dark. You can listen to this song for the vibes 💖

"Are you going to Watatsumi Fair, Niwa?"

"Well, of course! The Lector works hard to make sure it's grander each year."

"Our Lector… I hope (L/n) is doing alright. It must be incredibly heartbreaking to lose a newborn son under three hours…"

"Indeed…"

It’s the 19th century and the streets chatter on about the upcoming festival. Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, and shiso— murmurs of food and spices exchanged at the Watatsumi Fair circulated. However, these four wonderful things wouldn't be there without a certain exile transforming the island into a thriving island: Lector (Y/n) (L/n).

Prince Kunikuzushi's most esteemed “rival”.

You were an exemplary philosopher and ophthalmologist who published two novels abroad that reflected Inazuma's social issues and military abuses. Of course, you were born in a noble clan. Only the wealthy can study outside Ritou and attain higher education beyond the basic arithmetic and religion Inazuman Colonizers gatekept your people with. You were slaves.

But these colonizers feared educated colonies would demand rights; hence, after publishing those eye-opening novels, you became Public Enemy #1. Charges against you were not absolved, but Inazumans could not execute you upon arrival. You were not a revolutionary, but a pacifist reformist. You made the government and clergy's behavior known worldwide, hence the military banished you to Watatsumi— another Inazuman colony and barren land.

Assured that you've done nothing wrong, you stayed in Watatsumi. With nothing but your firm beliefs, your days of exile were your most productive. Using your skills as a physician and some wits on land surveying, you've improved Watatsumi’s quality of life in under 6 months.

You're far from home with little spare change, yet you provided medicina gratis. With you, you’ve helped open the people’s eyes.

You lived under the scrutinizing eyes of the Queen, yet you erected streetlights in each dark street. With you, you’ve helped the people see in this dark age.

And most importantly, you have established Watatsumi's first school.

With you, the people understood the truth of their situation: they had been living under a tyrant’s rule for the past few decades.

And all you asked in return was for the people to help you in your ventures to improve the island's agriculture and spices.

How can the people of Watatsumi not love you for this martyrdom?

“(L/n) is organizing a secret rebellion association planning to overthrow the government”. That was the Queen’s grounds for exile, including false testimonial and documentary evidence. It was obvious that your books were in strong opposition to the current Inazuman Government.

Hence, Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko was incredibly fond of you.

"I still believe I am innocent of the crime of rebellion, illegal association, and sedition. All I did was publish two novels!" You hummed. "When the Shogun calls for my execution— and she will— do immediately ask for my body. They will likely throw it wherever they please. Worse, Kunikuzushi might use me as his doormat."

The Archbishop laughed. "I can see that. His Highness does fit that character."

You and Umiko sat far from the festivities. Sangonomiya Umiko was neither friend nor foe. She is the current leader of Watatsumi Island, but she is restricted by the commands of the Queen and her children. Umiko cannot even preach about her true faith, hiding her birthright as the Divine Priestess and instead donning the title foreign title of Archbishop. Even with friendly demeanors, there’s an unmistakable grim air on both your faces.

No passerby would mistake this meeting as a romantic date. You have a wonderful spouse waiting home, appearing as crest-fallen as you do now.

… But "Spouse" is a rather loose term. You and your partner were forbidden to have a wedding. Prince Kunikuzushi would not allow an exile to marry and no priest would disobey him. Hence, you and your lover decided to merely promise to the God you believe in that you'll remain loyal to one another. That faith and loyalty brought about a prematurely birthed child— who only had three hours to live until his breath was cruelly stripped away…

And historians would attribute your son’s death as a cause for your morbid obsession with your own future execution.

"Kunikuzushi is a personification of what's wrong with the Inazuman Empire," you said casually. "He will be the core of what causes the revolution, not I."

Umiko did not miss the way you addressed the Prince. You spoke without honorifics, an aspect in both Watatsumi and Inazuma's language that is evident in everyday conversations. Most revolutionists emphasize his high station with hatred. You emit those titles and call him by name.

As though it was a habit.

As though you were once friends and more.

"Lector (Y/n), do watch your tongue," she shook her head. "The walls have ears."

"And what if the walls have eyes and ears? They shall see and hear my innocence." You sipped your tea before you snapped your fingers with a grin. "Oh, and do me one last favor. When they'll let me face my executioners, armed with polished guns and a shoveled ground:"

"Only the guilty are shot in the back. Let me face the firing squad and spare my head so that I may die facing the heavens."

A glimpse of (h/c) hair ran past in the streets of Inazuma City, carrying a child in his arms. The child was injured but otherwise “fine”— as fine as children could be amidst the rains of ashy woods and turbulent fires. The city capital reeked of gunpowder and a nauseating metallic scent. The (h/c) haired man may not have any blood relations to the person whom they’re protecting, nor does he know her name, but he held onto the 8-year-old dearly.

Despite the chaos that surrounded him, your older brother cannot help but think of one hopeful thought:

With the recent loss of (Y/n)’s son, maybe they’d be willing to adopt this little girl as my new niece?

But all that ended abruptly when a loud voice resonated throughout the streets.

“DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THEM ESCAPE. NO SURVIVORS!”

Prince Kunikuzushi stood proud in the middle of it all. With calm finesse, he ordered the generals to order their soldiers to kill without a hint of remorse. His eyes were dull. All he knew was that his mother wished for the death of revolutionaries hiding in the capital. Whether these rumors were falsehoods or not, the Queen did not care. Fear is the family’s greatest weapon, bloodshed is nothing to them.

Death is nothing for a mother's puppet like him.

The Prince truly didn't have any care for this war. He's only following orders under the reward that he'll be able to have you. It was the Queen's promise, and she had always been relentless in any pursuit of honor and glory.

In return for his familial services, Queen Ei might consider his proposal. The royal family dreaded the death of their former matriarch, Makoto, and the prince showed no attraction to any of his valid consorts. Should he show loyalty to the end, the Queen will allow him to marry anyone to his liking.

That's why he's putting up with this.

He looked at the horizon, seeing nothing but fire instead of the deep ocean.

Why did Watatsumi have to be so far away?

Why did you have to be a sea away?

As fate would have it, a young soldier spotted the two. A hunt between two red-tagged innocent civilians and a greenhorn murderer commenced. Limping slightly, your brother attempted to push down restaurant chairs and other outside furniture in hopes he’d lose track of them.

The soldier did not know that the person he was tracking was your older brother.

Had he known, he would’ve left him alone.

And as much as fortune favors the bold, it was not on your sibling’s side.

The soldier fired his first reckless shot and hit its target.

Your brother stumbled, holding his stomach. He gasped, coughing as he subconsciously let the child go. But he did not fear for his life, but hers. He knew that the child was asleep on a park bench when the horns rang for danger. She was homeless with nothing but bedclothes and a short makeshift blanket, and now she’ll be forced to witness a traumatizing scene.

Poor child… You must be frightened…

I hope…

Your brother remains adamant that the child must live, even as the barrel of the enemy's rifle is pointed at his chest. A look of stern determination, mixed with fear, can be seen in his eyes as he stands his ground despite the threat of death.

That (Y/n) will raise you right…

“S-Scaramouche’s crown's resplendent band shows no natural light. The ocean's glimmer elucidates more hope than your vile scarlet battalions could ever hope for!!!” Your older brother yelled, weakly hiding the child behind him.

The soldier cocked the barrel against his forehead.

“There is no emprise to plundering, to murder and genocide—” he continued, coughing blood at the corner of his lips. “You will all be remembered in history as those who had foolishly paraded without genius. Death has a more ambrosial scent than a life of servitude under your heels.”

SHOT!!!

…

“M-Mister?... M-Mister?! MISTER!!!”

The child screamed as your brother fell to the ground. With the remaining humanity the young soldier clung to, he turned a blind eye towards the little one crying silvery tears. Truth be told, the new soldier himself had forgotten what it was he was fighting for. What was the point in this death, this pain, if not to harm both sides? But a good soldier does not question his orders and he leaves the child without a word.

She did not know his name. She did not know his status as a (L/n). She did not know he was the older brother of the famous physician (Y/n) (L/n). She did not know he was a martyr way before his true death.

But she still held his corpse with abandon. His body heat was slowly growing cold. Though her stature was short and small, her tears were heavier than her heart could manage.

(L/n)s may meet horrid ends, but Fate grants you all one last wish.

You all have the privilege of dying whilst facing the heavens, and that is the final honor your brother can carry with him in his passing.

“My dear, a letter arrived,” your spouse spoke. “It came from your mother…”

It was deep into the night and you had just fixed yourself up for bed, but you’re not one to turn down letters. Perhaps your old friend from Opera Epiclese had sent you a reply? Igniting the nearby lamp, you lovingly kissed their hand before taking the letter.

“Thank you, love,” you cooed. “I’ll surely be writing a letter back, so why don’t you rest before me? I shall accompany you later.”

Leaving them with a blush, you shut the door behind you. Despite the struggles in your relationship, your love for your gorgeous spouse will never disappear over the unplanned loss of your first child.

Unlike Kunikuzushi’s…

You entered the living room and closed the door behind you. A wise decision, given the contents that were about to crush the little mental stability you had left.

“My Dearest (Y/n), It is with a heavy heart and trembling hand that I take quill to convey news that no mother should ever have to write down. As I write these words, tears splotch the paper, and each stroke of the pen is a painful reminder of the sorrow that has befallen our clan. My dearest child, it grieves me beyond measure to inform you that your beloved older brother, (B/n), has departed from this world. The weight of this solemn news rests heavily upon my shoulders, and the burden is almost too much to bear. The tragedy unfolded in the heart of the capital, where (B/n), in an act of unparalleled heroics, sacrificed his own life to save that of a young girl during a merciless ambush. His valor shone through, but the cost is another pain you must bear after the death of your own child. Oh, my (Y/n), the pain is unbearable. I wish I could shield you from this heart-wrenching truth, but I believe in your resilience. The thought that you are in exile, far from my comforting embrace, only adds bitterness to my heart. The cruel hand of fate has robbed you of the chance to bid a final farewell to your dear brother, to stand beside his resting place and pay tribute to his funeral. The distance that separates Ritou and Watatsumi feels insurmountable, and I ache at the thought of your solitary grief. I hope your spouse shall accompany you in these troubled times. In these dark hours, know that you are not alone in grief. Though separated, we mourn the loss of a beloved son and brother, the heir of the (L/n) clan. May time and the tender embrace of cherished memories bring some measure of peace to your soul. With all the love a grieving heart can muster, Mother”

As the ink on your mother's heartbreaking letter crumpled with sorrow in your heavy trembling grip, a weighted silence filled the room. The words she penned— each a painful jab to your psyche— threatened to spill tears you've fought so desperately to hold back for weeks since you didn’t want your spouse to worry.

Before you can succumb to weeping on the floor with a contorted expression and writhing body, the door opens, disrupting your peace.

Prince Kunikuzushi, adorned with his mother’s feather and opulent regalia, strode into your humble abode with an irritating aura of entitlement. His presence, a stark contrast to the mourning atmosphere, successfully transformed your grief into weaponized spite.

"Still holding another Watatsumi Fair, are we?" he sneered, disdain dripping in every word. The callousness in his eyes and “indifference” to your mourning made the air all the more sharper.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” You spat out. “Had your clow— soldiers failed to entertain you?”

“They are nearly as boring as your spouse in bed.” He snarled. “And I wager that their lives last longer than they do.”

You bit your tongue. Your spouse had made an effort to teach you not to reply to any insult he had towards them, and you had done decently enough to honor their wishes by merely scowling at the royal instead of equipping any nearby blunt weapon.

“Allow me to ask again,” you forced yourself to be cordial. “What are you doing here, Kunikuzushi?”

The prince clicked his tongue.

“Do I not have the authority to visit you?”

“You do,” you said. “But you do not have the right to barge in as you please, much like how Lord Hiroshi shouldn’t have decided to conquer my homeland Ritou and decide to claim it as Inazuman property for your mother’s ever-so-eternal happiness.”

“He was only claiming what is rightfully ours.”

Prince Kunikuzushi looked over at your bedroom door. You took large steps forward, blocking his way. You won’t allow him to disturb your lover’s good night’s rest.

He frowned.

"You should have been mine," he muttered softly.

You hated this about Kunikuzushi the most. He speaks with audacity that knows no bounds as he criticizes your spouse, but would sound the most pure when addressing his own emotions. “You should’ve said yes. You should’ve ruled these nations with me, and more. But you threw it all away and for what? Fragile patriotism? You are defending an island that will suffer the same fate as your beloved Ritou.”

In the eye of this tempest, your mother’s burning words fuels a fire that burns brighter than any royal decree.

"You speak of love and marriages," you seethed, voice cutting through the tension, "but you know nothing of the bonds that truly matter."

…

As the realization dawns upon him, his arrogance wavered.

He had not realized early on that news about your brother’s death had reached you already.

"An accident," he stammered, attempting to deflect blame. "If I knew, I would have spared him in that ambush. I’m not an All-Knowing God, so it’s genuinely just an accident."

With a chilling calmness, you locked eyes with him. "That wasn't an accident— our previous affairs were an accident. What you've done was murder."

Your words hung in the air, leaving no room for denial.

“I love you,” the prince spoke in near-whisper. “You know better than anyone that I would never do anything to hurt you this bad. You know that I am the voice that called for your exile instead of execution. I never would’ve asked for his death.”

His claim was also true.

You knew you were the only person who he had fallen for his whole life. You knew because when you were studying abroad, you had strange chance encounters with him. You knew because he was mildly stalking you and would’ve for a long time had you not offered a seat in the library. You knew because he had been a difficult person to court, always bottling his own emotions and lashing out in retorts you had dubbed “adorable” at a time. You knew because he had told you himself years ago that…

"You are insufferable. And yet, I find myself inexplicably drawn to your company. It's horridly vexing. Your presence lingers in my thoughts long after you've departed, like an annoying insect. I must confess, despite my best efforts, I find myself rather fond of you too— ridiculously enough."

... But what you didn’t know during your studies in Fontaine was that Kunikuzushi was the son of the Queen you despised and wrote articles against in editorial jobs to earn not only spare cash but the enlightenment of your people back home. What you didn’t know was that the prince had been sent by his mother to monitor your actions.

What you did not know came to haunt you on your way back home.

So you rid yourself of these memories and cornered him into a wall, a hand just behind his head. The sound of your hand slamming made the intimidating prince flinch, and he trembled at the dullness of your eyes.

“And yet whose orders was it? Whose order was it to ensure there would be no survivors in that location? WHOSE WAS IT, KUNIKUZUSHI?! ANSWER ME!!!”

Your spouse called your name from the other room. “(Y/n), is everything alright?”

With their voice, your anger faded slightly, yet your breathing remains loud and manic. “I’m alright! Do not leave the room, dear!”

“Scaramouche” took that as an opportunity to digress.

“I saved you from death before. Do not forget that.” His face hardened. “In case you've forgotten, I'm no saint. Many people will want to seek me out and settle the grudges they've built against me, and what better way to avoid that than to route those future seeds of rebellion?”

The prince took your hand off the wall.

“Mother had enough, she sees no reason to hold back against those who rebel and she had filed an order to reopen your case. And if my blood and hers are the same, I guarantee you that she will only provide you with the worst defense attorney possible. You will surely receive the death sentence.”

He placed your hand on his chest, gripping it so desperately tight to the point of it hurting.

“So choose me,” Kunikuzushi mumbled. “Choose me, and save yourself. Do not follow your brother’s path. Choose me. I’m your only option.”

And heavens above, does he take delight in that.

You met his gaze with a resolute determination.

"I appreciate your offer," you replied, your voice steady, "but I refuse. My brother's legacy, as tarnished as it may be, deserves justice, and so do I."

A flicker of frustration passed across Kunikuzushi's face.

"You're being naive," he retorted, the desperation in his voice taking a sharper edge. "An arraignment is on its way. The military court will not deliver justice. It will devour you. I’m offering you a fucking lifeline, a chance to escape the inevitable."

“I won't tarnish my brother's memory by succumbing to the same shadows that claimed him."

Kunikuzushi's eyes, once filled with a glimmer of hope, darkened with frustration. "You're condemning yourself—" he argued, "—for an idealistic notion of justice that doesn't exist. You're a fool."

"Perhaps I am a fool," you admitted, "But I am a fool who is sure of their innocence. I am not a revolutionary, I only spoke and wrote of the truth. I will not compromise my integrity for the sake of expedience."

As you spoke, the defeat in Kunikuzushi's eyes began to settle.

"You're determined," he snarled. "So stubbornly determined to die!"

"Perhaps," you acknowledged, "Choosing you would be an escape, but it would also be a betrayal of everything I stand for. And I…"

You smiled.

“I love my spouse,” you said. “And the child we made that was taken from me all so suddenly. Hence, I do not need your love, Prince Scaramouche.”

Kunikuzushi tensed up.

Your child was baptized by the Inazuman priests.

And Inazuman priests serve the royal family and their constituents.

History’s eyes will speculate that Prince Kunikuzushi was the reason your child had died, that he had ordered your son's immediate poison upon birth.

And Kunikuzushi knows it to be true.

But you will never know that.

You will never know the full extent of what this man had taken from you.

With those words, you turned away from Kunikuzushi, leaving him and his offer behind. You opened the door and gestured for him to leave. Neither of you knew at the time that this would be the last night you’d spend in the comfort of your own home.

Before you knew it, you were writing your final farewells.

(Y/n) (L/n) was subjected by the military court on ████████ ██, ████ and was sentenced to death at six in the morning.

The people saw no justice for their hero, and your body was buried in Inazuma City. If it were not for all you and your clan had given, there would be no freedom in Watatsumi Island and Ritou. Had your brother not saved the young girl, she would not become the matriarch of the Yuna Clan, who led the first Navy in the revolution.

And had you not died in Inazuma City, there would be no Resistance.

But that was centuries ago.

Divine Priestess Sangonomiya Kokomi sat on her desk, examining previous preliminary investigations. She racked her brain over the testimonies of the seven members of the military court, the judge advocate, the defense counsel, and the prosecuting attorney. The prince was right when he stated the trial would not be fair for you were forced to employ a Lt. Arataki as your defense. It was a prejudged trial. Despite the obvious assertion of innocence, you were still acquitted of your allegations of treachery.

It never fails to make the current Head Priestess feel sour over a 5 centuries-year-old case.

"In their last moments, (L/n) penned Watatsumi Fair and Canticle, two sonnets kept hidden in an alcohol burner." Kokomi murmured as she read. "Although the prince barred their spouse entry, several other family members and friends came to visit (L/n) with the Orobashi coral statue provided by the townsfolk. The sculpture was created for them during the aforementioned fair."

Are you going to Watatsumi Fair?

"In their Fontainian black suit, hat, shoes, and white vest, (L/n) walked calmly outside their prison cell to the execution site in Inazuma City. They've even checked (L/n)'s pulse and felt no irregularities. (L/n) were tied elbow-to-elbow despite their visible acceptance of fate."

"It was speculated that Prince Kunikuzushi was the last person whom they talked to, looking rather somberly with disdain. He spoke in a foreign language so only (L/n) and he knew of their conversation."

Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, shiso.

"But Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko understood what he had said. Je t'aime, mon grand amour… ma première trahison. Roughly translated as I love you, my grand love… my first betrayal."

"Lector (Y/n) (L/n) was commanded to face the ground when the firing squad pulled the trigger, but they still tried to face their executioners. They fell to the shoveled ground, looking at the gray morning skies. They were buried at seven."

“From then on, the name Kunikuzushi changed its meaning to Country Destroyer— for he had successfully demolished the Inazuman Empire upon sitting on the throne through violent means. When asked about this, the King responded with:”

Remember me to one who lives there.

“I didn't desire the Empire that took away my (Y/n). I didn't crave any of it. As soon as I was coronated, my heart stopped beating. And so, I enticed the neighboring King Morax to crumble the very essence of the Inazuman Empire. What purpose do these soldiers have in life, when all they've done is obediently follow ruthless commands and snuff out the ones who hold my heart?

When it’s said and done, I will be empty— a blank slate, destined to wander the desolate corridors of a nation bygone.

Only to honor these filthy human emotions called “love” that never came to be.”

He once was a true love of mine.

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist <3): @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram , @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen

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