#because the part of him that dedicated his life to protecting people over and over again knows those orders aren’t right

[lightning-chicken]

i know plot convenience is a thing but i can’t stop thinking about the implications of jay finding bonzle in the fake monastery’s basement of all places. did he know it was there before he walked into the building? did his feet carry him there, subconsciously retracing old steps? did he wait there, knowing he was far from the fight, because his side of the fight wasn’t the one he truly believed in?

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part six)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: y'all this part absolutely drained me. Idk what it was but I felt so stuck when writing this. I got it to a point where I can start part seven fresh, so fingers crossed whatever happened here doesn't happen again. I hope you all still enjoy it lol <33

part six: because I love you

Waking up in Hugh’s arms was heaven. He was still asleep when you first opened your eyes, his soft snores tickling your ear. You were grateful that he didn’t have those loud old man snores like some of your past lovers had, though you were sure you wouldn’t mind if he did. Gently lifting the arm that was wrapped around your waist, you carefully rolled over to face him. As you studied his resting face, you felt overcome with a deep sentiment of gratitude. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake. The face that almost always carried a smile was at peace, lips slightly ajar. You adored his face, the deep lines showing a life of joy and laughter. Each nook and cranny aging him beautifully over the years. It made you sad in a way. You wished you could have experienced life with him, wanting nothing more than to have the ‘right’ life with him. A life where your relationship with Hugh made sense and was accepted- but you would gladly take whatever time you could get with him. 

You placed your hand on his cheek, sliding your fingers delicately over the course hairs that covered his jaw. Your chest felt warm. The feelings you had for the man who slept so deeply before you had grown stronger than you’d anticipated, but Hugh made it so easy to fall for him. And you had fallen for him, you knew that now. If one thing for certain came out of this time you’d spent with Hugh, it was that you were unbelievably in love with him. You had always found yourself falling too fast for the wrong people but you had good faith that for once it would be right. For once, you wouldn’t get hurt. You trusted him to protect your heart and to do right by you. You knew he would. 

As much as you wanted to stay and count every wrinkle that laid upon his face, you had to pee really bad. You gave him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and wiggled slowly out of his grip. You gave him one last look over before heading down the hall to the bathroom. As you sat there, memories of the night before danced around your mind. The way he kissed you, touched you. He made you feel like you were worth something. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, always feeling used by other men and deep down you know that all you were to them was just some young girl to fuck. You never actually meant anything to them. Hugh was different. Being with him felt right. You couldn’t find any other words to describe the feeling. He hadn’t brought you here to have sex,  for once it was you who had made that decision. He bought you flowers and a cake to congratulate you on an achievement that no one else cared to celebrate with you. He cared for you in some capacity and it made you feel horrible, because even with all this confirmation, you still had doubts.

You’ve been fighting a secret battle since the moment he kissed you, the moment everything between you changed. Putting what you were feeling into words felt impossible. What you did know though, is that you were terrified that you wouldn’t be enough for him. Scared that he would snap out of whatever daze he was in and miss the life he had with his wife and kids, the life that didn’t involve you. The life that made sense. 

When you walk back to the bedroom you find Hugh sitting up with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His glasses were perched on the lower bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off any moment. His eyes peaked over the frames as he turned to look at you. “Morning baby. I was just about to text you, thought you left.” He sets his phone down on the bedside table as he speaks. “Mhm, just had to pee.” You walk over to the bed and climb up, straddling Hugh’s lap. “Why didn’t you use this one?” He jerks his head to the bathroom that’s attached to the room and you shrug. “I don’t know. The vibes of the thirst trap bathroom just feel different.” You joke. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” He asks, smirking slightly. You shake your head. “Absolutely not.” You affirm and it makes Hugh chuckle. “I was wondering if you had any plans for your last day in the big apple?” His hands rest on your exposed thighs and you become all too aware that you’re still butt ass naked under his t-shirt. “Uhh, not really. I was actually gonna ask if I could hang out with you today…” Your voice is shy. “I was really hoping you’d say that. I might have planned a few things for us.” Hugh smiles and you could feel excitement flood your body. “May I have insight on said plans kind sir?” You put on a posh voice that Hugh mimics. “I’m afraid not my lady, for each destination today is to be undisclosed until further notice.” You drop the bit but not without letting out a deep belly laugh at Hugh’s impressively good accent change. “Can I at least have a little hint so I know what to wear?” He thinks for a moment. “I’m giving you the proper New York tourist day, so wear something comfy.” He pauses. “Maybe wear something incognito. It might be harder to hide than it was the other day.” You hum in acknowledgment. “Do you think I could borrow some underwear or something? I’m feeling a little exposed.” Hugh laughs. 

Your fingers picked at the basketball shorts he let you borrow, tying the strings over and over again as Hugh made breakfast. Small conversation filled the large space and the domesticality of the situation made you flustered. “I’m kinda nervy about the tour. Are you gonna come support me on opening night?” He’s whisking the eggs in a small bowl with a fork and it was oddly attractive. “As long as my schedule allows it, I'll be there. I'd be at every show if I could be.” He looks up and sets the bowl down. “I’d do a lot of things for you, probably anything.” He adds before he turns around to start one of the gas stove burners. It ticks a few times before it catches. “That’s a lot of power to hold and you definitely messed up by telling me that.” You hold your hands up, each finger touching, as you wiggle them in an evil manner. Hugh looks back at you from where he’s moving the eggs around in the pan and smiles. “Don’t get too excited. I said probably anything.” You drop your hands and shrug. “That’s a lot more than I'm used to.” He turns back to the eggs. “Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” The question takes you aback. “I’m not trying to be mean…After hearing some of the things you say and seeing how Pedr-..how he treated you, I’m not seeing anything good. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused on how a girl like you has never had anyone treat you right.” He plates the eggs and oils the pan to drop the turkey bacon as if he didn’t drop such a big observation onto you. 

“I uh-...I’m not really sure what to say…I mean I guess I haven’t really had a guy care about me all too much.” He turns to you, staying close to the stove. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You shrug. “I mean you’re not wrong. Everyone always seems to give up on me before anything serious happens…but hey that’s the price of being famous and having my taste in men I guess.” He flips the bacon. “I don’t know how I feel being your taste in men then. They aren’t really setting a good reputation.” He jokes but it stings a little. “Eh. I think you’re doing a lot better than any of them ever did. You’re sweet and kind…and unbelievably sexy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from its original content. It works, Hugh laughs. “You should go take a picture in the mirror again and post it. Your fans would love it.” He takes the bacon off of the pan and sets the pieces on a paper towel lined plate. “I didn’t post that for the fans babe. I posted that for you.” Your jaw drops and you draw a dramatic gasp. “I knew it was a thirst trap. Y’know next time you can just send it to me instead of posting it on instagram. I’d love a few more to add to my collection.” 

“Your collection?” He cocks an eyebrow up and you ignore his question. “Do you need my help with anything? I feel kinda useless just sitting here.” You ask as Hugh pulls out a container of strawberries. “It’s okay baby, I got it.” You hum, fingers going back to the strings on your shorts. Hugh washes a handful of berries and dries them one by one. “You’re good at changing the conversation.” He mumbles and lets out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at him with an innocent face. He’s silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft knocks of the knife hitting the cutting board. You watched as each slice of the strawberry fell over as Hugh worked. His hands stop for a moment and you look up at him, catching his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and that I truly care for you.” His eyes focus back onto the cutting board. “I know that.” You mumble. “Then let that be a reminder. I want to hear the things you’ve been through. I want to know everything about you so I can be the best version of myself for you.” You didn’t know what to say, so instead you hopped out of the chair and hugged him.

–

After breakfast and after you followed Hugh around like a lost puppy while he got ready for the day, he drove you back to your hotel so you could do the same. You were frantically walking back and forth as you got ready, packing your suitcase as you went along. Hugh was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone. You picked out a pair of baggy black denim cargo pants to wear but you couldn’t decide between the classic ‘i love new york’ t-shirt you bought your first day here or a maroon turtleneck. “Which one should I wear? I’m leaning towards the new york one but I feel like that’s too touristy you know?” You start speaking as you walk out of the bathroom and hold up both shirts. “If I wear the turtleneck then I can probably get away with not wearing a jacket and I can also wear the converse I have that are in the same color.” You stand at a mirror that is in the hallway, putting each shirt over your chest, comparing them. When Hugh doesn’t answer, you turn to see him staring at you. “Hugh did you hear anything I just said?” He’s sat up on the bed now, no longer in the starfish position he was once in. “Wear the new york one baby. You won’t be a tourist forever. There’s only a matter of time before the city becomes familiar.” He explains. “Mm. Good point. Thank you babe.” You throw the turtleneck on your open suitcase and just as you're about to throw the simple graphic tee over your head, Hugh speaks. “Wait..don’t put that on yet. C’mere.” The last part is mumbled as he holds his hands out for you. 

You set your shirt down as you walk over to him. Both his arms snake around your waist as soon as you step between his thick thighs. “You look delicious right now.” His arms loosen as he pulls you back, taking in your appearance. “Is me not wearing a shirt, turning you on Hugh?” You tease. You almost forgot that you were only walking around in a simple black t-shirt bra. It lifted your boobs surprisingly well for the style and you could tell it was getting to Hugh. “What if I said it was?” He asks, eyes moving from your chest to your face. “If this gets you going too easily, you’re gonna struggle when you see the outfits I perform in.” You laugh. “Mhm. I’m excited.” He growls with a smirk before plunging his head towards your cleavage, kissing up and down the exposed skin. “You’re such a hornball.” You let out in your fit of laughter. He rests his face in the crook of your boobs. You can hear him mumbling something but you can’t make out the words. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” He reluctantly pulls his face back. “I said that we could always stay in today instead…Wanna get another taste of you.” His hands grip your waist and you feel a pulse between your legs from his words. 

“As tempting as that is…and it’s really really tempting. I wanna go out with you today, have some normality before life goes back to normal tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have time before my flight…for what you said.” He smiles and pats your butt. “Okay baby. Finish getting ready so we can go.” You lean down with puckered lips, meeting Hugh’s in a sweet kiss. “I’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes.” You promise as you pick your shirt up and run back into the bathroom. 

Somehow in the short time it took you to get ready, Hugh convinced you to let him take you to the airport. You tried to refuse since you already had accommodations made for the early 3:30am flight but he fought back. He said that it would be easier and we could spend more time together before I left. You agreed, wanting to spend every single last second with the man you loved. He threw your suitcase in the trunk of his car and the two of you were off on whatever adventure Hugh had planned. 

The first stop was at Battery park to see the Statue of Liberty. Hugh surprised you with a ferry ride that took you from the park to Liberty island, then Ellis island. You thanked Hugh non-stop as you boarded the ferry. You were a big history nerd and being able to be around objects and buildings that have existed for many generations of people before you, excited you to your core. Hugh was watching your thrill with a smile, sneaking pictures of you when he could- you never noticed. You did ask him to take a few pictures of you as the ferry moved right in front of lady liberty herself. Your smile was wide, eyes crinkled behind your sunglasses. Hugh held you close the entire time, kissing the top of your head every now and then. He would take you all over the world if it meant he got to see you this happy all the time. 

The whole exploration took about four hours. You were very thorough in your wanding, not wanting to miss a single detail. You apologized to Hugh every time you felt like you were taking too long but he never seemed annoyed or upset, just happy to be with you. Once you were back on the mainland, the two of you were starving and started to discuss places to eat. “I think that Stardust place would be fun but I heard it’s almost impossible to get in.” You don’t mean for it to sound like it was something you really wanted to do. You were just thinking out loud. “I can get us in there baby.” Hugh says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hugh Jackman…are you telling me you’d name drop yourself for me?” You smile. “I told you, anything for you sweetheart.” He raises your intertwined hands to his face, leaving a kiss on yours. “As sweet as that is, I could probably name drop myself and get in.” You smile. “It’s probably not smart for you to go into a place full of theater nerds anyway since you’ve been on Broadway multiple times or whatever.” You joke. “You’re probably right. I am quite the Broadway star.” He jokes back. “Fuck it. Let’s just get pizza again. I've only a tourist for so long, remember?” “Fuck it.” He agrees. 

You find a different pizza shop this time, waiting in the car while Hugh goes in to order. You spent the time looking through your phone. You saw a few texts from Ashley and it made your heart ache. She was a terrible friend but you still grieved the good times you did have. Once you got back home, you knew it was probably for the best to talk to her, settle everything, and get some closure. You thought a lot about loose ends you needed to tie as you entered this new chapter of your life, Pedro being one of them as well. You wanted as clean of a slate you could get as you moved forward with Hugh. 

“God I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in there.” Hugh says as he opens the driver door, sitting two styrofoam cups in the center console drink holders. “Do you mind holding this for a moment sweetheart?” He asks, holding up a small box that had a large brown paper bag sitting on top. You grab it and Hugh climbs into the car. “Would it be too cliche if we ate this at the great lawn?” You ask with a lazy grin. “Maybe a little bit but it sounds like a great idea darling.” He smiles back. 

The drive to Central Park was a short one. Finding a parking spot however, took awhile. Hugh drove through one of the nearby parking garages, going up and down until he finally caught someone pulling out. When the two of you finally reached the lawn, you were a little nervous at the amount of people there but you put it aside, hoping that your sunglasses would be enough to hide you from any possible fans. You found a spot, farther away from the larger crowds. It was peaceful for the most part, both Hugh and yourself to engaged in conversation and eating to care about anything else. When you were both done eating, you scooted closer to Hugh, who then offered you to sit between his legs as he leaned back. Your back was against his chest, lifting with every breath he took. “This is nice.” You say, looking up at Hugh. “It is.” He agrees, kissing your forehead. When you look forward again, a girl catches your eye. She’s sitting not too far off and she’s staring. It makes your heart stop, afraid that she might have recognized you or Hugh. Your suspicion is proved right, her eyes go wide and she lifts her phone, pointing it directly in your direction. “Babe, I think that girl is recording us.” You nudge Hugh slightly to get his attention. He looks in the girl's direction and sighs. “Let’s get out of here.” The two of you walk back to the car, hand in hand. 

“Do you wanna go home or are you still up for one more adventure?” Hugh asks once you’re both settled in the car. The way he says ‘home’ makes your heart flutter. You know it’s probably out of habit but it makes you wonder what sharing a home with him would be like, how being with him officially would be. “I’m down for more touristing.” You smile, trying to let go of the bitter mood that girl had put you in. You didn’t mind fans recognizing you but it always sucked when a good moment was taken away because of it- a moment that would have been normal if you and Hugh were ‘normal’ people. 

The sun was starting to set as Hugh drove and it was beautiful. Seeing the city lights take over was a sight to see. “I thought we were going somewhere else?” You ask in confusion as Hugh pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building. “We are but I thought we could walk, if that’s okay with you love. It’s not too far.” He parks the car in his designated spot. “Yea that’s fine.” His hand squeezes your thigh, a place it often sits as he drives. “Let’s go then.” 

You were convinced there wasn’t anything more beautiful than walking through New York at night. You were never fond of big cities, only living in Los Angeles because you had to for work, but something about nyc brings a sense of home you’ve never felt before. Almost like a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a place that felt right. 

The last stop happened to be Times Square. The second you found a good spot, you passed your phone over to Hugh to take pictures of you. It was a little over stimulating the longer you stood there, admiring all of the giant screens and billboards. You tried to tough it out as long as possible but your last straw was when some guy in a janky super hero suit tried to come up to you. Hugh was quick to grab you and lead you away. “I can’t make up my mind on what’s worse, the con artist in Hollywood or the ones here.” You joke, Hugh laughs agreeing. The streets started to empty the further away you got from the square and you were thankful for that. As you walked hand in hand with Hugh, you started to hum the melody of ‘New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. Hugh smiles down at you and releases your hand to pull you closer, his arm resting over your shoulder. “Ooo. Can we go in there real quick?” You ask, pointing at the small grocery market across the street. “Sure baby.” You can tell he’s confused so you answer his question before he can ask. “I wanna make dinner for you.” You look both ways down the street before crossing. “You don’t have to do that sweet girl.” The sliding doors open and you’re hit with the cool air. “I want to.” He doesn’t say anything else as he follows you around the store. When you hit the produce section, you lift the sunglasses that had been sitting on your face for most of the day, creating a makeshift headband. You gather a mix of yukon gold and baby red potatoes, as well as a few carrots and a stock of broccoli. “What are you making?” Hugh asks as you walk towards the meat shelves, grabbing a pack of two chicken breasts. “A spicy, maple chicken sheet pan dinner.” You explain, walking towards the next aisle. “A sheet pan dinner?” He questions. “You throw everything onto the same pan, shove it in the oven, and boom, you have dinner.” He laughs. “I guess that makes sense.” 

Hugh insisted on paying for everything but you refused. He had paid for almost everything else since you’ve been in New York and you had to remind him that you too had too much money than you knew what to do with. He complained about it the whole way back to his apartment, it was kinda cute. When you finally got back, you asked Hugh to gather everything you’d need: a cutting board, a large bowl, a peeler, a colander, etc. You wanted to make sure you had everything so he could sit and watch, just as you had with him this morning. “I could get used to this.” You look up from where you're mixing the veggies and seasoning in a bowl. “What, me cooking for you?” You ask, sarcasm present in your voice. “No, you being here with me.” Hugh smiles. “Oh..” You whisper as you dump the prepped veggies onto the parchment lined sheet pan. “Was that too forward?” You’re patting the chicken with a paper towel and placing them in the same bowl as he asks. “No. I like when you say stuff like that, it just makes me all nervous.” You drizzle the chicken in olive oil and add your choice of seasonings. “Why does it make you nervous?” His elbows are on the counter, hands resting in his hands. “Because someone like you likes someone like me, it’s crazy.” You place the chicken on the sheet pan before placing it into the already heated oven. 

Hugh stands up and walks behind you. His arms wrap around you as you wash your hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asks, giving light kisses to your neck. “Sometimes.” You wiggle out of his arms to dry your hands on a towel that rests on the oven handle. “I must not be doing a very good job at showing it then.” You walk back over to him, where he’s leaning back on the counter. “It’s not you babe, it’s the voices.” You point to your head. “What are they saying?” You think for a moment. “Do you want the default answer or the real answer?” “The real one.” He responds without a second thought. “I think I’m just scared that all of this is temporary.” You say motioned your arms around. “I’m scared that one day you’ll snap out of whatever it is you feel for me and just…just leave and not want me anymore.” He pulls you into his chest. “I don’t know what I can say or do to break you free from that but I can promise that I won't just leave you. If there ever comes a time where I don't want to be with you, which is very unlikely, I’ll tell you.” You don’t say anything as he holds you. The two of you stay like that until the twenty five minute timer you set is going off. 

—

“Do you really have to leave today?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your back softly. After dinner, Hugh went down to fetch your suitcase out of his car. Both of you took showers, separately this time. Now you were straddling his lap, laying forward with your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Unfortunately..” You sigh out. “You can’t stay just a few more days?” He practically pouts and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.  “I really wish I could but duty calls. I jump right into work once I’m back.” This time he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you.” “I’m gonna miss you too.” You give his neck a few small kisses before speaking again. “When are you coming back to LA?” You lift your upper body and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I’m not sure. Got some stuff to deal with here, might take a while.” He lifts himself up, sitting up straight against the headboard, putting you both in the same position as this morning. “Hm. What stuff?” You ask, hands trailing down from his chest to his abs. “Divorce stuff. Ex-wife stuff.” He shrugs slightly and leans forward, his lips meeting your neck as he leaves his own kisses. “Oh..” It comes out more as a moan, Hugh’s teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. “That must be hard, divorcing after so long together.” His lips falter for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” He leans back against the headboard. His response made you feel weird. Hugh’s voice was distant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You apologize, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “It’s okay, it would’ve come up eventually.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it Hugh, it’s okay.” 

“It’s something we should talk about though. It’s not fair to you. You’ve opened up so much to me, I should do the same for you.” You’re silent, not sure what to say. “Does it bother you?”  Hugh asks.

“Does what bother me?” You know what he’s asking but you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“That I was married?” He’s looking at you, but you're looking down at his hands. 

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Him being married isn’t what bothered you. “Look at me baby.” His voice is stern, a tone that you haven’t heard before. When you look at him his eyes are quick to line with yours. “Does it bother you? Don’t lie to me.” You sigh, hands sliding from his stomach. You rest them on top of his own where they are placed on your thigh. “I wasn't lying. It doesn’t bother me that you were married.” 

“Then what’s up sweet girl? I can tell there's something going on in that pretty head of yours..” The way he’s looking at you makes your heart race. He’s looking at you like you're the most important person in the world, like you mean everything to him. 

“I don’t care that you were married…it’s just..this is gonna sound stupid but..I’m scared of how long you two were together and how recent your divorce was.” 

“What do you mean baby?” 

“Like I said earlier, I’m scared of this being temporary. That I’m just some…god I don’t know…that I’m a rebound or something. That the two of you will realize that being separated wasn’t the right decision.” Your posture breaks as you slump forward slightly. “I knew that she would always be in your life and I’ve been trying to make peace with that…but the thought of you leaving is too much.” You confess. 

“Y/n…What Deb and I had has been over for a long time. It was over years before we finalized anything. Everything now is purely about our kids. I’ll always hold love for her in my heart but it isn’t a romantic love anymore. That love is reserved for you sweet girl, all for you.” His fingers delicately lift your chin. “I’m a devoted man y/n. Once you have me, I’m yours. I promise.” His thumb rubs along your jaw. You lift your pinky and he chuckles slightly. He lifts his own and links it with yours. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Hugh asks, seriousness fills his voice. “I really want to be.” His eyes soften. “What’s stopping you from being all mine baby?” 

The question is loaded. The answer was full of worries you shoved deep down, hoping they wouldn’t come up as soon as they did. From the moment you walked into his home, you tried your best to ignore the family photos that littered his walls. Photos of him and his wife with wide smiles, their kids standing between them, smiles just as wide. You pushed down every feeling you had as he showed you the rooms he kept for his kids for when they would visit. His daughter's room hurt the most. You saw glimpses of your own teenage years that you’d excited only a few years earlier. His son’s room reminds you that that was the room of a man whose age was more appropriate for you. You’d been reminded non-stop that what you had with Hugh was wrong in the eyes of others, so wrong that you were starting to feel it too.

“Does it ever worry you that our relationship isn’t practical? That it doesn’t make sense?” He makes a face and he looks almost offended.“How doesn’t it make sense? I like you, you like me. You’re happy, I’m happy. What more is there to it?” 

“That’s the thing Hugh. When it comes to you, it will never just be you.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “I'm confused baby.” You sigh. “Hugh, you were married for decades, with kids. What is your ex-wife going to think about you dating a girl that’s thirty three years younger than you? Hell, better yet, what will your kids think Hugh? What are they going to think about you dating a girl that sits right in between their ages?” You rant. “What Deb thinks about us doesn’t matter. She’ll get over it.” His hands give your thighs a small squeeze. “And your kids?” He sighs. “I’m not sure what they’ll think but I’m sure that if I explain it to them they’ll understand. They’re old enough to where you won’t need to be a big part of their lives.”

“I know that babe but I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit into your life as it is. I can’t just show up to the family Christmas parties as your girlfriend. Do you know how fucking weird that will be for me, for them?” His face falls and you know he doesn’t take your words the way you intended. “It would be weird to be my girlfriend?” 

“Hugh, that’s not what I meant.” He goes to move you off his lap but you tighten your thighs to stand your ground. “Babe, you have to understand what I mean. I don’t wanna hide from your kids and Deborra. I want to be a part of your life completely and that includes knowing them.” He stops moving and sighs. 

“This isn’t going to be easy y/n. I know I have baggage and I’m sorry that this wasn’t something we talked about sooner. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave and have nothing to do with me.” Hugh lowers his head slightly. “Hugh, I don’t wanna leave you. I’m used to older men, just not ones with ex-wives and kids.” You try to make it lighten the mood, hoping to make him laugh. It doesn’t. 

“Everyone’s gonna hate us if we do this. The fans, your family, probably even my family if I’m being honest. The crazy thing is that I don’t care if everyone hates me but I don’t want to be the reason everyone hates you.” 

Those last words felt like a weight coming off of your shoulders. The words were so simple but had been so hard to say all this time. They were true. You didn’t care if fans turned on you, you didn’t care if your family disapproved, though you couldn’t imagine them disliking Hugh. Selfishly, you also didn’t care that much if Hugh’s family hated you. These were all miniscule issues when it came to you loving Hugh. As long as he was happy, you were happy. But the thought of Hugh experiencing any of that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want him to lose fans he’s had over the long course of his career, you didn’t want to put him through the burden of his family not approving of you and him having to feel the awkwardness every time you were around them. You couldn’t imagine him jeopardizing the life he had built all because of you. You were still building a career. Everyone around you has already experienced you dating men that have no business dating someone your age. You didn’t want to hurt him with the implications that came along with your name and age. 

“That’s not fair to say.” Hugh squeezes your hand. “You can’t put the weight of everything on yourself. If you decide that you want to be with me, then that’s how it’s going to be. You and me. We’ll figure everything out together.” You look off to the side because you know if you look at him the ache you’d been feeling in your throat will betray you. “Look at me.” The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches for your cheek as he attempts to move your face to look towards him. You refuse, already feeling a tear slip down involuntarily. “Baby please.” He tries again and you let him turn your face. A sob escapes, the pain in your neck finally relieved. “What’s wrong y/n? You gotta talk to me.” His voice is sweet and patient. All this man does is care for you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you and your family Hugh. I don’t want them to suffer, all because I love you.” You sob. “You what?” His hands drop down to your knees. “I love you, Hugh.” You try your best to get the words out through the steady stream of tears. “Do you mean that baby?” He asks softly as one hand comes back to your cheek, wiping a few tears away. “Of course I mean it, that’s why I can’t leave you. I feel so selfish because the smart thing would be to walk away so no one gets hurt but I can’t. I love you too much to let you go.” 

“I love you y/n, so much.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” You ask with sad eyes. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the moment I met you baby. You looked so pretty that day and your voice was like a siren's call. I tried to fight the attraction but when you invited me to your album party, I didn't care anymore. I wanted you.” You grabbed his face at the confession, pulling his lips to yours. You both let every emotion spill into the kiss. “Does this make you my girlfriend now or are we still friends that hook up and love each other?” He asks jokingly with a dopey smile. “As much as I want to say yes, talk to your kids first. Please. I think it would make me feel a little better about everything.” He kisses you. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.” 

—

Leaving Hugh felt impossible. Not knowing when you’d see him next and him being around his ex-wife without you here to distract him made you nervous. You trusted him but when it came to you or the woman he was married to for twenty seven years, it was hard to say he'd choose you. Even after his reassurance, you had a feeling she would always come first. 

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You ask as you hug him, the two of you in the same hidden room from when he picked you up. “I really wish I could baby. I’ll try to get back out there as soon as I can.” He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay there for as long as you can. “I should probably go.” You say reluctantly. “Yea, you should.” You give him a few quick kisses. “Don’t leave me waiting too long. I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile at him before giving him one last kiss. “I won’t, sweet girl. Text me as soon as you board and when you land okay?” You grab the handle of your suitcase. “I will.” You start to walk towards the door that leads out to the public but before you go out, you turn towards him one more time. “Bye Hugh.” You give him a small wave. “Bye baby. I love you.” The words make you smile. “I love you Hugh.” You give him one more wave before you walk through the door.

thank you for reading!

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[clare-875]

He Loves Me (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Zoro x Reader Summary: The different ways Zoro shows that he loves you. Warnings: Fluff, slightly suggestive in some parts? Notes: The above images do NOT belong to me, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

People often think that because Zoro seemed so frequently serious or emotionally distanced, he was incapable of offering love. So, when you and he started to date, it was a surprise to almost everyone who knew of the two of you. Even those around you who knew him best, namely your beloved crew, would tease even the faintest flush of his cheeks when he was caught looking at you, as though it were some sort of miracle. Some members would even ask if he truly reciprocated the love you so blatantly showed for the green-haired swordsman because the concept of Zoro and the notion of 'love' didn't really click. They knew he loved his swords and was dedicated to the crew and his dreams but that type of devotion seemed foreign and unlikely. You knew that their words came from a place of concern; concern that you were in a one-sided relationship. However, what your crew failed to notice is how Zoro loved. Sure, maybe he wouldn't blabber sweet words or openly display physical affection beyond your rooms, but within the confines of you and him you see it; he loves you.

Zoro loves through thoughts of you.

Before you, Zoro thought his only ambitions in life were to stay devoted to his Captain and to become the world's greatest swordsman. Love was a concept that hadn't even crossed his mind, he had never been tempted with it nor had he ever been driven to consider it. But then he met you. He saw your sweet smile, your doe eyes, your kindness, your beautiful demeanour. Suddenly, he could only mock the love-drunk cook half-heartedly, because though he would never show it, you were all that clouded his mind. Through workouts that he was so usually lost in, he found himself losing count of the amount of times he swung his weights forward; his thoughts drifting to you. The naps that usually brought nothing but peace from the rowdy crew suddenly became overwhelmed by images of you in his arms, or in his bed. So, when the months had passed and he learned from Robin's constant but subtle teasing that maybe he was in love, imagine his surprise when you confessed that you were too. Even now, when the two of you had been together for more than a year, his thoughts were littered and lingered with you; every movement and action with you at the forefront of his mind.

Zoro loves through his attentive stare, always watching for you.

It could be on days when countless enemies threatened your lives. It could be on days so serene you could not envision anything going wrong. Either way, it didn't matter. Zoro's senses were always perceptive and ready to protect, even when danger was not imminent. During quiet days when the crew set sail over the open seas, Zoro always kept one eye open. He always searched through the muddled voices of the crew for yours. One yelp or one surprised gasp had his heart pounding. It was his sixth sense. He would get up to search for you instantly, even if you had only gotten caught up in a harmless prank or got a papercut paging through books; even if all he had to offer was a roll of his eyes or muttered words, "be more careful woman," when he found you. You didn't know of the crew's shock as he seemingly vanished from the place where he lay to come in search of you. You didn't hear the rapid spike of his heart. Zoro knew you were strong, but he also knew how easily he could lose someone close to him. He had experienced it with Kuina; he would die before he experienced it with you.

Zoro loves through the trust he so willingly gives to you.

Zoro wouldn't love anyone who was not as devoted to the crew, to improving themselves or who didn't have the will and evidence to call themselves worthy of the Straw Hat Crew. You were capable and loyal, thus you were worth his trust both on the battlefield and in his heart. It was shown through countless battles where you fought off powerful enemies, protected less combat-focused crew members and provided emotional consolation atop burdens you held yourself. He trusted you to handle your battles and knew of the pride that came with it; you were his respected partner. His trust would even extend off the battlefield. He would trust you to look after his prized swords and he would trust your word; he doesn't even know the meaning of jealousy. He would watch in rowdy bars as you get two drinks and the fifth man that night approaches. Zoro sees it as a compliment, you were beautiful. But he watches with pride as you turn another man away from you and walk back to his side. The only movements he would make were when men go too touchy, too confident in their drunkenness. Zoro would have them bleeding to the floor before they uttered another filthy word as they tried and failed to pry away the trust that was so concrete in his mind, so obvious in the kiss you would grant him afterwards.

Zoro loves through quiet and hidden intimacy.

Zoro was not one to show open physical affection with the likes of the crew or strangers he could care less for. Only in quiet and drunken evenings would he maybe let slip, wrapping an arm around your waist tightly and placing sloppy kisses along your neck. Well, only for Sanji to then start screaming incoherently at the sight of him, to which a drunken argument would soon take place. Normally, behind closed doors, you saw Zoro's love for you more blatantly. You didn't have to have perceptive eyes when you could feel his lips on yours, hungrily mingling with your tongue and your skin. People would never question his devotion in countless nights spent with his tight grip against your wrists, his swift movement against you, uttered words of praise whispered in your ear. His love was shown in the marks that he gifts you and the ones you would try to cover under the light of day. His love was obvious in his wide smirk as you trace the scratches upon his back, your love etched within them. You see the shock around you when he walks shirtless and proud, displaying your work as though it were a given. You hear more screaming from Sanji, see a frozen Nami as she observes the sight, and a teasing smile from Robin as she turns to you, "Oh my..."

Zoro loves through the dream of you.

In return for the trust he so easily receives from you, he returns it with his devotion. Everyone knows of Zoro's loyalty to Luffy and his goal, but they were the only things that could best his loyalty to you. All else didn't matter to him; you were his end game. People could try to take his eyes away from you, but it would be for naught because his gaze was stubborn. How could it not be? You were beautiful, strong, kind, loving. Zoro never thought that he would even consider a life outside of the straw hat crew, but he created the dream just for you. Images of you and him together through every age and every trial. You and him after he achieved his goal and witnessed his Captain do the same. After that, you would be all that mattered to him, the only dream that he had left. He even considered smaller versions of you and him running about, you swelled with his child, your motherly form. He dreamed of owning a dojo and waking to you each day, he dreamed of you and him and two rings on your fingers, a quiet ceremony held to seal your love and his. He dreams of him old in his age watching the sun fall to the depths of the horizon with you by his side, years of life upon your form but still beautiful nonetheless. It was his most private dream, but one he found desiring the most.

It was an impossible dream to him before he knew of you. Now, he has you in his arms and you are distracted by exhaustion, not seeing but feeling Zoro's gaze on you. You had murmured words about your day to him but as the night dragged on you found your words become more slurred, ready for sleep to take you. He simply watched as your excited blabbering seeped into slow utterances, but he didn't mind. He loved the sight of you in his arms. He loved the sound of your voice. You look up to glimpse at him and he meets your gaze easily. You see flickers of adoration and a glimmer of emotion in his eyes as he breathes in the existence of you. And you could never question it, you could never wander of his love as others would. But you supposed it was an honour, to love the swordsman and have his love for you returned. "You love me." Your words are tainted with fatigue as you push your face into his chest, relishing the warmth that he so easily provides. Zoro rolls his eyes as though dismissing your words but pulls you closer to him anyway, and that is enough for you to know and for him to show that he does; he loves you. You would rarely hear it. However, as the moments pass in peaceful silence, and when Zoro thinks that time would have surely taken you from your consciousness and into the depths of sleep he murmurs it within your hair.

"I love you."

[jnece-maharlika]

Pt 2. EXTRA Danny accidentally becomes the president

P2 extra: Danny becomes the president

Danny slept for ONLY a few days and when he woke up he was healed of all injury. Oh, and also, he wasn't in his room. NO, he was in a mansion, a FRUITLOOP type of mansion. A beautiful gothic inspired mansion that screamed "I AM ELEGANCE, I AM BEAUTY I AM MONEY" it was only when he one of the workers in the mansion came in did he get informed about what happened these last few days.

APPARENTLY this wasn't just a mansion, it was a WHITE HOUSE. Except it was panted like a black and green galaxy because everyone hates white now

And also he's the president.

A Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL or EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

All he wanted to keep to protect his town from the GIW. But considering that fainted he was... unsuccessful? But that slight failure did help the amity parkers decide to help themselves and finally accept him as hero so maybe not??

He was happy that they accepted him and protected him but he really wasn't expecting this at all. Why in the world did they make him president??? He didn't think they liked him that much! Also! How is he president??? Amity park is just a random town in the middle of nowhere Illinois!

Wait...what??! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMITY IS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY???!! I WAS OUT FOR 3 DAYS! THEY HAVENT EVEN STARTED CLEANING UP YET HOW IN THE NAME OF THEY ANCIENTS DID WE GET DECLARED AS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY????!

"I see..." Danny nodded after finally calming down. "So let me get this straight..." He counted on his fingers, "You," he looks at the woman in front of him "along side other people and ghosts, and mom and dad, and fright night, and Pandora...kidnapped the us president"

She nodded.

"Took him to UN headquarters, then Bribed, blackmailed, and harrased the UN members into declaring us a country"

.she nodded.

"Then declared me as king and president of amity"

She nodded.

"You know this new development is gonna attract the league of bitches right?"

"Oh we won't have to worry about that for now, but when they do then we'll be prepared." She smiled innocently.

Danny stared at her with tired eyes as he channeled his inner amity parker, the power to say well, I guess this is happening now. He sighed "Fine, but I can't be king and president at the same time. I can be king since you're all liminal, so technically all of amity is part of the whole ghost king territory." He sighed, "but I can't be president, too much responsibility, I'm already in charge of a whole ass realm"

So now they needed a new president, preferably some uncorrupt, someone who doesn't care much about the money and will always look for ways to improve the living standard, someone kind but not a push over.

Next day it was declared that.

MADDIE AND JACK FENTON, PRESIDENTS OF AMITY.

Danny was stunned when he saw the news. Did they seriously pick the resident mad scientists as president.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents and know that they're awesome but can they do this???

Turns out they can.

The president Drs Fenton's first move was healthcare for Both ghosts and humans and a free class dedicated to helping yourself.

Helping yourself classes include:

How to stitch your self up

How to use fudge as a weapon

How to fight the world most dangerous villains.

How to fight the worlds strongest heroes

Etch.

They launched some programs that might seem weird at first.

Programs like:

A defence class against sentient food.

Making friends with the realms

A school for the liminal

A class for avoiding the fae.

Using the blob ghosts as construction workers.

Etch

They might be weird but the end results turned out to be pretty usefull for the amity parkers.

At some point they decided to build a wall around the countrys property. It would ensure that only the amity parkers and people with permission would be able to enter/leave the town. There would be no gate and the only way out would be trough the portal system built by the Fenton's.

Danny thought it was too much

The amity parkers thought it was perfect, they didn't want anyone in their country, this was the kings haunt, this was their home and they would die and then come back as ghosts just to protect it.

And so the wall was raised..

Amity park continued to live in harmony and peace for many years...

-----

A couple of years later.

Flash had come across the wall.

And of course, alerted the league of bitches.

Batman was having a headache, no matter where he looked, no matter how many government systems he hacked, there was nothing. Not a single piece of info, not a single paper trail on what could possibly be whats behind the wall, and when it was built.

But it's impossible for something that big to just appear out of nowhere.

So the JL had suggested looking over Illinois via satellite, the wall didn't have a roof so they should be able to see the inside.

"What the heck" Oracle cursed as she looked at the camera. "Hey RR, look at this"

"what is it?" Red Robin walked closer, coffee mug in hand.

"Somethings interfering, I can't get a view of the wall at all" she took a sip of her own coffee as she tried hacking. Emphasis on TRIED.

The batcomputer was covered in static, then turned black. After that it flashed gold with a Egyptian like gold simbol and a message.

"NU UH"

" Get wrecked ".

Suddenly whoever was On the other side started hacking the batcomputer.

It turned into a nearly 24 hour, (Oracle: does this hacker not sleep??) battle of trying to keep the hacker away from their bat systems.

It only stopped when the hacker sent a message.

"Nice as this little war was, im getting bored so bye (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

Seizing the opportunity they tried to hack in. Only to be hit with a firewall and a virus.

--------

Life was good, life was stressful but it was good for Danny.

He thought to himself as he walked towards the wall that kept them safe.

Appearantly the clan of glorified furrys tried hacking them last night. Unfortunately for them not only was Tucker incredibly good at hacking, his liminality also gave him less need for sleep so he just kept messing with them until they were exhausted.

But this little occurrence made Danny think a bit. Now that the GIW was gone and the Anti ecto acts were basically burned without a trace , there was no need to hide. There was never a need to isolate their little country in the first place.

The amity parkers are free come and go whenever they want, the wall isn't here to keep them in, it's to keep the outsiders out. The rich familys often go out, they can't just disappear from society after all, but the other amity parkers, they don't. They haven't left at all, claiming that it was better for them here as they probably won't be accepted. Just because the Anti ecto laws are gone doesn't change the fact that liminals and ghost aren't recognized as species, they were closer to myths than metas and the world, (especially the league of bitches) werent like them, they were terrified of change. So they stayed in amity.

The people just wanted to feel safe for a while, lay low until they're sure that no one would hurt them any more. But they're stronger now, better than before and more ...magical.

Danny stops waking and looks back at the town. Liminals, ghost, blobs, and humans with ghostly features from the ecto walked, talked and played together. He grinned so what if the world would have a hard time accepting them? The worlds opinion doesn't matter, destroying it or fleeing to another dimension was always a choice and his people aren't the type to back down from a fight.

Yeah, It was time to reintroduce Amity to the world. He flipped the switch and the walls portal gate opened to Gotham.

Now then? They had a plan, his people suggested he take the lead in the plan and they will follow.

The plan? The plan was to become a head ache for Bruce Wayne, aka the The Furry knight.

Rich fruitloop with a plan to takeover the business world style.

_________

Tim is stressed not only is he stressed with the whole random Illinois wall situation he's also stressing out about this random Business man that appeared out of nowhere And is competing against WE!

Okay, maybe not competing but still!! It's only been two months, TWO MONTHS since this company appeared and it was already competing for one of the richest companys in America! How?????

So he tried looking into the owner. The owner looked like about his age! Looked like a fresh 18 year old but his file says he's 25, something about slow aging that runs in the family, maybe a meta gene? But theres no way he could build a billionaire company from scratch at only 25 so hes definitely born in a rich family. Daniel Fenton, his name, a perfectly normal name. Only issue is that, THERE ARE NO BILLIONAIRE FAMILIES NAMED FENTON!.

He looked deeper, he found an interview that said he was from a country called Amity when asked where it was, he gave coordinates. Not an address, not a continent, but COORDINATES. And Guess where the coordinates led?

THE FREAKING WALL OF ILLINOIS!!!!.

This man came from the wall! Well... Most likely INSIDE the wall. But from the wall nonetheless.

So he told Bruce, and what was the best way to get a business mans attention without being suspicious?

A GALA

Tags, I'm not gonna do tags anymore, might make a masterpost so look out for that instead.

@vixen-uchiha

@sebas-nights

@whotfevenknowsanymore

@jaguarthecat

@serasvictoria02

@devilbunny612

@sumatra513

@just-lurking-dont-mind-meh

@i-love-mangoes

----

[bluegiragi]

Could we have some more Monster AU lore? Literally about anything in the universe, I really love your lore drops.

well if you insist...(jk i love talking about lore and I'm so super happy you guys let me infodump like this!!)

who wants to learn about dragons and hoards?

So a lot of people mistake hoards as the result of a dragon's passing interests but in reality (for the types of dragon that have this hoard instinct) it's an intense and obsessive compulsion.

Dragons pack a lot of firepower into a relatively dense body, and hoards give them an opportunity to put all that energy somewhere by providing for a hoard's 'needs', whatever they are. In the old times, it was most common for dragons to hoard wealth, land or knowledge but as time went on the variety in subject expanded. Now, hoards can range from innocuous/harmless topics like baseball cards to more complex subjects (like literal living beings).

The darker side to hoard instinct is how intense and possessive it is - the desire to monopolise and satisfy the needs of a hoard is all-encompassing, and it's not unheard of for dragons to go too far. Just like dating, dragons typically go through a few hoards in their lifetime (like passing hyper-fixations) before they find the one thing that'll be their hoard until they die. And after they find that one thing, the rest of their life is in some way dedicated to protecting, caring for and 'leaving their mark' on that thing. A big part of maturing for dragons is learning the self restraint required to not let these urges overtake them and turn them senseless.

Of all topics, hoards that center living beings are by far the most complex simply because living beings have agency and can't be entirely controlled. Price's hoard is the 141, and he has learned over time how to respect the lives of his boys. However, right after his and Ghost's final clash with Roba which resulted in life-changing events for both of them, he realised that he'd already subconsciously made Ghost 'hoard' in his mind.

The two of them fell into a co-dependent and borderline toxic relationship during their recovery. For Ghost, it was a combination of trauma-bonding and also a way to deal with his new powers/afflictions as a wraith. For Price, the recent loss of his wing had him falling back on other measures to help cling onto his dragon identity, and he overcompensated by going way too far on what was already a very fresh and concentrated hoard response. Of course there was still sincere affection backing up all of this, but they both ended up spiralling into something together.

It's always tough being THE hoard starter, as whatever it is will get an exorbitant response that lessens the more a hoard grows. It didn't help that Simon was in one of the most vulnerable and complicated moments of his life post-wraith-transformation. The co-dependency and possessiveness got to a point where higher-ups had to re-instate Price earlier than they wanted to and begin sending him out on missions again so that they could have some time apart. On one of those missions, Price met Gaz, and then later on, Soap.

[radioactive-mouse]

I get how tempting it is to just label flower husbands as “toxic” and move on, but god they can be SO much more nuanced than that, it makes me insane.

I think something that goes largely unexplored by the fanbase is c!scott’s obsession with composure. he’s clearly very proud of his ability to stay calm under pressure and be two steps ahead of everyone else— not that he’s afraid to rely on people, him and cleo very clearly have that unshakable trust between them, but i think that sometimes he gets so wrapped up in being steady, reliable scott, never hot-headed, never spiteful, or clumsy, or nervous.

and jimmy is a very real threat to that composure, more often than not.

and i think the way their relationship functions in 3rd life, while steady at the time, definitely set them up for complications down the road. scott, for as fiercely dedicated to his allies as he is, kind of tends to handle jimmy with kid gloves for the earlier parts of their relationship. he’s not very good at the death game, but that’s fine, he doesn’t need to be, scott will take care of it— he’ll get them set up with armor and potions and walls and jimmy can do… whatever it is he does when scott’s not around. mostly getting swindled, if he had to guess. but it’s fine, because scott can be steady, level headed, clever—

i do think most of scott’s ribbing about how he doesn’t know why he lets jimmy do anything when all he does is get scammed half the time is genuinely all in good fun, (jimmy is more than happy to play the fool most of the time, if only to bring a little bit of levity to things) it is super symptomatic of the way scott actually thinks about him. i don’t believe he thinks jimmy is actually stupid or anything, but i do think scott doesn’t quite trust him to get anything done. scott would never in a million years let himself lean on jimmy for any kind of support, because in scott’s mind jimmy’s job is to be bright and brash and only listen to that heart of his that’s too big for his body, too big for this game.

and i think too often we forget just how much losing jimmy destroyed scott in 3rd life. you ever think about how wrecked he must’ve been to place 10th despite being a consistent finalist in every other season? do you think about how all he has left is the burning, white-hot urge for revenge from the second jimmy’s body hit the ground?

i don’t think scott ever wants to feel like that again. i don’t think scott wants anyone to see him like that again. i think scott tries very hard to love jimmy from a safe distance where no one gets hurt. and i think that distance fucking kills jimmy, metaphorically speaking.

(also, tangentially related, i think there’s something to be said for how instantly tango goes “we only have a short time together, your curse will probably get us killed, and that’s fine.” and how jealous scott gets of that sentiment. as far as scott is concerned, tango and jimmy are of the same niche— they feel everything, loudly, even if it causes problems and even if it gets messy. and god that just makes his blood boil.)

i’m just so… entranced with the way scott carries himself with so much confidence and it’s not like he’s insecure, he really believes that, he’s a strong player and he knows that, but also revealing any emotion he deems to be “ugly” or “messy” makes him start to completely unravel. the driving force behind him is always love and loyalty and protectiveness over the people he cares about, but he’s juggling that with being dead set on never getting so close that losing them will completely ruin him.

anyway, this is getting away from me, but i think a lot of jimmy’s frustration with scott comes from the fact that he refuses to let their relationship go both ways, and i think by the time of the infamous “say i love you back” scene in limlife he’s just exhausted with throwing himself repeatedly against scott’s brick wall of perfectionism. that, and the whole Situation between them in double life, which i could honestly make it’s own post but good god i need to STOP typing or this will go on forever. forgive my completely disorganized ramblings i just have been trying to get all this down on paper FOREVER

[ceruleanskies48]

Mizu’s Affinities with Trans Women

While many folks have drawn parallels between Mizu’s life experiences and those of trans men (AFAB living as a man, wearing a binder, deepening her voice, adopting masculine mannerisms, etc.), an under-explored topic is her affinities with trans women. 

From as early as Mizu can remember, she was forced to hide her femininity and live as a boy. In flashbacks, we see her “Mama” forcefully shaving her head, saying she “must be a boy, always a boy,” while she sadly clutches her fallen locks of hair. Mama’s supposed death in the hut fire only further cements in her the importance of living as a boy for her safety—to protect herself from the “bad men”—and it also leads her to seek vengeance, which requires her to live as a man (as Madame Kaji says, "under the law, revenge is a luxury for men like you"). In Mizu’s conversation with Mikio, she also confirms that she didn’t want to live as a man but had no choice but to do so because of the bad men and her revenge. 

Indeed, when Mizu is briefly given the opportunity to live as a woman, she takes it. Even before her marriage to Mikio, when she was reunited with Mama, she chose to dress like a woman. She no longer needed to live as a man since (as Mama explains) the bad men believed she died in the fire, and she was no longer on her revenge quest. When Mama exhausts Mizu’s savings, it’s notable that Mizu agrees to the arranged marriage instead of going back to living as a man to make money. 

Similar to trans women, however, Mizu was not socialized to live as a woman. She initially struggles to conform to womanly roles in Edo society, like acting appropriately submissive to her husband, moving elegantly (she’s shown to be clumsy while doing chores), and cooking meals. According to the Lead Character Designer, they intentionally made her women’s clothing fit awkwardly given her height. She is also self-conscious of her looks and how she does not fit the feminine ideals of her times. She’s used to people calling her ugly (including Mama, Swordfather, and Mikio). In a cut scene from Ep. 4, Mizu tries to put her hair up and gauge whether she could be considered attractive but concludes that she cannot. She exhibits jealousy toward Akemi (more on that here) for how she epitomizes feminine beauty and privilege and judges her for not appreciating the fact that she can “have anything she wants,” including the epitome of prizes for Edo women, a marriage into the Shogunate. 

Mizu’s marriage with Mikio also exhibits parallels to the safety challenges trans women can face in romantic relationships. Despite her initial struggles, Mizu is eventually able to win Mikio’s heart, in part by suppressing her more masculine attributes. For example, she pretends to not be able to throw the knife to cut down the apple. But for a little while, she is able to live a happy life, as a woman.

Her mother told her to hide her past, but she eventually trusts Mikio enough to reveal that she was raised as a boy and lived as a man. And not only any man, but a man dedicated to the most masculine Edo pursuit of swordsmanship. The fact that Mikio seemed not only open-minded about this but eager to see “all of her,” leads her to show him her masculine side as well. Unfortunately this backfires spectacularly. He rejects her, calling her a monster. Interestingly, Mizu intuited the connection between his rejection and her gender presentation. She tried to smooth things over by putting on makeup and her wedding kimono to use her femininity to soften his heart and implicitly show her willingness to suppress her masculinity and commit wholly to being his feminine wife, but it was already too late. He leaves her to be killed by the armed men (he was also most likely the one who ratted her out: see here).

The deaths of Mikio and Mama not only mark the end of her relationships with them but also the end of her life as a woman. She concludes she has nothing left in life but her revenge quest, which necessitates her living as a man. For a brief moment, she thought she could be herself and be loved, but that dream came crashing down with betrayal and tragedy. 

All of this is why I’m personally a huge sucker for feminine Mizu moments. I find them quite subversive even though she is AFAB. I hope in Season 2 she’ll be able to spend at least some of the time living as a woman since she won’t have the bounty on her head to worry about and it might actually be easier for her to present as a woman in London accompanying Fowler. Also, it would be empowering for her to explore leveraging her femininity as power rather than having to constantly suppress it. Here’s to kick-ass Mizu in a dress! 🍻 

[seongwars]

forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”. 

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon. 

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down. 

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing. 

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret. 

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it. 

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted. 

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there. 

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim. 

Then there was Sungjae. 

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension. 

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner. 

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them. 

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed. 

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread. 

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable. 

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered. 

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger. 

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw. 

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul. 

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation. 

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms. 

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged. 

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury. 

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers. 

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him. 

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. 

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say. 

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue. 

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew. 

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you. 

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered. 

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing. 

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. 

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled. 

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached. 

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight. 

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious. 

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season. 

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him. 

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. 

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor. 

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes. 

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. 

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty. 

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his. 

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape. 

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed. 

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous. 

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice. 

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all. 

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew. 

It was you. 

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear. 

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight. 

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response. 

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do. 

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together. 

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile. 

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you. 

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

[bloodandthestars]

HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS!! Why is Miguel so beautiful.. 😭

Can I request a Miguel O’Hara x Madam-Web reader? Like maybe she’s well known for being the “Mom” on campus in the Spider-Society, with her and Miguel having a “will they, won’t they” flirty vibe going on?

And she verbally beats his fine a$s for how horrible he treated Miles (who was undoubtedly a victim of circumstance, just like most all Spider-Men) but Miguel can’t really focus on what she’s saying because he just finds her “Mama bear” attitude Hot as hell.. and she can sense it..

Reader: *blank stare*.. horny a$s vampspider~ 😒

Miguel: … 😏

Petter B: guys PLEASE! Not infront of the kids!!!

⸗ 𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄

tags: NO SPOILERS!, spouse! spanish speaking! gn reader

author’s note: hello lovie! you’re my first request ever! i hope you’ll enjoy this, since i had to tweak it due to me not seeing the movie yet and having a few ideas that made me want to write this IMMEDIATELY. translations at the bottom of the post!

wc :: 1.4k masterlist

Spider-man 2099, Miguel O’hara to differentiate him from the rest. The leader and creator of the Spider Society. In the protection of the multiverse, he’s dedicated his life to it. Unwavering, unmoving, if there was an obstacle, he intends to removes it.

“No! It’s not up for discussion.” He snaps back to the group behind him. Peter B., Miles, and Gwen follow behind him in his furious stride to his control center. His voice could echo amongst the society’s campus. Some of the spider-people wince at the boom of his voice. It was easy for them to conclude that it was another day, another problem to handle.

“Oh come on, Miguel.” Peter B. says with a groan. “It’s not a big deal. You can let him off the hook!”

“Having someone watching over like some kind of-” Gwen sputters to find her words. “-parole officer isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Well you said it, not me.” The larger man huffs, causing the trio to roll their eyes.

The doors of his control center slide open with a hiss. Miguel can’t help the scowl on his face, all the more natural with his work. He continues to walk, head turning over his shoulder to speak to them. “I told him and you, if he wants a spot back here he had to earn it-”

Miles frowns. It feels like they’ve been going in endless circles about him coming back into the society and leaving him close to exhausted. “But I-”

“Enough, he’s doing it my way or not at-”

“Uh…Miguel…?” Peter B. trails off with a finger pointing behind him.

“What-?!”

Turning to his vast data center, he stops immediately in his tracks just to practically feel his heart fall into his ass.

You had your arms crossed, a crease to mesh your brows together furiously. Peter B. grimaces at the stern look on your face, knowing it all too well from his own spouse back in his universe. Miles is surprised to witness Miguel drop his hardened expression and voice in an instant. Your husband lets go of his startled state, arms out as he walks towards you. “Dios mío- ¿mi amor? What’s with that look on your face?”

“You went after Miles?!”

The boom in your voice causes the trio to cringe back. Behind his intelligent mind that oversaw the Spider society, you were right beside him in every step. It was a large part of both of your lives, with highs and lows and plenty of difficulties. But it was for the greater good, for a connection of people who’ve been the victims of circumstances. You’d defend your fellow heroines with your heart, including from the wrath of your husband’s stubbornness. Miguel goes up the small step with a sigh. “I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for good reason.”

“Good reason? Right, go ahead. Tell me.”

“It was for protecting you! Protecting everyone!”

“At the cost of some of someone so young?!” Your tone shifts. “¡Vas a lastimar a alguien! O tú mismo!”

Miles’s wide eyes shit to the floor. Your switch reminded of his mom, going into Spanish on the phone to let others around her know that their conversation was not for them. You were more charged than her in these circumstances.

He feels eyes on him, and turns to see Peter B. and Gwen spare him a glance from their awkward stance. Peter B. motions with his head towards the couple, eyes darting back and forth with an muffled cough. Miles eventually gives in and sighs. “…they’re saying that he could have gotten someone hurt, or himself.”

“¡No, no lo estoy! El destino del-” Miguel implores.

You groan. “I swear to God if you mention-”

“-the fate of the universe-“ The three spider people behind him join you in unison.

“-one more time-”

The two of you drone on for a bit, with Miles trying his best to whisper translations to Gwen and Peter B.

“This is serious stuff, [name]. And I mean that with my body and soul.” Miguel grabs both your hands at his emphasis, holding them gently despite your heated discussion. “Eres mi vida, él lo puso en riesgo.”

Miles’s eyes go down to the floor, eyes saddened along with his voice. “He said I put them at risk.”

Peter B. and Gwen soften, eyes going back to you both. You look at your hands together. Gold bands shined in the various blues and reds of the room, the diamond on your ring leaving fluorescent reflection on skin. He watched as your lips press together. You look up to him, “He wouldn’t do it on purpose.”

“You don’t know that-we didn’t know that-“

You shake your head, snatching your hands away to point a finger in his face. “No zip it, Miguel!”

He leans back with his eyes wide. The others react in shock as well as you fall back into Spanish to speak to your husband. Peter B. didn’t need a translator to know the man was being reprimanded, cringing back when your emphasis got aggressive. Gwen looks to him, then to Miles— too speechless to keep translating. Peter B. looks to Miguel, slowly squinting at his demeanor. The longer you spoke, the shock dissipated into something else. His eyes were softer, arms holding one another as he leaned further to listen. You didn’t take notice, still chewing him out.

“-esto es ridículo, Miguel! Eres un hombre maduro, no tienes que actuar así. ¿No crees que puede haber un malentendido?”

When you ask him the tantalizing question, he’s in a moment of pause. The man takes a step further to you. You look at him with unwavering eyes, expecting another long speech about your protection that you were all too familiar with. Instead, his fingers curl to brush under your chin, voice dropping to speak to you. “Eres guapa cuando estás enfadada.”

You’re beautiful when you’re angry. Your eyes widen, heat creeping up your back. Was he even listening to a word you said? You know he wouldn’t just ignore you or your opinions. It only took you a minute to realize that distant look on his face the whole time was to focus on your lips as you spoke. Your brows furrow, muttering to him in attempts to hold on to your reprimand. “…No cambies de tema.”

Don’t change the subject. He gives you a slight smile. With a tilt of his head, Miguel brushes his fingers under your chin again, stepping closer. “¿Por qué, no cuando cada uno de mis pensamientos gira en torno a ti?”

You give him a look, though your shoulders loose their tension. “Cabrón descarado…”Despite your words, the ends of your lips quirk up without thinking. His smirk only widens at the sight. “Y todo el tuyo también.”

Peter B. looks between you both with an expression of confusion. Weren’t you just- fighting? He takes his attention to the way you both look at each other. His brows loosen, raising to the sky when the realization hits. Turning to Miles and Gwen, he grabs both their shoulders and turn them around. The pair are forced to walk towards the entrance, eyes in a perpetually widened state.

“Alright!” The father explains. “Time to go, yep, let’s just-”

“But what about-”

Peter hunches down to aggressively whisper to them. “Guys. This is a free get out of jail card.” His head drops for a moment before looking back up. “A scarring one but nonetheless.”

Miguel thought them as out of sight and out of mind, eyes attentive to your frustrated look. How could he pays attention anything else with the way you got? The determination in your eyes and voice, how you would step to him knowing that many rarely could. You were passionate and he’d fall for it every time. The man wouldn’t have anyone else with him. He understood your words, took them in, but god did your lips too good not to take.

Your lips were captured in a plush embrace, eyes fluttering shut when he does so. The fingers under your chin turn to cup your cheek. Your hand goes to his side to invite him to come closer. Tension in your body left in an instant. Your husband lets out a soft sigh, mind enthralled in your presence. He pulls away with a slow blink of his eyes. Your eyes open, your smile now soft.

“Esto no ha terminado.” You mutter with a hand on top of his, thumb brushing over the back of it.

He chuckles darkly, caressing your cheek with a look in his eye. “Cuento con eso.”

translations: “¡vas a lastimar a alguien! o tú mismo!” (you could have gotten someone hurt! or yourself!)

“¡no, no lo estoy! el destino del-” (no i’m not! the fate of the-)

“eres mi vida, él lo puso en riesgo.” (you are my life, he put that at risk.)

“-esto es ridículo, Miguel! Eres un hombre maduro, no tienes que actuar así. ¿No crees que puede haber un malentendido?” (this is ridiculous, Miguel! you are a grown ass man, you don’t have to act like this. don’t you think there may be a misunderstanding?)

“¿por qué, no cuando cada uno de mis pensamientos gira en torno a ti?” (why not when each of my thoughts revolve around you?)

“cabrón descarado…” (cheeky bastard...), “y todo el tuyo también.” (and all yours too.)

“esto no ha terminado.” (this isn’t over), “cuento con eso.” (i’m counting on that)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows @deputy-videogamer @vegas-writing-den @m150-50up

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 4

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, breast play, humping, slight somnophilia, switch!reader, switch!beomgyu, mentions of past rape, yandere!beomgyu, reader gaslighting herself

He is lying on his side with his arms wrapped around you, staring at you, while you lay on your back, one hand on his arm draped over your chest and your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been lying like this since your alarm went off, waking you so you can start getting ready for work, though you think Beomgyu may have been awake even earlier. 

Your middle finger traces a small line over a vein on the back of his arm, feeling the warmth there as if you can feel his life’s blood. His grip on you is steady, confident, and he never takes his eyes off you. 

“Don’t you get tired of it?” You ask softly, voice heavy with sleep. You don’t elaborate on what you mean, and Beomgyu doesn’t ask for it. 

“No.” Comes his quick reply. ”Because just being here with you like this… It makes it all worth it.” 

You finally turn to look at him, and your heart swells up in your chest. You love him so much. Despite everything, you love him.  

“Call in sick for me.” You tell him and he jumps at the opportunity, not hesitating for a second. He grabs your phone and dials your work, making up some bullshit story about you being sick and needing to stay home. You’re usually a dedicated worker despite the grief Beomgyu brings you–because of the grief Beomgyu brings you. The harder he makes it for you, the more you want to hold onto your job because it gives you independence from him and prevents you from being completely codependent on each other the way you know he desires and the way you find yourself secretly wishing you were when things get very tough and all you can think about is being wrapped up by him, protected and cared for and safe from the horrible, cruel world that causes you so much pain and suffering. Because why go out there to fight every day when you can be with him and let him take care of everything? 

But then you force yourself to push these thoughts away and act like a grown-up because despite your immense love for Beomgyu, you're not stupid enough to hang your entire future on a man in this day and age. Yes, he loves you but you’re sure all the women who made that mistake before you were also in love. Or at least you like to think you're not that stupid…But for today you’ll let him win. For today you’ll see what the alternative is. 

Beomgyu ends the call with your boss with a toothy smile on his face. He looks excited, like you’ve given him the best present ever and he jumps back in to take you in his arms, kissing the side of your face. 

“What do you want to do today?” He asks and you shrug, throwing the question back to him. “What do you want to do?” 

“I just want to be with you.” He admits and your heart clenches. 

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving” You tell him and he’s so excited he doesn’t even whine at your lack of reply to his loving proclamation. 

________________________________

Beomgyu makes sure to make the food for you. He keeps apologizing for not having a lot of materials to work with and lamenting the fact that he can’t make this dish or that dish as if you were expecting some extravagant feast. 

“Beomgyu, it’s just breakfast.” You reassure him but he shakes his head. “I want to give you the best. Do you want to go eat out? There is this really good restaurant 20 minutes away.” 

When he tells you the name of the restaurant, you frown. “Isn’t that place really expensive?” 

He shrugs. “Only the best for my princess.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t need something fancy, Beomgyu. Pancakes are fine.”

He frowns at that, seemingly upset that you don’t want the expensive restaurant. What’s the deal with him? Sometimes you think he dislikes that you don’t want him to spend his money on you. 

Still, in order to make him stop fretting, you say, “Being with you is enough.”  

That makes him light up, and he is suddenly content with pancakes too. 

“It looks nice outside. Maybe we can pack up some lunch and go for a picnic?” You suggest and he perks up even more. “Yeah. We've got some cold cuts I can make into sandwiches and we can grab some cupcakes or muffins on the way.” 

He sounds very excited about getting to spend the day like this with you and it makes you both happy that you've made him so excited by such a small thing but also sad that he has probably been feeling a bit neglected by you recently as you pulled away from him due to everything that’s going on with the dreams and Taehyun.

Well, today you'll make it up to him. Today, you'll set all your worries aside and just enjoy the day with your loving boyfriend. 

“Sounds good.” 

___________________________________

Beomgyu made way too much food for the picnic and he insisted on preparing everything all by himself, wanting to pamper you. Maybe he himself also feels guilt over not stopping when you asked him to but in a way that makes you feel even worse. He didn’t know that you were serious and you’re no stranger to playfully whining for the other to stop when you’re messing around–even you have done it to him before–so you understand why he didn’t immediately stop. He must feel awful about it. You may be having issues with Beomgyu but that doesn’t mean that he would ever hurt you in that way. You’re his entire life and it's unfair to him to be having these disturbing thoughts, even if you can't control them. 

Maybe you just need to agree on a safe word so this doesn’t happen again… if you can even get yourself to get over your irrational trepidation every time you think about having sex with him now that is. 

“Beomgyu, I can feed myself.” You roll your eyes when he tries to put a sandwich to your mouth and push his hand away, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu at the action. For some reason, the most random actions you or Beomgyu do feel like something you’ve done before. Every moment feels like you’ve lived it before and it’s freaking you out. You secretly worry that you’re losing your mind. 

He pouts, looking deflated at the small rejection. “I know. I just want to take care of you.” 

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You say again and he puts the food down, looking even more dejected at that. 

You sigh and open your arms. “Come here, Gyu.”

He eagerly gets into your embrace, laying his head down on your chest and letting you wrap your arms around him. 

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his scent and feeling it soothe your anxiety like a healing balm. “I don't need all of this. I just need you. The you that I love, and not this crazy possessive guy that scares me.” 

“And I only ever want you.” He looks up at you, his eyes sad. “If I can be sure that you'll only ever be mine, I wouldn't act so crazy.” 

You want to argue with him, get angry that he's asking you to prove your loyalty to him as if you had cheated on him, but you also know that what you feel for Taehyun isn't completely innocent and it would be hypocritical of you to act like his worries are completely irrational. 

You sigh, looking at the park around you. You were at one of your favorite parts by the lake. Though it is a little hard to enjoy with so many people around, kids screaming and guys jokingly cussing each other out. You wish it would just be you and Beomgyu here. 

“You know these grounds once belonged to the royal family.” You tell Beomgyu, “Imagine having all this beauty to yourself. Wouldn't that have been wonderful?”

“I suppose so.” He mumbles unenthusiastically but you keep going. “Their lives must've been so easy. Eating good food, dressing in fancy clothes, sipping tea in their huge ass gardens…”

“I'm sure they had their struggles.” Beomgyu interjects and you snort. “Yeah right. Their struggles of where to spend all that money.”

“They didn't control their own decisions. They were trapped in what everyone else expected of them. They didn't choose what to wear, who to hangout with, what they want to do with their lives or even who to marry.”

Beomgyu's sudden speech gives you pause. “Damn I didn't know you were so passionate about royal life.”

Is he saying that because he wants to discourage you from talking about the prince dreams again? Well, you weren’t planning to mention them to him anymore, not after how twisted and ugly they’re become. 

He falters, seeming to realize how odd it was for him to get worked up over your silly complaints. “It's just… things aren't always what they seem.” 

“I suppose. I mean I hear that their lives were filled with deceit and betrayal, like killing each other for power and shit. I'd rather be poor and alive, thanks.” You finally say to lighten up the mood and he smiles, thankfully playing along. “I want you alive too.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “I admit it's not one of my best lines.” 

“Well, good thing I got you some love poems to learn from.” You declare, pulling out the book you brought along to the picnic. 

“You just want to hear my sexy ass voice narrating your favorite poems.” He calls you out and you don’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. What, I can't take advantage of my sexy boyfriend?” 

“You can take advantage of me all you want, baby.” He says greasily and you pretend to gag. “Stick to the poems, loverboy. Don't waste your voice on these corny lines.” 

“Yes, princess.” He grins, grabbing the book from your hand and flopping his head on your lap so you can play with his hair while he reads your favorite poems.

Sitting there, with the love of your life in your arms, his deep voice reading out words of love and longing from the most gifted poets and writers of the world, you feel lucky. How could you not when those words that have moved millions over decades and centuries, driving them to long for a love just like that, feel like your reality. 

The love you have with Beomgyu is what those poems are written about. Yes, it can be dark and scary, but it can also be so, so beautiful. Just like now, with him sneaking glances at you in between every proclamation of love and adoration he reads off, as if his eyes can’t help but jump to you at every reminder, seeking the sight of the exact love they’re reading about.   

Yes, doing this was the right choice. You feel so happy and content right now, the sunshine beaming down at the both of you and warming up your skin can’t even compete with the internal warmth and love you feel holding Beomgyu at this moment. This is perfect. This is where you belong. And this is just what he’s trying to make sure lasts right? He acts crazy sometimes because he knows this love is too rare and special to lose, right? 

But the feeling of peace and happiness doesn’t last forever, and an unexpected gloom arrives in the form of one of your favorite poems–Annabelle Lee. Sure, it’s a sad and deeply moving poem but you didn’t anticipate the way it was going to affect Beomgyu. 

It all starts off normally, his rich voice setting the perfect tone for the beautiful poem as you play with his soft locks, running them through the fingers of one hand while the other gently massages his scalp. 

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

You smile to yourself as you look down at Beomgyu. It’s funny how that’s just what you were thinking–that all that matters is the love you share between the two of you. You bend down to press a kiss to his forehead, and giggle at the way he unconsciously lifts his head up to get closer to your lips. 

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

Then he hesitates, pausing as he reaches the last line, and you have to nudge him gently to get him to keep going. You see his eyebrows knit together in a perturbed frown but he continues for you. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

You try to smoothen the lines that formed between Beomgyu’s thick eyebrows but even another kiss to the troubled lines are of no use as his focus was now entirely on the book in front of him. His anxiety was palpable and infectious, and a strange sense of doom creeps up on your protective bubble. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Beomgyu's voice turned hoarse and patchy as he carried on, and you feel a prickling at the back of your throat as a profound and all consuming grief that you've never felt before and don’t think you have the capacity to contain threatens to engulf you. You hold onto him tighter, suddenly terrified. It’s silly. You’ve read this poem more times than you can remember, and sure it always moved you and made you sad, but it never caused you such gut-wrenching pain as it was doing right now. Whatever misery the poem was triggering in Beomgyu was transferring directly to you through your skin and suddenly the poet was Beomgyu and you were Anabelle Lee–he’d lost you and you can only sit there and watch him suffer and waste away as he cries over you. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beomgyu's voice breaks completely as he utters ‘my life and my bride’ and by the time he finishes the poem, he is openly crying. You’re crying too, and hugging him tightly to you. You’re sure you’re both making quite the spectacle of yourselves but you don’t care. You hold him so tightly your fingers turn white and numb, and he does the same. The sense of loss that is filling you up is so intense and vivid, it's as if you've lived it. You’re scared that if you let him go, you’ll be taken away from him just like in the poem. 

“Why–” He sobs into your chest, his cries rattling your already injured heart. “Why did they have to be ripped apart?” 

“I don't know, baby.” You bend down to kiss his sweet lips, not really knowing what to say but wishing to calm him down–calm yourself down and try to shake off the irrational fear that something like this is going to happen to you. “Sometimes life is just cruel.” 

“No. I can't accept that.” He says resolutely, sitting up to face you and reaching out to hold your face in his hands. “Promise you'll never let anyone or anything take you away from me.”

“Beomgyu–” 

“Please…” His voice shudders as he tries to speak through his tears. “I can't lose you.” 

“Oh, baby.” You sigh, reaching out to wipe the sparkling tears off his face. Oh, how you'll say and do anything for this beautiful boy. 

“I promise.”

_______________________________

When you get back to work the following day, Taehyun corners you in the back room as soon as he gets the chance. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice and you look at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?” 

“You called in sick yesterday.” His eyes narrow, already suspicious. 

“Oh, right.” You remember Beomgyu calling in sick for you, and you try to brush off his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

But Taehyun doesn’t let your small slip up pass, now probably convinced there was some malicious reason behind your absence. “Are you sure? Beomgyu didn’t do anything weird, did he?” 

His question pisses you off, perhaps because you already feel so guilty towards Beomgyu for your unjustifiable aversion to being physical to him because of your dreams, but you certainly don’t want Taehyun to think Beomgyu is abusing you or something. “No, he didn’t. He took care of me all day yesterday.” You say sharply and Taehyun winces, realizing he has gotten off on the wrong foot with you and that you’re no longer tolerant of him denigrating your boyfriend’s image to you. 

“I’m sorry.” He quickly backs down, which is unusual for him, and you feel a twinge of sorrow for going off on him like that. He was just worried about you, but still, he was inadvertently part of the reason you and Beomgyu are having issues and you can’t help but feel frustrated and resentful about that.

“Whatever.” You try to brush him off and get back to the main work area but he is not done talking. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He goes on, stopping you in your tracks and you sigh. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “No, you shouldn’t have.”  

"Can we start over?" 

You stare at him, seeing the hope in his eyes and it brings you nothing but pain. “I’m not sure we can.” 

Maybe in another world you and Taehyun may have been something–in a world where you met him before you met Beomgyu, maybe. But you would be acting wilfully ignorant if you went back to your budding friendship with Taehyun. Because you know it upsets Beomgyu. Because you know it wouldn’t be just an innocent friendship and that there is more at play here. You need to nip it all in the bud before it grows out of control and suffocates your actual, real relationship with Beomgyu. 

You’re loyal to your boyfriend. Whatever strange and inexplicable feelings you hold for Taehyun should be abandoned and forgotten, and they can’t be if you keep being such buddies-buddies with him. 

His face falls at your response and you think you can detect an edge of anger to his voice. Why the hell is he angry? He has no right to be upset with you for setting boundaries in order to protect your relationship. “I was out of line. I get it. I swear it won’t happen again.” 

“It can't.” You affirm, getting angry yourself. “I'm dating Beomgyu. I love Beomgyu.”

Though Taehyun is usually good at managing his facial expressions, you can clearly see the way his face twists in pain at your proclamation. This is exactly why you have to stay away from each other. 

“I know that.” He says through gritted teeth. “Believe me I don’t want to be having these feelings as much as you do, but I can’t control it. There is something drawing us together and I know you can feel it too.” 

“Oh, come on, Taehyun, now you sound delusional like me.” You scoff, berating yourself as much as him. You’ve let this delusion get too far. “Next thing you’ll be saying you’re having dreams of us in a past life too.” 

“Don’t mock me.” He scowls, the hurt still plainly clear on his face no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it with his unjustifiable temper. 

You sigh again. This is not a fight you want to get into. It’s over. You have to end this. “I am not mocking you. But I can’t let whatever this is ruin what I have with the man I love.” 

At that, Taehyun turns and walks away wordlessly, and a deep wound opens up in your chest as you watch him leave. You do your best to ignore it. Just as suddenly and inexplicably these feelings developed for Taehyun, you’re sure they will pass away and everything will return back to normal. This is all just a result of the doubts that have been plaguing you about Beomgyu. It’s just your mind coming up with weird feelings and scenarios that mean nothing. Soon enough, you and Beomgyu will be living in mutual bliss like before and you’ll forget about this whole nightmare. 

_______________________________

Beomgyu is holding back. You can see it. He tries to keep his desires in check so he doesn't hurt you again without meaning to. He doesn’t want to rush you but you can tell he is suffering. 

You can feel the way he reluctantly pulls away when his kisses get heated. You can see the way he averts his eyes when you wear something too revealing around the house. You can hear him when he sneaks to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself. 

And you can definitely feel it now in the way his unconscious body ruts against yours in his sleep. 

“Beomgyu…” You call out, mouth dry as you feel his cock grinding against your ass. 

“Princess…” He moans at the sound of you calling his name, his hips driving into your ass harder, still asleep. “Need you…”

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected too. You need him too. Your body naturally reacts to his, panties already getting wet as his bulge grinds between your legs. But you still haven’t been able to shake those disturbing images and feelings out of your head completely, especially not when he calls you princess. The word now carries an unexpected negative association for you.  

“Princess, please…” He cries in your ear, his fingers digging into your stomach. “Oh god, please.”

It makes you feel so fucking guilty to hear how desperate and needy he sounds, unconscious and unable to hold himself back like has been doing so many times recently. You want so bad to help. You want to push him on his back and ride his cock until he’s satiated and happy like he always gets when you fuck him, but you’re not sure you can. 

“Wake up.” You urge him, torn between the heat gathering in your belly and the suffocating feeling of being trapped in his hold. You want to help him–you want to help yourself–but you’re fucking scared that it would trigger those horrific images once again. 

But Beomgyu only whines and drives his hips into your harder. “My princess…”

“Beomgyu, wake up.” You call out once again, much more firmly this time, and he finally jolts awake, sitting up so he’s now hovering over you and checking you over. 

“Wha–what?” His first instinct is to make sure you’re safe and unharmed, looking over your body and touching you slightly all over to confirm you’re not injured. Then the confusion comes in–why do you have that look on your face?--but that only lasts a few seconds before the realization finally kicks in and his face crumbles in dismay. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I've just been–”

“Needy? Yeah, I can feel that.” You push your thigh between his legs, trying to push away your unwanted feelings. He was so panicked about you being hurt that it all just makes you feel that much more guilty. Beomgyu would never hurt you. It was all in your head, and you want to get rid of it. You want to allow yourself to feel the love of your boyfriend again. 

“Oh, princess, I missed you so much.” He falls right into it, humping your leg just like you expected. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so weak.” 

“Aw, puppy…” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face so you can take a good look at the pathetic look on his face that you love so much. It sends a fucking jolt of electricity down to your already heated core. 

“It has barely been a couple of weeks.” You reprimand as if your panties weren’t rapidly getting wet right now. But Shame isn’t in Beomgyu’s vocabulary anyway. “A couple of weeks of having you right next to me and not being able to touch you. It was torture.” 

He pushes your nightshirt up and buries his face in your tits. You almost laugh, of course this would be the first thing the pervert does. Except what comes out of your mouth are not laughs but moans as his mouth quickly finds one of your nipples to wrap around. 

“Fuck, I missed these tits.” He mumbles, voice muffled as he continues to kiss and suck all over your breasts, making your back arch up into his touch and small whines escape your lips. 

“Good boy, gyu.” You whine, fingers pulling ruthlessly at his hair that you’re usually so careful and gentle with as he pulls your other nipple in his mouth and sucks harshly. Your hips thrust up against his body as you seek some relief from the liquid heat dripping out of you. 

He quickly notices and one of his hands sneaks between your legs to cup your soaked panties. He pulls off your nipples with an obscene pop, smirking cockily. “Looks like I'm not the only needy one here.”

You can't do anything but bite your lip as his palm kneads your sensitive pussy, your teeth tearing into the soft skin as you try to hold in your own needy moans. But Beomgyu doesn’t like that. He uses his other hand to pull your lip away from your teeth and push his thumb in so he has your mouth open and nothing in the way of the salacious noises he craves. 

“Beomgyu…” You slur, struggling to talk with his thumb pushing down on your tongue but it's clear from the way you push your pussy further against his hand what you want. 

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” He asks, his eyes raking up and down from your flushed face to your exposed tits as you arch your body up, seeking your high against his hand. 

“Uh-huh.” Drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth that is still held open by Beomgyu before he finally removes his thumb from your mouth and uses it to flick and pull at your perked nipple.

That extra bit of stimulation makes you cry and jolt as your orgasm comes crashing down like a wave onto your poor deprived body. If your panties were wet before, you're sure that now they've drenched and staining the sheets under you. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He focuses on your face as the embarrassingly wet sounds of him continuing to palm your pussy through it all fill the room. 

He doesn't stop until after your body is no longer convulsing and just settling into a sluggish tremble as your slack open mouth lets out small, hoarse moans. 

Finally he stops, bending down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into open mouth and his hand wrapping around your jaw to get you to wrap your lips around it. You sluggishly respond, your mind still blank from the intense pleasure you just experienced. You didn’t even realize how much you'd missed his touch until now. 

But it's not over yet. You may have gotten what you needed but he is still as needy as he was before–even more so after the little show you put on for him, and you can feel exactly how much when pulls your soaked panties to the side to press his bare cock against your pussy. 

But as soon as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, your body seizes up in terror and your mind goes into overdrive with image after image of that horrible nightmare. 

“No!” You shriek, trying to close your legs and push him away but you can't because he's lying between your legs and you only succeed in pulling him closer to you which freaks you out even more and you start sobbing. “No. Please, no.”

“What? What happened? What did I do?” He freaks out too. It must be such a whiplash for him. Everything was going so well and he probably doesn't understand what caused your sudden breakdown, but it's not like you can explain it to him when you don't even understand it yourself. 

All you know is that you don’t want him to stop so you just cry and shake your head. “Don't. Please, don't.” 

The blood drains from his face as he helplessly watches you descend further and further into this unprovoked mental break. “Baby, what's wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

He tries to reach out to calm you down but you finally manage to push him off you and scramble off the bed. “Stay away.” 

You pull your night shirt down to cover yourself. You feel disgusted, tainted, used. Why is this happening to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Princess, please. Talk to me.” He pleads, and you can see his fists clutching tightly onto the bedsheets in order to hold himself back from leaping off the bed and taking you in his arms like you know he is dying to. That's his natural response. It's what his body and heart compel him to do. When you're hurt and in pain, that's what he does–he holds you, kisses you, comforts you, reassures you until you forget everything that has hurt you because nothing in heaven or on earth can get through him. He would never let anything hurt you. But how can he do that when he's the one who is hurting you? How can he protect you from himself? 

“You're killing me, baby.” He weeps, distraught and not knowing what to do with himself when he doesn’t even know how he's hurt you. “Please, please, tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

How can you say it? It's too cruel. If he's upset and miserable now, you don't want to think about what he'd be like if you revealed to him that the reason you have been withdrawing from him and reacting so negatively to his touch was because of the terrible disgusting images your fucked up brain decided to randomly conjure up and that he had no control over. It wasn't his fault and you were basically treating him like a rapist. 

But Beomgyu will not let it go. How can he when he can't even touch you without you reacting like he had burned you? He has to know. He deserves to know it's not his fault. 

“It's… the dreams.” You start, finding it difficult to talk through your parched throat. Your eyes flutter all over his face, searching for the smallest reaction to your words. You know he won't take it well–and you can't blame him. This is why he was so wary of the dreams. He didn't want them to infect your real life and now they have completely infested your brain. 

“I had an awful dream that you… that you..” You break down crying again. You don't want to say it. You don't want to break him twice. The worst thing is that they weren’t even just dreams anymore. It was like you were recalling actual memories. They come to you while you’re fully awake now. There is no escape and you don’t know what to do. 

“That I what?” He asks, voice so shallow with fear that it's barely a whisper. 

“That you… forced yourself on me.” You finally say it and the color drains completely from Beomgyu's face. “I tried so hard to push those images away. I know you would never do that to me but every time we touch–”

“I got it.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear anymore. Beomgyu never shuts you up. He always wants to hear you talk–to hear every thought that crosses your mind. He soaks them all up whether good or bad. This is the first time he's ever had enough and that scares you more than anything. Is this how you ruin your relationship? Is this the final straw?

“Oh god, Beomgyu, I'm sorry.” You can hardly see through your tears so you walk closer to him, your need to be comforted by him, to know he still loves you, finally overpowering the heinous images in your brain. 

But your heart rips in half when Beomgyu flinches away from your touch. “Don't.” 

“I'm sorry.” You repeat, holding your arms out slightly from your body, waiting for Beomgyu to slot his own between them where they belong, selfishly needing him to make you feel better about everything when you’re the one who hurt him. “I'll do better. I will force myself to get through this. Just please…”

“Okay.” Beomgyu replies emotionlessly and gets off the bed and away from you. 

“Where are you going?” You ask him, terrified. “Are you leaving? I'm sorry, I swear. Forget about everything I said. I'll do whatever you want, just please–”

You walk towards him, reaching out to grab the top of his pants, intent on doing anything to make him stay but he pushes you off, disgust etched on his face. “No. Don't touch me.”

You knew those words hurt him when you said them to him before but you couldn't have imagined just how much, but as you stand now with those same words directed at you, it takes every fiber of you being not to hunch over from the agony they inflict on you. You never thought those wretched words would ever come out of Beomgyu's mouth–no, not your Beomgyu. And it's all your fault. 

“Please, don't leave me.” You cry, and Beomgyu looks at you in shock. “Leave? I told you I would never leave you.”

That brings you some comfort, but it's not complete as he continues to stand far away from you, and you make sure to tell him as much. 

“Then come hold me.” You ask petulantly. Is it hypocritical of you to demand physical closeness from him when you had before pushed him away when he was in your shoes? Yes, but you don't care. You just want him to stay and put your heart back together before you bleed out. 

“I need space. I need to think.” He says and you shake your head resolutely. “There is nothing to think about. I want you to stay.”

He gives you a smile so ingenuine it looked more like a grimace. “I'll see you in the morning.” 

“Don't walk out on me, Beomgyu.” You tell him, a threatening edge to your voice. Threatening what? You don't know. What are you going to do, sulk until he comes back? 

And he knows it too because he just shakes his head and tells you to get some sleep before he walks out. You scream after him, probably waking up all the neighbors but you don't care.

“Beomgyu! Come back! You're just gonna leave me here like this, you fucking asshole?” You scream and scream until your throat raw but he doesn’t come back, and with the last bit of your energy spent on your screams, you crumble to the ground and curl up into a ball–your knees pressed up to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them–trying to staunch off your hemorrhaging heart as your world falls away around you. 

_________________________________________

A/N: this will always remain my comfort fic despite how dark it can be. i will never get over this. anyway let me know your thoughts and depending on the result of this poll, the next chapter may be the last one or there will be one more chapter.

[mareastrorum]

I hope that having the Mighty Nein around helps the cast help each other with the stagnant parts of Bell’s Hells character arcs.

The Hells are not good at communicating with each other about their faults. Enter Jester, Veth, and Caduceus, who absolutely will call people out on shit without shame or malice.

The Hells have a narrow view of religion. Here’s Yasha, whose god helped her break away from an apocalyptic cult; Caduceus, who was raised in a religious household and likes helping people even when they don’t share his faith; Fjord, who found peace and self-acceptance with guidance from a goddess who asks so little of him; Jester, who somehow has cleric powers from her fey best friend whom she also carries around as her weasel sometimes; and Beau, who doesn’t worship Ioun outright, but still thinks she’s not bad and seeks out a connection at times.

The Hells don’t much care about other people when they talk about what the world should be like. Here’s Caleb, who wanted to turn back time, then got Wish and could do it literally any day he pleased, but has accepted that in order to change from the boy who was willing to kill his parents, he has to be the man that won’t break the world to bring them back. Beau accepted that people can be flawed in how they love, but she couldn’t let that decide whether she or anyone else is worth love or protection; her whole job is about trying to help the people of the Empire when systems don’t care about them. Fjord handed over an eye of Uk’otoa to save Jester’s life, and then immediately got the Nein back together to defeat Uk’otoa rather than let other people suffer the consequences for his choice.

The Hells were sympathetic to the All-Minds-Burn and only really balked at the Weave Mind because there was a controlling group at the top instead of a regular hive mind. Here’s the team that destroyed Cognouza because it turns out hive minds are a great way for despots to directly control a lot of people and use them like resources. Yasha and Caleb also have profound experience with mind control, conditioning, and memory wiping.

The Hells have some serious identity issues that haven’t been addressed because there’s just no time. (Ashton was an aasimar turned into a genasi; Laudna was treated like a Vex voodoo doll by a wizard who hates Vex; Fearne was conceived and sought specifically to be an exaltant vessel for Predathos; Imogen was hidden to avoid that.) Veth was turned into a goblin by a hag, was racist against goblins for years, eventually realized that her racism came from self-hatred for traits she shared with a specific goblin tribe, and got turned back into a halfling thanks to the dedication of her friends. Fjord wrestled with determining who he was before realizing he had to choose, and that didn’t mean there was a right or wrong choice; just that he couldn’t be someone else.

Like, the Nein would be great for some targeted discussion of these points if the Hells let their judgmental bullshit shine through at any point. It’s just a question of whether (a) the cast want to and put in the effort to do that, and (b) how much time they have to spare for those conversations.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person in possession of a good blorbo must be in want of art of that blorbo. And on this front, I have suffered because there is really no Háma art out there despite the fact that he’s rad. (I won’t bore you all again with all of the reasons why he’s the best, but you can find that here.) So I asked @rinthecap to draw me a lovely and handsome Háma, and they delivered in the best possible way!!! Here’s my guy, with a lot on his mind as he watches his king slowly lose his grip on reality, but always at the ready to jump into the fray and help.

I love ALL of Rincap’s art, which you should definitely all go check out if you haven’t, and am extremely grateful for this beautiful and necessary contribution to a world that was severely lacking in Háma representation! ♥️♥️♥️ His face, his armor, his hair, it’s all aces!

And here, for good measure, is my Háma headcanon:

His father was the royal armorer in Edoras, and his mother worked alongside him; he did the metal work, and she handled leather. Little Háma grew up around their workshop, playing quietly in the back or listening to his mother tell stories while she stitched together vambraces or gloves. As he got older, he helped his parents with simple tasks, like linking rings for chainmail. When a mailcoat he worked on saved Théoden from a Dunlendish arrow and the king himself came by to thank young Háma, he nearly burst with pride. He knew right then that he wanted to dedicate his life to protecting the king and made it his goal to be captain of his guard someday.

Háma’s father was severely injured in a workshop accident not long after, and everyone marveled at how quickly he apparently recovered and was able to keep turning out work. What they didn’t know is that Háma’s mother took over most of the business, having learned metal crafting over the many years of work alongside her husband. They didn’t tell anyone who was actually making the pieces because they weren’t sure anyone would wear armor made entirely by a woman, but Háma knew, of course, and it filled him with both pride and frustration to hear people heap praise on his mother’s work while attributing it all to his father.

While he was working his way up through the ranks of the guards, Háma met and fell in love with Bryttalif, a midwife in Edoras. Brytta was herself pregnant and unmarried when they met, so she was viewed as a little scandalous. But they hit it off right away and he really didn’t care about town gossip or what other people had to say because she was just the sort of kind and gentle-hearted person that he was. The scandal was eventually forgotten because Háma and Brytta got married, which gave the whole situation a sheen of acceptability. He adopted her daughter Halwinë as his own and was absolutely crazy about her–Middle Earth’s truest Girl Dad. Brytta was pregnant with their second child when Háma was killed at Helm’s Deep. It was a boy she named Wilspell (“welcome news”).

Háma’s sword was recovered from outside the gate of the Hornburg after his death and was thereafter always used by the captain of the king’s guard, being transferred from person to person as part of a little ceremony whenever a new captain was appointed.

He was buried in armor his mother made.

[m6rija]

⟡ ⠀hold me tight⠀⠀⊹⠀⠀ soshiro hoshina & you

gn, flower shop owner reader who deals with depression and anxiety. hurt/comfort, a bit of angst maybe. this is the part 1 of my scaredy cat series.

what you had achieved so far slipped through your fingers like fine sand, swallowed up, swept away by greedy waves of poisonous distress, almost like ivy, choking your laments as they hugged your throat.

the prelude to a chain of events that would almost push you over the edge in front of the person you most admired— you felt so weak and ashamed.

the piece of paper was lying in front of you, sharing a place next to your friend's results.

your expression bordered on sadness even though you had passed just as he had, lips pressed into a thin line

you thought you didn't deserve it

and soshiro looked at you worriedly

he took your hand gently and even dared to intertwine his fingers with yours for brief instants

he ran the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand.

"sorry…"

you mumbled in an almost inaudible whisper.

you knew how hard he had worked to get here, how many sleepless nights had passed in which he had dedicated himself to training

how he woke up almost every day only to pick up the sword

how his hands were calloused, rough to the touch from gripping the weapon so tightly for so long

but you thought you lacked the same spark that he did

and that you were just following him without any purpose beyond accompanying him in his dream.

even if that were so, you would be useless as his companion.

you couldn't protect others, you were incapable of fighting and you felt useless compared to most others.

so why did you decide to accept your friend's proposal to take the exams for the defense forces together?

perhaps it was because of how enthusiastic he seemed to be when he told you about his plan.

how his smile spread across his face and his eyes took on the shape of little crescents

he seemed so cheerful talking to you, convincing you to hold his hand if you became nervous during the exam

your lower lip trembled with insecurity as you realized that you just didn't want to disappoint him

you were afraid to see his dissapointed face

because you wanted to live up to his expectations

however, the silent, disconsolate sob you barely managed to utter was proof enough of how much you demanded of yourself, and how it didn't seem to be nearly enough for you to live up to the man in front of you.

you didn't deserve the results etched in ink that went hand in hand with your name, much less could you allow your racing heartbeat to be the cause of your fractured smile that came before your tears.

because you were happy to have passed, but you could not accept it.

there were people much better suited for this job than you— and you even assured yourself that you would fail the next exam.

so if you were so fervent in your claims, why would you even take that second test?

why put in the effort?

"it would be… better if i supported you from afar."

you managed to feel that hint of sadness through the touch of the dark-haired one, who refused to withdraw his hand from yours

even though you tried to retract yours, trembling.

"i don't think i can do this."

you bit your lower lip with the intention of holding back those tears that threatened to spill from your eyes

"sorry"

your jaw trembled to the rhythm of your hands, voice bathed in obvious fear

your gaze barely lifted at the sound of your friend's voice.

"'tis not a job apt for everyone, so don't beat yerself up over it."

a soft, almost gentle tone adorned those words

and your heart ached in anguish when you didn't find the disappointment you had imagined.

perhaps he was hiding it, so as not to make you uncomfortable.

soshiro was always attentive to you— even his touch on your fearful hands was as soft as feathers

and that made you imagine that he was hiding what he really wanted to tell you.

because you'd heard harsh words throughout your life

just like him

he was as exhausted as you, carrying so much on his shoulders— and yet he had decided to stay by your side, to comfort you when you hit rock bottom and try to ease what you were so worried about.

you felt that all you were doing was occupying him more than he already was, putting more weight on him, even though he repeated several times that this did not bother him at all, that he did it voluntarily.

the wall that divided the two of you was the simple fact that he wanted to begin to fight against what he had been told throughout his life

while you were just sinking, learning to live with it rather than against it.

so you assumed that everyone would treat you the same; and when that didn't happen you simply thought the worst

even if you didn't want to

"ya better support me like you say"

soshiro's finger was pointing at you, and his little fangs showed above his lower lip

you lightly mimicked his smile, aware that he was only acting this way in an attempt to cheer you up

"i wanna see yer pretty face all happy, 'kay?"

[zaldritzosrose]

Bring Me To Salvation (Criston Cole x Whore!Reader)

Summary: Ser Criston was nothing if not dutiful, steadfast in his dedication to his role as protector and knight. All to the detriment of himself. A chance meeting with a Silk Street woman began to open his life to delights far outside his usual tastes.

TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mentions of sex work, submissive Criston, edging, orgasm denial, handjob, Criston being a sad, pathetic, whimpery mess.

There will be a part two.

Words: 3859

The life of a Kingsguard came with rules. Rules on how one must act in public, how to live one's life. No marriage, no titles. But what had become Criston's downfall was one rule.

Abstinence.

Well, a Kingsguard was not forbidden from sex itself, but from fathering children of their own. But Criston took his vows to heart. Complete abstinence reduced the risk of siring a child, a logical path. Duty meant everything. For the most part.

That was until he was chosen to protect Princess Rhaenyra. He had done his best, resisted for as long as he could. But every man breaks. And Criston’s resolve broke one night, letting the princess entice him to bed.

He had foolishly hoped she may feel more than lust for him, but he was left with nothing but bitterness instead. Years passed, and he watched her not only fawn over Prince Daemon, but also Ser Harwin.

That hurt him most. It weighed on him and turned his countenance sour. Something akin to hatred burning in him as he watched the princess birth bastard after bastard. Criston did his best to push his focus elsewhere. Swearing himself to Queen Alicent and helping her sons train and learn to be men.

And it worked. For the most part. He was not quite the same man he had been, he was highly strung and tense more often than not. But the two princes were a distraction he welcomed.

Until Rhaenyra and her sons returned. Walking through the Keep as if nothing had changed. The two dark haired princes joining Aemond and Aegon in the training yard as though they belonged there.

To make matters worse? Ser Harwin was there to greet them.

Criston held his ground as he sparred with Aemond, the younger prince having grown to be an excellent swordsman. His brother however, had taken the role of spectator. Sitting on the sidelines and pouring cup after cup of wine down his throat.

“Well done, my prince,” Criston praised, as Aemond once again proved himself skilled.

He could feel eyes on him. Jacaerys and Lucerys watched intently, but those were not the eyes Criston could feel. He turned slightly to find Ser Harwin glaring.

“Is there a problem, Ser Harwin?” Criston asked, motioning for Aemond to take a break.

Criston rolled his shoulders, frustration rising in him as Harwin smirked.

“You seem a little tense is all, Ser Criston,” Harwin called back, smirking wider as Criston scowled.

Even Aegon snorted a laugh in response, earning him a glare from Criston. Tense was an understatement. Criston could not remember a time where had actually been relaxed.

“And you seem far too relaxed, ser, do you not have better things to be doing?”

The tension was clear, so thick it could have been sliced. Harwin simply shook his head and walked closer, clapping Criston on the shoulder.

“You need to enjoy yourself more. Spend a little less time playing knight.”

Harwin walked away before Criston could respond, and with a tight jaw, Criston turned back and began sparring again. The words ringing in his head.

Weeks passed and the words Harwin had spoken continued to bother him. It was not the first time anyone had told him he took his duty too seriously. But it was the first time it had bothered him so much. Maybe it was because the words came from Harwin, a man whose mere presence was enough to frustrate him beyond belief.

But at the same time, maybe all those people were right. Did he take himself too seriously? Surely it would not be too out of the question for him to take some time for himself?

Those thoughts were soon knocked from his mind when he was called to the Queen’s chamber.

“Ah, Ser Criston,” Alicent smiled, though the expression seemed strained.

“I have a request, that needs the utmost discretion.”

Criston nodded and listened to her instruction. And what he heard did not surprise him at all. He was to retrieve Prince Aegon from one of King’s Landing’s brothels, yet again. The prince had a taste for all kinds of depravity and Criston knew it was not about to be an enjoyable endeavour.

He was dismissed and made his way through the city as the sun fell. And it was not long before he found the right place. Whispers of the silver haired prince led him quickly to his destination.

With a sigh, Criston entered the whorehouse, finding the Madame and demanding Aegon be brought to him. The woman did not hesitate, disappearing to search for the prince.

Criston waited patiently, two Kingsguard behind him as he averted his gaze from the debauchery around him. He was not a prude, but at the same time he was not as comfortable here as other men may be.

But in averting his eye, he found the gaze of you. There was no doubt you were one of the girls working here. The soft silks draped around your body were not something he saw many noblewomen wear. The second he caught your eye you smiled, making your way through the crowd and towards him.

There was something about you that had him entranced. Eyes that seemed to bore into his, see into his very soul. It was like you knew just what he desired the most.

"It is not often we get Kingsguards in here, ser..." you almost purred the words out to him.

Just by looking around the room he was in now, this place was built for the deepest and most depraved sins. So, it was no surprise Aegon had ended up here. People were draped over every available surface in every possible state of undress and debauchery.

Criston simply nodded at your words. Aegon has already been dragged out to him, already demanding to be left alone. Criston broke eye contact with you momentarily to glare down at the prince.

“Your mother wants you home, my prince. There are two guards outside for you.” Criston said simply, and Aegon wailed profanities at him as he was dragged away.

But you were not deterred. He did not know when you had closed the distance between you both, but soon your rounded nails tapped his armoured chest. Kohl lined eyes gazing up at him and he internally chastised himself for the desire that pulsed down his spine and through his cock.

"We cater to all tastes here, ser...I am sure I can find something you will enjoy."

Criston’s mouth felt dry at those words. The way you let every syllable roll of your tongue, the feeling of your hand on his chest. No, he could not let himself break so easily again.

“A pleasant offer, I am sure, but I must return the prince.”

He did not wait for your response before turning to join his fellow Kingsguard at the door. But that did not stop you calling out to him before he left.

“The offer will always stand, ser, should you desire it.”

Weeks passed before Criston even thought of you again. He put his focus on serving his queen and keeping the royal children safe and protected. But when he was alone, his thoughts would drift back to you and what you had promised.

But nothing came of it until Princess Rhaenyra and her children returned to King’s Landing again. Bringing back the anger and bitterness that seemed to linger and simmer within him whenever he saw her. Reminding him of everything he almost had. What was worse? She now had Prince Daemon at her side. Not only now as her uncle, but as her husband. A custom he never understood, but it only deepened his resentment further.

The King organised a ‘family’ dinner, something that every member knew would not end well. But when the King made a choice, no one was ever truly willing to go against it. Tensions were high as it was.

Criston took his place in the dining hall, where he could easily watch each member of the family he was sworn to protect. And he did his best to ignore Rhaenyra and her family entered the hall, barely acknowledging his presence as they sat.

The dinner passed with little consequence, save for the childish remarks passed between the four young princes. Criston did his duty and escorted them all back to their chambers before returning to the Queen’s side.

“Is there anything you need from me, Your Grace?” Criston asked, standing just inside the doorway to her own chamber.

Alicent looked at him with a smile.

“No, Ser Criston, you may retire if you wish,” Alicent replied, but Criston could sense that she had something more to say.

“Thank you, Your Grace, I will see you again in the morning.”

He turned to leave but Alicent, as expected, called him to stop.

“Actually, Ser Criston, there is something,” she said, walking closer to him.

He stopped, turning back to her and waiting. Her face was coloured with concern and it had him on edge. But he said nothing.

“I have one request to make, and a concern to raise.”

Criston nodded and Alicent continued. Explaining how she felt the tension that had settled in him recently. Whether it was due in part to Rhaenyra’s arrival or something else, she did not press him for an answer, but it was her request that surprised him.

“Please, take some time for yourself. Find a way to relax.”

The knight was silent. He could hardly deny his Queen’s request, though it was not phrased like an order, it felt like one. He made a promise that he would take her request to heart. But he had little idea on how to do that.

He soon left for his own chamber, making quick work of stripping himself of his armour and settling into his bed. And it was only then that his thoughts began drifting back to you.

"We cater to all tastes here, ser...I am sure I can find something you will enjoy."

“The offer will always stand, ser, should you desire it.”

He could not get those words out of his head, combined with Queen Alicent’s suggestion of finding something to relax him. His mind went back even to Ser Harwin’s jibe about his tense demeanour.

“You need to enjoy yourself more. Spend a little less time playing knight.”

He knew he should not. His honour and duty warred with his desire to take up your offer. Would it be so bad? To visit you once, to see if you could be the ‘something to enjoy’?

It took only mere seconds more of thought for Criston to pull a cloak from his wardrobe and make his way quickly down the quieter side of the Keep and out into the city.

Tonight was a quieter night, for a brothel. A few regular patrons were in attendance, but none had yet to call for your services. Yet.

You heard the heavy swing of the door, and the Madame calling your name over the soft chatter of patrons and whores. You fixed your silken robe, making a smooth path through the room and out to the entrance. You assumed it would be one of your regulars, your talents were quite…specialised.

What you did not expect was the Kingsguard, Ser Criston, stood before you. He looked so different, unencumbered by his armour. He seemed to shrink in on himself, as if he was already regretting coming here.

The Madame nodded to you and left the pair of you alone.

“I see you took my offer, ser?” you said softly, closing the distance between the two of you.

Criston seemed to stiffen a little, making it clear he did not frequent these places often.

“Please, do not make me regret it.”

You simply smiled, taking his hand and noting the coin in the Madame’s hand as you passed her. The knight had paid, you were his for the night. Criston’s eyes drifted over the room around him, seemingly the main area of the brothel. It was quieter than when he had been here last, and he felt himself relax a little with that knowledge.

And thankfully, you continued to lead him down a corridor and to a private room. You both entered in silence, yet it was not uncomfortable. Your hand was soft in his, and nothing about you made him feel as though this was a mistake.

It was only when you crossed the threshold did you let go of his hand, urging him gently to sit down on the bed as you closed the door and lit some of the candles littered about the room. Criston took this opportunity to take in his surroundings. The bed was large, dressed is plush fabrics in deep tones, the headboard half covered with plump pillows.

The rest of the room, however, took his interest.

The wall to his right was home to a large glass fronted cupboard, showcasing a plethora of oils and scents that he knew immediately were what you used to ready yourself. The wall to his left was something entirely different. Locked chests that had him wondering what was hidden inside. Something about you told him that you were more than just a typical woman of the Silk Street.

“Now, my sweet knight, what have you come here for?” You asked, walking back over to him and reaching gently up to run a hand through his hair.

Criston, despite himself, leaned into the touch. Eyes closing as he let a soft sigh escape him. What exactly had he come for? He did not really know himself.

“I was hoping you could help me…relax.” His voice was quiet, a low rumble that was tinged with the faintest hint of shame.

You realised then, that you would have to start from the beginning. Bring him out of whatever cloud of shame he seemed to be hiding in. You made quick work of his cloak, taking your time and letting him ease into the whole situation.

“Shall we start with some wine?”

Criston nodded and gladly took the cup when you handed it to him. Letting the sweet liquid ease his mind. You sat beside him on the bed, your hand moved back to his hair and began to rub soft circles into his scalp. Criston could not stop the way he leaned back into your touch again, soft sighs leaving him as your lips soon latched on to the skin of his neck.

The pleasure you gave him was slow, but intoxicating, seeping into his veins and pulsing down through his cock. He felt you smirk against his skin as you noticed the prominent bulge in his breeches, watching it twitch as you pressed a firmer kiss to his throat.

“We will start simple, kiss and touch until you are comfortable…”

Criston could only groan in response, all thoughts leaving him as your palm found his cock. Palming him through the fabric, the heat of your hand and the plump flesh of your lips sending his mind into a void of nothing but pleasure.

His hips chased your hand, desperate for whatever friction you could give him. But at the same time, you could tell he would need instruction. Permission to give in to his desires.

“You can touch me, sweet knight.” You whispered into his ear, taking one of his hands and placing it on the swell of your breast.

Your now free hand untied your robe, letting the smooth silk fall from your shoulders and exposing your bare skin. You revelled in the soft groan that left the knight as his eyes opened, widening as he took in everything that was happening.

The bare skin. The warmth of it beneath his palm. The gentle friction of your hand against his hardened length. But he wanted more.

“Please…”

He could not seem to form any more words. While he was not the most eloquent of men, he could barely process that you had him speechless from the first touch.

“Please what, my darling? Tell me what you want, and you shall have it.”

His fingers tugged at the soft bud of your nipple, the way he licked his lips giving you a good clue as to what he wanted. Your hand in his hair guiding him down and letting him bury himself between your breasts. He may not know it yet, but everything he was doing told you one thing.

The stoic knight was submissive. Desperate for affection, no matter where it came from. In need of having someone else take control away from him. And you were more than happy to do that for him. It was your specialty really. Taking powerful men and reducing them to panting, begging messes of themselves.

You tugged his head back, already seeing the damp and wide-eyed look in his eye. Telling you, your assumption was right.

“Stand up and take off your shirt.” You ordered, letting your voice taking a little more of a commanding town and smiling when you saw his cock twitch in response.

Criston hurried to remove his shirt, throwing it behind him and waiting for your next instruction. Just the idea of being at your mercy, at his pleasure being held solely by you, had his skin heating and his cock already leaking onto the fabric of his breeches. You licked your lips, letting him wait just a little longer before your next command.

“Now, strip bare. Let me see you, Ser Criston.”

He had never removed his clothes faster, near tripping over himself as he kicked away his boots before pushing his breeches down his legs. He could tell immediately that this was what you enjoyed. The smug expression, the commanding tone, it suited you perfectly. Your eyes roamed his now bare form, watching the flush that coloured his chest and moved higher under your gaze.

You stood from the bed, letting your robe fall entirely from your body as you closed the distance between you. He held his breath as you touched him, soft hands starting at his shoulders and working their way down, mapping every inch of his muscled form.

But when you reached his cock, his knees felt like they would buckle. It had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him so intimately and he was already on the brink of overstimulation.

“Now, we can do this two ways. I can be gentle, bring you to your release with my hand, my mouth or my cunt…” you whispered, pressing your lips to his jaw between words.

“Or…I can do what I know you really need. To surrender. To relinquish the control, you hold on so tight to.”

You punctuated your words now with gentle squeezes to his cock, not quite enough movement to make him come, but enough to have him grunting under his breath. He did not know what to answer. Deep down, he knew that the second option was what he wanted but he was too embarrassed to say the words.

His silence, however, was not acceptable.

“Words, I need your words.” Your hands stilled on his cock, and he could not stop the whine that left him when your movements stopped.

“Please…the se-second…please…” Criston was verging on incoherent, and you had barely started.

A mix of shame and desire surged in his veins, a war raging in him between grabbing his clothes and fleeing and staying at your side and following your every command. You could see it, his eyes flicking still between the door and you. You resumed your movements slowly, working up to pumping his cock faster and faster and watching how he slowly but surely folded under your touch.

You pressed your lips to his, feeling him melt under your touches.

“You will not come unless I say. You will only touch me when I say.”

Criston nodded quickly. He may not have known it, but his body did. Relaxing into your touch and surrendering completely. You released his cock, another whine leaving him, but he knew from the look you gave him that he would not be without your touch for long. You ordered him to lay down, walking over to the cabinet and taking out a small bottle of oil.

“We will start slow, ease you into it. Let your body get used to the feeling of submission…”

Criston’s head fell back against the sheets, feeling the heat of your body as you crawled up to lay beside him. Your lips kissed a trail down his body, supporting yourself with an arm on either side of his torso. His moans were soft, the evidence of just how much control he had already let slip.

Your kisses covered his entire body as your hand sped up, working his cock until Criston was panting and begging beneath you. And when you felt him twitch in your palm, you stopped. Denying his orgasm and forcing a harsh whine from his lips.

“I..I..?” Criston stammered, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

“You will come when I tell you to. Not before.”

Criston sighed in frustration, but the combination of the denial and your words sent a rush of desire through him. He nodded, and you began your ministrations anew.

Four times. Four times you denied him before his body was so flushed, so sore, so slick with sweat that he began to give in and beg you.

“Please, it hurts…I need to…please...” His voice was pathetic almost, he could hear it. If he was not so deep into his arousal, he would have been embarrassed.

Your hand wrapped him tight, the other slipping down and adding pressure around his stones, massaging and squeezing until you could feel his cock twitching again. His eyes searched for yours, waiting for the permission he needed.

Those sad brown eyes, wet with tears and filled with desperation. If you were crueller, you would have denied him a fifth time.

“So good, well done, you can come, my sweet knight.”

That was all he needed. With a rough, strained moan, his orgasm ripped through him. Leaving him panting and gripping tight at the sheets beneath him. You could not help but smile. There was something quite satisfying watching strong men like Criston fall apart at your hand.

Eventually, your hands slowed, moving from his cock to his stomach and hips. Stroking soft circle into his skin as his breathing slowed. He sat up on his elbows, wiping a hand over his face to clear the tears and sweat.

“I am impressed, ser, not many submit so easily.” You praised, planting a kiss on his hip before sitting up between his legs.

Criston huffed out a laugh, his mind still in the throes of pleasure and almost unable to form any answer except for one.

“Thank you.”

Criston left your side in the early hours, but not without the promise of his return. And your promise of more means of…exploration.

Even after one meeting, Criston could feel himself walking lighter, less tense.

Maybe, just maybe, you would be his salvation.

@bucknastysbabe @elaratyrell @fairyslunaluna @towriteloveontheirarms @aemondsbabe

[ifishouldvanish]

The idea of Olrox being from Cholula specifically makes me so insane. Like would he have identified more as Mexica? Or as Tlaxcaltec? Would he have been loyal to the Tlaxcaltec and allied with the Spanish only to get screwed over like his Mohican lover did in the colonies? Would he have done so thinking he could get the upper hand in the end just like Mizrak/Emmanuel thought the Order could with Erzsebet?

"He thinks the devils he manufactures will be enough to destroy her when the time comes. What do you think? Do you think he's right?" - S1E4

Even after the fall of Tenochtitlan, nobility from all over the region would have been sent to Cholula to get the blessing of Cholulan priests for their legitimacy. How might this have fueled his disdain for nobility?

Olrox: "I prefer my blood blue."

Drolta: "Maybe you do things differently in the new world, but over here we don't feed off the wealthy. The locals will start to grumble." - S1E5

As a Mexica citizen, this disdain could come from resentment toward sumptuary laws, the increasing lack of socioeconomic mobility during Moctezuma's rule, and frustration with how he handled the Spanish... But as a Cholulan sympathetic to Tlaxcala, there's so much more???

It could come from frustration with leadership that defected from the very people who helped them elude Mexica rule in the years before the Spanish conquest. Anger at a decision that economically obliterated the Tlaxcaltec, who became completely surrounded by Mexica member-states? Regret at how much it cost them to 'overthrow' the Mexica? Grief at how this kind of political/military opportunism helped lead the wider indigenous population to its demise?? Like the latter is so much more thematically ripe for a show tackling colonialism and imperialism imo???

"This one? He was just an opportunist, following the Messiah because she's powerful." - S1E4

I mean!!?? Think about how the implications of all of this... *gestures wildly* stuff would lead him to adopt such a cynical, morally ambiguous worldview? This sense that it's all doomed, that he's not strong enough to fight it? Resist and fall to your enemies, or work with them only to lose parts of your identity in the process? Think about how the brutality of the Cholula massacre recontextualizes eurocentric perceptions of the brutality of flower wars and ritual sacrifice??? How it would leave you with anger and pain and an unyielding need for justice?

"Little boy Belmont. I know that feeling. That pain, that hate, that burning, unendurable need for retribution." - S1E1

Think about how the Mexica Empire had adopted Huitzilopochtli (war, sacrifice) as their primary patron deity, and the Tlaxcaltec Mixcoatl/Camaxtli (the hunt, fire)... Yet Olrox's form seems to be based on Quetzalcoatl (wind, knowledge, rebirth, among other things)–the deity the great temple at Cholula was dedicated to.

A handful of mesoamerican deities are associated with serpents/have names ending in '-coatl', but Olrox's serpent form clearly has a feathered crest—the 'quetzal-' in Quetzalcoatl.

But Olrox's abilities also seem to include lightning/thunder, which are associated with Tlaloc, who the Cholulans seemed to have adopted as their central deity some time before the Spanish conquest.

Quetzalcoatl is only associated with storms sort of tangentially, through his aspect as the wind god, Ehecatl. The Florentine Codex refers to Quetzalcoatl-Ehecatl as sweeping the roads to make way for the rain and the thunder.

Think about how in Tlaxcaltec accounts, Cholula–being a sacred city–had no real military to speak of and depended on their gods to protect them???

Mizrak: "There's only one God. Just one. That's the only thing I'm sure of. And I've spent my whole life serving him, fighting for him. That hasn't changed, and it never will." Olrox: "One god... And you think he can protect you?" - S1E4

Like... What does it all mean???? 🫠🫠🫠

Agshsjdkdkfll *screams into a pillow* I am so excited for season 2 but whatever happens Cholulan Olrox is canon in my heart y'all

[yenonnoff]

ೃ⁀➷ the wanderer's love | (night)

synopsis: grieving comes differently to the wanderer—especially after the painful death of his significant other.

content: established relationship, angst, gn!reader dies haha; kazuha's part is a parallel version to this <3

note: this is 100% solely dedicated to @kqbukimono (may aka the best person ever aka loml) !!! i wrote this completely knowing that scara's ur fav and that u hate angst ᵔᴗᵔ this is for all the times that you annoyed me by being better at games

the wanderer's love | from beginning to end (kazuha)

your death had left him in despair. in devastation—in crushing anguish. 

there you were: cold and motionless, your life cruelly taken away far too soon. the gaping wound on your chest; the dried up blood coating your figure; and your spiritless eyes had left you unrecognizable.

there he was: looming over your deceased body with a soul-crushing expression. he didn’t want to believe that it was you. he didn’t want to admit that you were gone and that he was too late. in that moment, uncontrollable emotions swallowed him and he sought to avenge your death. it barely took a minute before he was by your side again. 

he stayed to wipe any dirt or blood off of your beautiful face. he stayed until he had the faintest will to stand—until he could no longer weep by your lifeless body. why did you leave him? why wasn’t he able to protect you? 

first, he cursed at the world and the men that took your life. then, he cursed at himself for failing you. 

for months after your burial the wanderer continued to mourn. he continued to grieve because he loved you. he couldn’t move on because a part of him was forever missing. 

no matter where he went, no matter what time of day it was, you were on his mind. even the simplest activity—strolling around sumeru’s enchanting forests—was agonizing. he couldn’t take another step without the smell of fresh dew and rain reminding him of you. 

it was worse at night when he couldn’t sleep. he would stargaze on top of canopies and wish desperately that you were still alive—still cheerful and warm with your head resting on his shoulder. he missed you. he missed your glory and tranquility; he missed the smiles that he would gladly go into battle for. 

nahida and the traveler had taught him the importance of realization and forgiveness. you had taught him the art of love and care. 

it was a slow process, however. the wanderer was accustomed to surrounding himself with walls and barriers. he was used to following his own rules, not charmed one bit by your strange way of thinking. (“strange,” because the wanderer never cared enough to see other people’s point of views). 

when he fell in love with you, it was like a chain reaction. everything became better: the wanderer—cynical and rude and previously wounded—grew to like himself whenever he was with you. “strange” turned into tolerable and then comforting. for the first time in a while, he was glad to exist. he was grateful to have met you, and now he was alone. 

you had taught him how to love, but not how to love again. so while you slumbered for eternity, your lover was awake with nothing but the memories of your warm hands in his. how peaceful it would be, he thought, to sleep with you by his side. 

his soul and his restless nights will continue to yearn for you. he’ll continue to reminisce about your time together until the memories wither away and lose themselves. the wanderer’s love will continue to roam aimlessly until it finds you again.