#because you supported him with the risk it could be and didn't care!!!!

[bluepurplepinklock]

Tsundere! Itoshi Rin x reader, where he insists he's well despite having a fever and you take care of him, making him open up to you a little more.

You wondered what lay beneath the hundred cold walls Rin has built around himself. Maybe more walls to keep others out. To keep you out. Because despite being together for a few months now, you still felt as if he never opened up to you.

Once you thought there was something wrong with you. Maybe Rin wasn't actually in love with you. That's why he still kept his distance. But no, he has proven time and time again, in those subtle ways of his, that the thought is false.

It has now become your mission in life to help him break out of his shell. Because you know, deep beneath those walls, he is lonely and sad and a beautiful person still, a person you'll always love.

And when he woke up with a burning fever beside you, Rin, being his stubborn self decided it was nothing.

"What do you mean it's nothing?" You call out as he slips out of bed, ready to start his day by heading to the gym.

"I said…" he walka to the bathroom with trembling steps, his breath hitching, "don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"You are anything but fine, Rin," you stomp over to him, blocking the bathroom door and glaring up at him, "stay in bed!"

Rin growls, now you have pissed him off. Interrupting his morning routine like this needs guts only you have.

"Listen here…" he trails off, his feet wobbling as he loses balance.

"Shit!" You support him upright, his weight crushing you down as his vision blurs, "Rin! You okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine…" he gasps, and stumbles back towards the bed as you help him lie down.

"Exactly," you scoff, folding your arms as you watch him catch his breath, sprawled on the bed, "you seem perfectly fine."

"…leave." Rin spits out, struggling to grab the covers.

You sigh and sit down beside him, pulling the sheets over him, "Rin, stop it."

He eyes you questioningly, still irritated.

"Stop," you lean forward and brush his soft hair away from his eyes, lightly caressing his face as he visibly relaxes, "stop shutting me out. I want to be with you. I want to see and love everything of you. So please, don't shut me out."

Rin was taken aback, his face dropping his cold mask. After a long stare with your fingers still soothing his face, he shut his eyes and you felt like you had never seen him this relaxed before as he weakly grabbed your palm and placed a feverish kiss on it.

"Sorry," you almost didn't hear him mumble, "I don't want you to leave. I just... I just..." he grabbed his face, trying to contain himself before he slips up and reveals his true self.

His true self which you would see and won't love back. It scares him. That's the only thing that scares him, you leaving him behind like everyone else did, like his brother did. But when he looked into those eyes of yours, drowned in concern and love for him, he decided that maybe you are different. Maybe you would see beneath his mask and still love what you see.

He's willing to take the risk. For you, he's willing.

And so, he opened his arms towards you, his face so loving, needy and human- so unlike the cold, hard mask he always wore, and whispered,

"I'm sorry. I won't shut you out. I want you to... want you to stay..." he gulped, his spread out arms trembling due to his rising fever, "Please?"

With a soft smile, you accept his embrace, snuggling into his heated body as he envelopes you, draping his legs over yours and burying you in his chest.

You wish you could stay that way for longer. But Rin needed medicine, and you were pleasantly surprised when he let you feed him the porridge you prepared.

Maybe after this, he'd start letting you in. Maybe his mask and his walls would slowly melt off until he would be bare before you, and you'd love him still.

A/N: Ah yes, my messed up Rin who shuts people out despite knowing he's damaging himself. Tell me if you guys need more of Tsundere! Rin because I sure do.

©bluepurplepinklock (Do not copy, steal or translate my work)

[legendof]

if I see "we can be friends despite political differences" from one more smug maga supporter or "can't we just move on" I'm gonna scream. No! We can't! The things him and his party have said are vile and dangerous and you thought it was fine to support him!!!! you thought it was fine!!!! how can we be friends and move on????

[navybrat817]

I'll Be Okay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: When Bucky accidentally harms you, he questions whether or not he's worthy of you and your love.

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, accidental injury (small cut), mention of blood, mention of past injuries (not reader's), slight canon divergence (aftermath of torture, PTSD), self-loathing, angst, insecurities, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: This idea hit me and here we are! The quote is a partial lyric change from "I'll Be OK" by Nothing More. Thanks to @yenzys-lucky-charm and @starlightcrystalline for their help. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky had an established routine before he went to bed each night. Screen time stopped an hour before he went to sleep so his mind and body could start to wind down. He changed into his pajamas, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He read for fifteen minutes, nothing too intense or emotional since heavy topics would make his mind start to race again. The last thing he did were deep breathing exercises, imagining relaxing scenes as he inhaled, exhaled, and released the tension in his body.

Relaxing into the mattress, he smiled to himself. It took him some time to get accustomed to it, but he was glad he gave it a chance since he was determined to make his bedroom a safe haven. It took time and effort, but it worked. The atmosphere was relaxing and soothing. The blackout curtains helped him embrace the darkness since it was darkness of his choice. He hadn’t slept on the floor in months. He felt a sense of peace.

“Night,” you yawned.

It was difficult to see you in the pitch-black room, but he smiled more when he heard your heartbeat. The perfume you wore earlier today still lingered on your skin. Your hand touched his and he felt that sense of peace all over again.

The two of you started dating almost a year ago, short enough that it still felt new but also long enough that he felt comfortable. He didn't feel the need to hide his thoughts or feelings from you and you understood when he had his bad days. You were so patient, so caring. You were everything he wanted and nothing he deserved.

You didn't start spending the night until you hit the six-month mark. It worried him the first night because even sex didn’t disrupt his routine, and he didn’t want that to bother you. Just like you supported him in everything else, you were more than happy to support his evening habits. You even took a page from his book and started cutting out your screen time early so it wouldn’t disturb him. You were thoughtful like that, and he considered himself a lucky guy to have someone like you.

Especially when it came to his nightmares.

You were gentle and calm whenever he woke up from a nightmare, never trying to wake him abruptly and risk causing further distress. Respecting boundaries was something you both cultivated, so you never forced or pushed him to talk about his experiences or what he dreamed about. When he did, you listened without judgement and didn't dismiss his concerns or fears. No matter what, you were quick to offer comfort and help him get back to sleep or stay awake with him.

For all his crimes, he somehow ended up with a wonderful and understanding partner.

“Night,” he whispered into the darkness, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep, your breathing steady. Closing his eyes, he slid his hand under his pillow and instinctively closed his hand around the small knife handle. His eyes opened immediately, his next breath caught in his throat. Why did he have his knife there?

Sleeping with a knife had been a coping mechanism and he typically did so on missions, but he tried to let it go at home once you started sleeping over. Tightening his grip, he remembered he had it there the night before because you had to sleep at your apartment. He swore he moved it to the nightstand before you came over. Did he… Shit, did he mean to do that and forget about it?

As much as his memory improved, he still had moments of forgetfulness. A likely permanent side effect thanks to the years of torture. It was one of the reasons why he liked having a routine. It helped him cope as well as improved his memory thanks to the repeated steps. Making lists helped, too.

“I’m safe. She��s safe,” he whispered.

The debate of having weapons in the bedroom was a tough choice since it was meant to be a safe space. He wanted to have weapons nearby for protection, but also wanted them far away in case something triggered him. He convinced himself that one knife was okay. One knife wouldn't hurt him.

But after his last nightmare, he didn’t think it was a good idea to have a knife under the pillow.

It had been a rough night, one of the roughest he could recall in ages. Surrounded by his demons and sins, he felt utterly alone. It was better that way. No one else should ever hear the agony or see the twisted horrors in his head. It was for an audience of one. But, still, he fought. He tried.

And his hand moved.

Bucky had been on autopilot, wanting desperately to fully wake himself up. His body tried to protect him while his mind continued to cling to his neverending nightmare. He just needed to open his eyes and be free for one more day.

He had sat up with a gasp, this haze in his mind finally lifting. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I go by Bucky,” he panted to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming. “I was born on March 17th, 1917. I’m in my bed, and I’m holding a knife.”

He had been holding a knife.

And he sliced through the sheet where you would’ve been laying.

He barely made it to the toilet before he wretched. He had nightmares of you being tortured, your screams driving him to the brink of insanity when he wanted so desperately to save you. There were nightmares, too, where outside forces made him inflict pain on you. He swore he’d never harm you. If you had been asleep beside him… It made him sick all over again.

Which was why he tried not to sleep with a knife in bed anymore.

Carefully slipping his hand out from under the pillow, he kept an ear out for you. He didn’t want to risk waking or jolting you. He just had to put the knife away so he could cuddle with you and get some much needed rest.

But some higher being or life itself enjoyed messing with Bucky Barnes.

You rolled from your back to your side the second his hand moved through the air. He was fast, should’ve been faster, but it didn’t stop the blade from slicing your skin before he could pull his hand back. He knew the second you woke up, a startled and pained cry escaping. No… no.

He dropped the knife on the nightstand with a shaky hand and turned on the light. The first thing he saw was your face scrunched in pain as you sat up in bed and examined your arm. The crimson drew his attention next because he knew your body better than he knew his own and there shouldn't be a cut there… or blood. There shouldn't be pain etched on your beautiful face.

For a split second, Bucky thought he was having a nightmare. He wanted it to be a nightmare, didn't want it to be real, but the cry he heard wasn't in his head. It wasn't a dream.

It was a living nightmare.

“What did I do?” His voice shook. Tears stung his eyes.

God, what did he do?

Your lips moved, but he felt like he was hearing the words underwater. “Bucky? Did you have a nightmare? Are you okay?”

You were asking if he was okay?

“Oh, my God.” he whispered in horror, his eyes wide. “I…” He cut you. He hurt you. Something he vowed to never do. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tried to assure him, clutching your arm closer like you were trying not to get blood on the sheets. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not okay!” he said, trying not to raise his voice. Frightening you was the last thing he wanted to do. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, carefully rounding the bed and making sure he kept himself in your line of sight. “I-I didn't mean to. I was trying to move it to the nightstand. I thought I put it back.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you assured him, showing him the small wound. “But I need your help.”

He tried not to panic, but his heart wouldn't stop racing and his next breath felt ragged. “I…”

How could you possibly want his help? He was no longer the Winter Soldier, yet he was still a weapon who destroyed everything he touched. He fooled himself into believing that you were the exception, but look what he did? Your beautiful skin might have a scar now because of him, a constant reminder that he brought nothing but pain and destruction.

“Bucky, please,” you whispered, slowly lifting your hand. You let it hover near his cheek, silently asking for permission, the way you always did after he had a bad dream. He allowed himself to lean in, selfishly accepting it and taking from you the way he always took from you. “Help me.”

He dared to look in your eyes with the hope of centering himself and prayed he wouldn't see fear or disgust. There was none, only trust and love when you looked back at him. It was enough to push the panic away. He could be upset later. Right now he had to take care of you and fix his mistake.

“Okay,” he breathed.

He took your arm with infinite tenderness to examine it and blinked away the mist in his eyes. The cut, thankfully, didn’t look jagged or deep. It was a clean cut. In fact, it looked superficial compared to the damage it could've done. It still had to hurt since a sharp blade sliced your skin and there was still blood.

A wounded sound left Bucky’s lips when his gaze flickered up and he spotted a tear slide down your cheek. As if he had any right to make a sound like that when he caused you pain. The angel that you were, you offered him a soft smile. Any other night your voice and smile would’ve soothed him, but he didn't deserve that tonight. He didn't deserve comfort. He was unworthy of it, unworthy of any of your kindness or care.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he said, his voice rough. He wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly experienced enough of his own cuts and stitched up enough wounds to know. “Can I carry you to the bathroom?”

Logically, he knew you were capable of walking there on your own, but he wanted to hold you. Make himself useful. You must've sensed it since you nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Picking you up in his arms, he felt numb as he carried you. Why couldn’t he have accidentally cut himself instead? He experienced plenty of wounds, and had plenty of scars. What was one more?

He took a second to breathe in your scent before he set you on the edge of the tub, worried he might not smell it again if you decided to leave for the rest of the night. “I need to apply pressure to it,” he said, saying the steps out loud for both of you as he washed his hands and grabbed the first aid kit. “Once the bleeding stops, I can clean it.”

You nodded, keeping your arm elevated. “Okay,” you said, your gaze going to his shaking hands. “Deep breath, Bucky.”

Breathing in slowly and releasing it, he willed himself to stop shaking. He didn’t realize the metal arm could shake, but it made sense since it was an extension of himself. Avoiding your gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound, his teeth snapped together when he heard the wince you tried not to let out. As if he didn’t hate himself enough for the damage he’d done, you were trying to be brave and strong for him.

Once the bleeding stopped, he turned the water on. The sight of the red on the gauze made his stomach turn since it was your blood. “Soap and water next.”

You offered him a small smile again while he cleaned it, but he couldn’t smile back. “The cut doesn't look bad at all. Barely a scratch,” you mused once he finished and grabbed the tweezers. “What are those for?”

“It was a small blade,” he said, swallowing hard. “I know it isn’t a deep cut, but I’m just making sure there isn’t anything in it. We don’t want it to get infected.” Both of you kept the bedroom clean and he also took great care of his knives, but that didn’t mean dust or something else didn’t seep its way in.

You nodded again, letting him do what he needed to before he applied petroleum jelly. “That helps with the healing, right?”

His heart turned over. You were keeping him talking and not allowing his mind to slip into a dark place. “That’s right. I know you’re not a big fan of the word ‘moist’, but, well, keeping it moist helps,” he said, putting the bandage on. You wrinkled your nose, something he usually found adorable. Seeing you do it now, he wanted to cry. “I think that should do it. Do you… need anything for the pain?”

“You did a great job,” you smiled gently, which only made his heart ache more. “I don't need anything, but thank you for asking.”

“You sure you aren't being stubborn?” he tried to tease.

Cuts and bruises, he could handle those. Things like aspirin didn't do anything for him anyway thanks to the serum. What about you? What if your arm ached?

You laughed a little. “If I do need something, you'll be the first to know.”

You looked past your arm into the tub. He looked, too, watching the last trace of blood go down the drain. Or maybe he imagined it. The last time he came back from a bad mission, you helped him wash his hair and wipe away the remaining blood and dirt. You made him feel clean again as every speck disappeared. And what had he given you in return?

What good was he?

“Are you okay?” he barely whispered. God, he wanted you to be okay.

“I am,” you answered without hesitation, turning his face toward you. “Seriously, Bucky. It’s just a scratch, and it was an accident.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” he said, pulling away from your touch. He feared he’d taint you if you kept touching him. “And you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

You inhaled so sharply he thought you’d choke on your breath. “I don’t put up with you. I love you.”

How could your love break his heart?

Emotions whirled inside him as he sank to the cold floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared off with vacant eyes. Faces of the people he harmed and killed over the years passed in his mind. Blaming him. Telling him he didn't deserve you.

He didn't, did he?

He didn’t see you move to the floor beside him, but he felt your presence. It was his job to comfort you, make you feel better. Instead he began to shut down. He didn’t want to. Why was he allowing himself to go under?

“Bucky?” you asked after a few minutes passed.

His good and his bad days, you always stayed beside him. But you had to be afraid of him now, right? He wouldn’t blame you if you were. He also wouldn’t blame you if you never trusted him again.

“One of the happiest days of my life was when you and I started dating. Luck was finally on my side,” he said, remembering the smile on your face when he asked you to go out with him. He was on cloud nine when you said yes. “And then you eventually started sleeping over and I thought my luck was continuing to turn around.” He laughed a watery laugh. “I was going to ask you to move in with me soon.”

You placed your hand over his, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting him to know that you were listening and taking in every word.

“But I lied to you. I said I’d never hurt you and I did,” he said, biting his lip to the point where he almost drew blood. “You were the one person I was supposed to protect and take care of and…” He whimpered, doing his damnedest not to sob. “I can’t even protect you from myself.”

He couldn't even blame a nightmare for what he did because it was all him.

“You do protect and take care of me. You do it every single day,” you said. If he could see himself through your eyes, he’d believe it. “You're my hero.”

He finally looked at you and he didn't stop you from holding his face in your hands. How could he be your hero when felt like a villain? “Take care of you? Look what I did to your arm.” Tonight was a small cut and an accident, truly, but would if one day he did something worse? He still feared the day something triggered him and he went after the ones he loved the most.

You barely gave your arm a glance, like it didn't bother you at all. “That wasn't done on purpose. I would never hold something like that over your head and you wouldn't do it to me if the roles were reversed.”

The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. “But I’m supposed to be faster.”

Bucky faced his share of punishments when he wasn't the perfect machine. He wasn't supposed to feel. Only follow orders. It was hard to accept some days that he was truly free, that he was allowed to make mistakes. Being with you reminded him that he wasn't a machine, but that he was a human being.

And human beings weren't perfect no matter how hard they tried to be.

“You’re still fast. Still strong,” you said, your voice steady and firm, urging him to believe you. “But, Bucky, at the end of the day, accidents happen and we can't always protect each other from pain. That’s just not possible.”

He wanted to argue that he should keep you safe from pain, but he knew in his heart that you were right. “So we help and comfort each other?” he asked.

“Exactly. And I promise you I’m okay.”

“You’re really okay?” he whispered.

“I’m really okay,” you whispered back.

His shoulders dropped and tears spilled over before he could stop them. You weren't going to let him shoulder the blame no matter how hard he tried. “If you want to leave…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, but he’d get it if you wanted to go back to your place instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, giving him renewed strength and relief. “Especially since you were going to ask me to move in. What kind of partner would I be if I just left?”

“You’re the best,” he swore. The best person, partner, everything. “And I’m sorry.”

He had to say it once more and he wasn't sure how he’d make it up to you, but he’d find a way.

“There's nothing to be sorry for,” you whispered, brushing the softest of kisses against his lips as you wiped his tears away. “But if you really feel like you have to say it, then I forgive you.”

He couldn't believe some days how forgiving you were, how deep your love for him ran. “You still love me? Because I love you so much.”

“Always,” you promised.

Your answer allowed him to cry harder. In the safe space of his home with the woman he loved holding him and not running away, he didn't have to suppress his emotions. He could embrace it, the bad and the good, the ugly and the beautiful.

“Thank you,” he whispered once his crying slowed. Tears fell from your eyes, too. He tasted them when he kissed your cheeks. “It really was an accident.”

“I know,” you softly smiled. “How about we add checking the bed for knives and anything else to your bedtime routine?”

“That’s a good idea,” he said. It would be easy to add that to his nightly list. “I don’t…”

He looked toward the door, not wanting to say he couldn’t sleep in the bed tonight. At least not until he changed the sheets, even if there wasn’t a drop of blood on them. Even then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all.

“Maybe we can curl up on the floor together with some blankets and pillows?” you offered, letting him make the choice.

There you went again being the understanding and patient partner, willing to curl up on an uncomfortable floor to make him feel better. “I’d like that.”

“Are you going to be okay?” you asked before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

It was a question you asked after every nightmare, every bad day.

He considered his answer before he uttered, “I will be.”

The truth was, he believed he had wounds that would never fully heal no matter how hard he tried. Something would come along out of nowhere and tear them open. If he were a better man, he’d let you go so you could find someone not so damaged. Instead he chained you to his side and dragged you down with him. But he remembered something you once said to him.

“We can learn to forgive and be forgiven by learning to heal with our hearts wide open.”

He opened his heart to you, and you accepted his love and gave it back tenfold. You took as much of his pain away as you could and made his days brighter. He was still learning how to be forgiven, but you helped him get better every day.

And both of you were going to be okay.

Oh, he deserves a hug and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

The first real conversation Katniss has with Peeta is when he tells her that he wants to die as himself, that he doesn't want the games to change him into something he's not, and that he wants to keep his identity and prove he's more than just a piece in their games because that's the only thing he has left to care about.

The first time we see Lucy Gray she sings a song that basically says that nothing they could take from her was worth keeping. "Can't take my past. Can't take my history... You can't take my charm. You can't take my health."

The capitol has taken everything from them both, but at the same time, they could never take away who they are.

They are both likeable charismatic and funny, with the kindest hearts, and incredibly loyal to the people they care about.

At the same time, everything they do before the games, and during is calculated. Lucy Gray singing a love song and winning the hearts of the capitol. Peeta confesses he's in love with his district partner, therefore cementing her identity as desirable. Both of them know how to sway people with words, how to charm people, and how to manipulate crowds. Neither of them has any problem doing so to keep themselves, and the people they love safe.

Lucy Gray's song The Old Therebefore, about learning how to love and live her life to the fullest before death, a final and calculated stroke in a last-ditch effort to save herself from the arena. This evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for her life alongside Snow.

Snow, watching the 74th and preparing for the 75th Hunger Games sees Lucy Gray in Katniss. A young girl, from the 12th district. Unafraid at the reaping. Selling a false love story, manipulating a boy who loves her in order to get out and supporting the revolution with the mockingjay as her symbol.

He threatens her family to get her to sell that she and Peeta are in love, to prevent the revolution, because obviously, she's pretending. He's had experience with a girl just like her before. He has no doubt that she has the acting ability to sell this story because clearly, she manipulated the first Hunger Games in her favor, the same way Lucy Gray manipulated him.

Watching the interviews for the 75th Hunger Games he realizes-

Katniss is just an impulsive girl, in a Mockingjay dress she didn't know about, made by someone who supports the revolution.

Peeta is a boy who has the ability to move people with just his words. He made Katniss desirable, he was the one who sold the love story, and he was the one to make their romance seem real. Katniss only started the revolution because she would rather risk dying with him than live without him. A concept President Snow was completely unfamiliar with. And it is with all these realizations crashing around him Peeta drops the baby bomb. He knows the baby's not real, and so does Snow. But it evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for the lives of the tributes.

Is it Lucy Gray or Peeta?

By the time Snow realizes he's made a mistake, it's too late.

Peeta is still charming and manipulating the capitol. Katniss is in love.

He goes up against a kindhearted boy expecting to beat Sejanus again, only to find out that it's Lucy Gray he's fighting; knowing he will never be able to escape their ghosts.

-from a conversation i had with @grandtyphoonpoetry breaking down every character in the hunger games.

[the-other-art-blog]

Violet to Colin: "You're one of my most sensitive children."

The fandom: "How can she say that! Anthony, Benedict bla, bla bla..."

Colin is ONE of her most sensitive children. ONE, just ONE of them. And she's right.

ONE OF HER MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN

He was the only one who indulged Violet and let her introduce him to debutantes in s1, while Anthony fucked his mistress and Ben went to orgies.

He was a complete gentleman with Marina. AND defended her when Anthony implied something about her.

And when he learned the truth, he confessed that he would have married her if she had told him the truth. 🥹

He danced with Pen after Cressida bullied her.

He wrote dozens of letters that his family of 8 could not care to respond to often. There are 8 of them!

He worried about Ben in s2 and supported him on his application to the Academy.

He learned the truth of Jack Featherington and instead of simply leaving, he did something about it. Not only did he help the Featherington family, but he saved other lords from being scammed.

He apologized to Will, explained why he acted rudely AND made amends to repair the damage by bringing men to Will's club.

He returned with gifts for everyone, but he seemed particularly thoughtful to his sisters and mother. A perfume for Hyacinth, music for Francesca, and a book for Eloise 🥹. Violet was so moved by his gift and here we have a lovely headcanon on the watch:

Then with Pen...

He runs after Pen, despite other men wanting to know about his adventures.

He acknowledges his mistake and immediately tries to apologize to Pen in the Four Seasons Ball.

The next day, he comes back with a heartfelt apology.

Then, he offers her help, despite the risk of scandal and embarrassment for him. He knows Pen has no one else.

He goes to see Pen at night to make sure she's ok. And when she asks him for a kiss, he does it so sweetly.

He is brave enough to leave the men who just want to know about his sexual life.

HE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO ASK, as soon as he put himself together and understood his feelings. He didn't play jealousy games like others, he went and put his heart on the table. He didn't even know about Pen's feelings and he risked it!

Some extracts from Colin's journals show that his family is always in his thoughts.

You can see why Violet, as the good mother that she is, can tell how sensitive he is.

Colin travels during the summer and comes back during the season to be with his family. It angers me that people think he's selfish for this when Benedict also abandons the family to fuck.

And yet, both Colin and Ben are sensitive. BOTH OF THEM, Francesca too. I wouldn't call Hyacinth or Gregory sensitive right now, and before s3, I wouldn't include Eloise either.

Anyway, I needed to get this out because I am so fucking tired of Kanthonies and Benophies making tantrums about this line.

I'm sure when s4 comes, we are going to see a moment between Violet and Ben where she acknowledges how amazing he is and everything he has done for the family. But not now, because this is COLIN'S SEASON.

(NOTE: If you are thinking of reblogging this post with the tag #Colin is the most sensitive, kindly fuck off. I made this post to fight the Kanthonies and Benophie that are attacking Colin, not to validate your own need to make Colin superior to other characters. HE IS ONE OF THE MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN, ONE)

[lovemomhatepolice]

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 2)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no chance that it will touch you after alcohol. That is, when only you are after alcohol. Even though you are in a relationship and even though you trust each other implicitly, THERE IS NO SUCH OPTION. Even if you look at him with your pleading eyes, even dripping, no. Well, unless you are both slightly tipsy and then you land in each other's arms, even more willingly than usual (which is all too strange)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Heck, you guys are even fighting over it. There's no way you're going to get around it without plowing both ways. Drew loves, LOVES to lie between your thighs - oh and you love how he is there, because your man is very talented. But you also take his breath away as you climb into his lap and caress him with your mouth. Let's hope it never ends, right?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Let's be honest - Drew is a man of a million talents. You want him to fuck you hard, with your face pressed into a pillow, begging for it to stop, even though you don't really want it to - he will. If you're in a romantic mood and want to seal it with sex, he'll be sensual and calm. Whatever you desire

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If you do not have the opportunity to have sex longer, quickies also are ok. But as I mentioned, Drew doesn't like to skip the “elements” of your intercourse, so quickies are not to his liking. But sometimes you both want it, and what can you do?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) This man is turning 31!!! (Funnily enough - he turns it tomorrow) We all seem to know very well how well he takes care of his sister-in-law. So it's no wonder he doesn't mind if you don't use protection or are not on the pill. Oh, he would love to have children with you, even if you are quite a bit younger. If you were ready, he could fuck you all night long just to put that baby inside you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) It depends on how aroused he is. Usually you can easily do two-three rounds if you are not tired. Drew doesn't like to finish after one round, who would he be if he didn't fondle his woman to her limits?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He has. Not a lot, but I think she keeps a vibrator at her house to sometimes support her actions and improve your sex. He's not some big fan, but he likes to experiment

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He doesn't do it all that often - in fact, mostly when you're heavily aroused against him, and he (due to the fact that he's quite elderly) takes a little advantage of it. He prolongs with doing you good with his mouth, moves slowly inside you, oh, but how he returns the favor afterwards

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Oh, he is loud! Drew doesn't suppress his moans, loud breaths or saying how wonderful you are to him, how beautiful your body is and how much he loves you. He is sonorous and I think that is his advantage. Imagine that damn sexy voice of his worshiping you...

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Maybe it's because he's an actor - and such a perversion came out of his work, or maybe he just saw such a thing once in a porn. Drew had the thought, and more than once, of having sex with you as one of his film characters. I don't know, he wanted to get into Rafe's or Trevor's shoes and fuck you like they could (meaning he could)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Drew has a lot to show off. He's all big, so it's also no surprise that his boxers are constantly bulging. But I guess that doesn't bother anyone, right? Especially in your bed, as you finally feel as full as you should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) There are times when he can behave himself and tries not to pay so much attention to how sexy his girlfriend is, but this is rare. Even at the family home, he tries to take you aside, at least for a moment to go to the restroom to have a hot kissing session, and then go back to the family as if nothing ever happened. Oh, he can't take his hands off you and it takes so little for him to be at your every beck and call

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) You talk to each other for a long time before you fall asleep, but for Drew, first of all, it is important that you fall asleep first, only then will he feel properly to fall asleep - with the knowledge that his whole world is safe in his arms

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[wnderkoo]

🏎️ back to you | JKK

summary: in which a rainy day on track makes jungkook realise that there was someone else out there that cared about him

pairing: f1 driver!jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, mayhaps some angst??

author's note: hope you guys enjoy!! first post of 2025 ;) another a/n I COMPLETELY MESSED UP POSTING THIS???!! wrong title and forgot to add tags i might just retire atp

It only takes a split second for everything to change.

One moment you can be speeding down a straight at two hundred miles an hour, on track to set the fastest time of the grid, and the next you can be spinning out and crashing into the barriers.

Rainy days are always the worst for F1 drivers, when the roads are slick after a downpour and the tyres lose traction. Completely not ideal conditions for qualifying.

Jungkook had been struggling with his tyres all weekend, with issues arising during all the practice sessions. He had still managed to place in the top three each time, but not with many complaints to his race engineer over the radio.

The rain had given no warning before it started pouring down on the track, raindrops sliding across Jungkook's visor as he tried to manoeuvre through the new conditions.

It was bad enough that he was starting to slide on track, but nothing could have prepared him for the car impeding him up ahead.

It was necessary that cars on an out-lap, or cars that weren't trying to set a fast lap time, not be in the way of the cars that were.

Perhaps the car in front of him had slowed down because of the rain, abandoning their flying lap, or they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Jungkook had barely enough time to see him as he came speeding around the corner.

To avoid a collision, Jungkook swerves, but the lack of grip on the wet roads has him spinning out and crashing into the barriers. The impact isn't as harsh as it could've been, but Jungkook still feels the air getting knocked out of him. His race engineer is immediately in his earpiece asking if he's okay, and Jungkook only sighs before replying that he's fine.

The session is stopped for both the rain and removing Jungkook's mangled car from the track, and he's transported back to the garages by a safety car.

As he walks down the pit, he hears the commentators on one of the wall mounted TVs mentioning the lap times that had to be abandoned for the red flag. At the mention of a familiar last name, his heart wrenches.

Your brother had also been on a flying lap, and he had gone fastest in the first two sectors and was on track to setting the fastest time of the session when Jungkook had crashed. Jungkook hadn't been particularly affected, but realising he had ruined your brother's lap time made him feel worse.

After all, your brother was the reason you and Jungkook had met.

You had come to a few of the races this season to support your brother and had met his teammate. Your first impression of Jeon Jungkook, apart from being undeniably attractive, was that he was arrogant.

He had won two World Championships and was on podiums every weekend, he held himself to a high standard and drove like he had nothing to lose.

After your brother had moved to his team, their relationship had started off rocky. The two of them both wanted to win, and sometimes they fought each other too harshly on track and risked losing everything for the team.

The persona that Jungkook played into made you not like him much at first. He constantly pushed your brother to the limits and put both of them in dangerous positions. He was cocky and the articles about him that circulated every weekend didn't do much to help his image.

As the season went on, and they started putting the team before their pride, Jungkook and your brother became good friends, and now they had an incomparable synergy that led to massive points for the team every race.

It was only after the mid-year break that you started to see him in a new light. Your brother had invited him on your vacation for some team bonding, and the forced proximity had shown you that there was more to Jungkook than he let show.

He had taught you how to ski, being so patient and supportive, that you wondered why he would let others perceive him as the complete opposite.

That holiday had bloomed something unexpected, and although you liked to pretend like Jungkook didn't affect you, you both knew there was an undeniable chemistry between you.

Though, for all his douchebag moments, Jungkook knew to stay away from you. You were his teammate's sister after all. So the teasing and flirting never turned into anything more- no matter how much both of you secretly wished it would.

As Jungkook approaches the team garage, he hopes he doesn't see you. He can't bear to see your face after knowing he messed up the perfect chance for your brother to start at the front of the grid for tomorrow's race.

Since he had crashed towards the end of the session, your brother couldn't improve on his previous time, and was only 8th fastest at the conclusion of qualifying. While he would still have a good chance for the winning spot, it made it harder, and Jungkook could only blame himself, which meant you would too.

He sees you standing in one of the corners of the garage, looking up at the TV as a replay of the crash plays. He can just make out your furrowed eyebrows and your hands covering your mouth in shock as you watch Jungkook spin out and hit the barrier.

The next scene cuts to a replay of the radio message where your brother is forced to abandon his flying lap, your brother's disappointment and frustration ringing loud in Jungkook's ears.

As if sensing him, you turn around, meeting Jungkook's eyes straight away. He doesn't even have the chance to blink before you're rushing toward him, almost tripping over nothing as you speed across the garage.

Jungkook braces himself, expecting you to push or shove him while yelling at him, but instead you're crushing yourself against him and leaving him utterly confused.

His arms come up hesitantly and wrap around you and Jungkook soon realises the small tremors he frels are coming from you.

"__? What happened?"

When your head lifts off his racing suit, Jungkook takes in your teary eyes and his heart splinters.

"What happened?!" you mock, before sniffing loudly.

"One second you're on the track and the next your car is halfway into the barriers!"

Your fists grip the material of his suit tightly, as if you were trying to assure yourself that Jungkook was still in one piece, and Jungkook can't help but smile.

You cared about him.

You always acted indifferent towards him in public, rolling your eyes at every flirty comment and acting annoyed by his teasing. But underneath it all, you cared about Jungkook. Always wishing for his safety when he's out on track and celebrating every overtake. Though he may not know some of those things, he now knew you payed more attention to him than you let on.

And that was enough for him.

He brings your head against his chest once more, and hearing the thump of his heartbeat through the material of his clothes calms you down more than he could ever know.

"Those cars are built for a bomb, sweetheart,"

he whispers against your hair, holding you close.

"I'll always come back to you."

absolutely obsessed with f1 driver jungkook.

@lovingyou-lovee

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'm bored, so take different people's reactions to Xie Lian's spiritual array password ('just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times'): Quan Yizhen: No matter how many fucking times it is explained to him, he will never get it. He will sit there in utter silence for at least twenty minutes (everyone thinks he's talking to Xie Lian), until he's asked what he's talking about to Xie Lian, and he gets pissy because they interrupted his count - by this time, it becomes realised that he has fallen for it again. Extra points if it's like, a super dangerous mission and his team is in desperate need of support so they're like "Qi Ying, contact His Highness for backup now!" while they fight this massive fucken ghost and he goes utterly still, face screwing up in concentration, and just gets pummelled into the nearest wall. He ends up just using other people to talk to Xie Lian.

Lang Qianqiu: At first, he finds it funny because what a silly little joke from his former mentor, if only he was this funny when he had been teaching him all those years ago. After a while though, he starts getting slowly irritated each time he has to communicate with Xie Lian because he has to catch himself out as he starts reciting the Ethics Sutra, silently cursing himself out in his head. Ling Wen: If she ever does need to communicate with Xie Lian, it's for official business so she has no time to think about it too much, and therefore cannot be tripped up by it. However, after a long while without sleep, she will occasionally find herself quite literally doing what the password commands, and will allow a little smile at the thought. One time when this happened, she was reported to have started manically laughing and placing her head into her hands. Pei Ming: He finds it fucking HILARIOUS. Like, imagine Feng Xin's reaction but times ten at least, as he laughs uproariously and slaps his hand to his knee, all the while pointing at Xie Lian and going, "Your Highness, I didn't realise you were such a comedian!!" No matter how many times he communicates with Xie Lian, he will always laugh at it for a few minutes. He's like a father. I if he's talking about using the array, everyone can immediately tell who he's communicating with based on whether or not he laughs. Shi Qingxuan: I honestly think they'd have a little laugh about it at first, and then never react to it ever again. Like, "Hahaha" and that's it. They never really get caught out by it, because their brain is going into overdrive about whatever they want to talk to Xie Lian about so they just break their way into his Array with little thought to it all. Not that they're dumb in any sense of the word, they're just so focused on their gossip that they shake at the bars of the cage without even remotely thinking too hard about it. Shi Wudu: I know he'd probably communicate with Xie Lian through other people but, on the rare occasion that he communicates with His Highness personally, he is not at all amused. He calls it childish and silly. Well, in public, anyway. In private, he'll probably actually find himself having a little chuckle about it, shaking his head as he enters the array before pulling up his walls instantly. Yushi Huang: Xie Lian gets really embarrassed telling her because it feels childish, and she let him borrow her spiritual device during his first ascension, so he doesn't want her to be like "can't believe I let this child use my spiritual device." When he does eventually tell her, she probably smiles and nods, but doesn't give any other reaction. Inside? Knee slaps all around for the Crown Prince. He Xuan: Why does he have to personally communicate Xie Lian? He doesn't want to risk Hua Cheng beating him if he says something "wrong". When he hears Xie Lian's password, he stares at him with a glower that could kill if it were any other person, letting out the most empty laugh ever so he didn't get beaten, before walking away. So no, he does not care for Xie Lian's humour, and did not fall for it - he did. He did fall for it, but he has such a resting bitch face that it's hard to tell. He gets mad at himself for falling for it. He pretends not to. Hua Cheng knows though, and He Xuan knows that he knows. Yin Yu: So, imagine you're an underpaid, overworked employee with an absolutely terrifying boss. He scares the shit out of you. He has a very lovely husband who he cares about dearly and will definitely be pissed off at you if you dare hurt his husband. His husband makes a joke and you can feel your boss' eyes glaring right into your soul from behind. This is how Yin Yu feels when he's told about Xie Lian's password. So, of course, I'm sure you can all picture the - in Yin Yu's opinion - most exaggerated falling for it ever, followed by laughter that reeks of "please, PLEASE go with this. I don't want to lose my job", until Yin Yu has to physically stop to breathe.

[sinsofnivan]

hiii thank you so much for writing carlos

eumm can I ask for another Carlos x reader fluff and nsfw

pleaseee im begging

Have a nice day!

divider gif belongs to kdanie.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA HEADCANONS .ᐟ

A/N: ask and you shall receive. :smirk_cat:

SFW/fluff.

⟡ ── a gentleman through and through. every door you come across—an entrance to the mall or shop, your car door, he always opens and holds it for you.

⟡ ── he also switches to the side closest to the street when you're out on walks, your bag slung atop his shoulder. you will never get the chance to hold your own bags, because he always steals it from your hands. don't try to argue or reach for it. because if you do, he'll just raise it above his head and tease you for being too short.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you saw this trend on tiktok where men's girlfriends wrap ribbons around their biceps? bet. that trend where girlfriends cover their boyfriends with lipstick kisses? fucking bet. make him wear a ghostface mask? consider it done.

seriously. as long as it seemed fun and was safe and consensual, he'll do it.

⟡ ── fucking looooves to flaunt you off. especially when you're wearing a dress that he bought? or when you do your nails the colours that he suggested? it's his own way of branding you, letting everyone know that you were being treated right by him.

⟡ ── carlos also loves the way you smell. he always finds himself burying his nose in your hair when you cuddle. it soothes him. when you're not around, he cuddles your sweater so it feels like you're with him.

⟡ ── not the jealous type. he's very confident.

⟡ ── lover of all bodies too, by the way. he doesn't care if you gain weight. he benches your body weight ( and more. ) just so he could show you that he can carry you in his arms.

⟡ ── also dates to marry.

⟡ ── your number one supporter. if you have zero fans, he's dead. he's always pushing you to pursue your dreams, encouraging you to take risks.

⟡ ── loves to make you laugh. your laugh is his favourite sound eveeeerrrr.

⟡ ── also, carlos is a romantic.

⟡ ── he's the greenest of all green flags.

NSFW/lewd.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you wanna be on top? sure. interested in trying this bdsm shit? kinky, but sure. make him wear a ghostface mask? dang, you're so freaky, but alright, bet.

"babe, what do you mean you want to wrap a ribbon around it?"

⟡ ── does not give a shit if you shaved or not. he'll eat you out no matter what. he's also pretty hairy. sometimes trims his bush, but you don't seem to have any complaints with it.

⟡ ── has good head game. you can't tell me otherwise. he would be orally fixated too, always sucking on your nipples or your clit as a past time.

⟡ ── yes, he always finds your clit.

⟡ ── used condoms when you first started exploring your sex life. the first time he goes in raw, he literally just spills his cum with just a few thrusts.

carlos swears that he's never using condoms again after that day. and it's a memory you both still giggle at.

⟡ ── loves to 69. he really just loves the feeling of your warm throat while he gets to taste you too. he's just addicted to your taste of your cunt and cum . . literally he can cum just by jerking off to the thought of it.

⟡ ── sometimes dirty talks to you in spanish. especially when he's really immersed in the moment.

⟡ ── literally loves every position. as long as he gets to bury his cock deep inside you, he's happy. he's not a titties man or an ass man or even a thigh man, he's an i love my girlfriend's body man. so whatever position you want him in—doggy, missionary, cowgirl—it didn't matter. he's always gonna end up rutting his hips and vigorously ramming your creamy cunt.

⟡ ── both a degradation and praise connoisseur. it's just the perfect mix of both, and he does it so well, too . . .

⟡ ── also, he doesn't mean to but he loves leaving hickeys on your body. mostly on your chest and on the inside of your thighs. he also loves it when you mark him or scratch him.

⟡ ── loves to edge himself so he can cum a thick, fat load into you and watch his cum leak from your pretty cunt.

⟡ ── has a stamina of a god. he can go for a few more rounds after he's reached his peak. especially when you're still horny and want more, he's more than eager to shove his fingers into you while his tongue lapped up your clit.

⟡ ── loves to cuddle and kiss you all over when you're both spent.

⟡ ── you didn't hear this from me but he also loves cockwarming. something about keepin' you plugged and stretched makes his brain go brrr . . .

end.

[forsworned]

It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

[band--psycho]

Sevika x Fem!Reader - Before Things Changed

So this is based off a request from @arevik2345 who requested an enemies - lovers trop with Sevika; but I decided to change it slightly to the lovers -enemies - lovers trope! (So don't worry there will be at least 4 parts to this series)

This is my first Sevika story so please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Sevika Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Overthinking!reader, mentions of loss, smut, fingering, overstimulation, dominating!Sevika, edging (18+)

You knew Sevika was angry, you could feel it radiating off of her even when the two of you arrived  home. 

You didn’t agree with what she said to Vander, about him being weak; but you understood why she’d said it.

Having the Enforcers down in the Lanes was making everyone uncomfortable. 

The disrespect the Enforcers showed everyone down here was horrible, but it wasn’t Vanders fault, the Enforcers were just arrogant shitheads. 

You also knew that Vander meant what he said, when he said that he would protect anyone in the Lanes; he wasn’t just protecting the kids because they were his kids, he was protecting them because they were from the Lanes.

Though you did have to admit that you could see how people were coming to this conclusion. 

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh to Vander?” You asked Sevika softly from the sofa, watching as she grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the cupboard. 

“No,” Sevika answered bluntly, taking a large swig of the drink before sitting down next to you. 

A soft sigh left your lips as you shuffled slightly in the seat so that you were closer to her. 

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right,” you countered back, grabbing the bottle from Sevikas hands and taking a few sips of it before handing it back to her. 

“He’s wrong,” she stated bluntly, taking the bottle back from you

“He’s just trying to protect us." 

Sevika let out a small scoff at your words; as she turned to look at you, “You agree with him?” 

You did. 

Vander was your friend. 

You trusted him

Besides, you weren’t a fighter; not like Sevika..

You didn’t like the Enforcers, that was a fact. 

But you knew what another uprising meant. 

It meant that there was a risk of losing people you cared about…

It meant that you could lose Sevika. 

And you didn’t want that. 

So no, you didn’t want the uprising to happen. 

Did that make you a coward? 

Probably. 

But you didn’t care. 

You’d already seen enough death, suffered enough loss, that the thought of losing her, made your heart feel heavy.

“You know what happened last time…” you began, reaching out and tentatively stroking her arm, your eyes meeting hers, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

You watched  as a small grin grew on her lips as she placed the bottle down on the table beside her. 

“You worry about me so much, angel,” she hummed, savouring how delicate your fingers felt on her skin as she leaned in closer to you, “But you’re never gonna lose me.”

You wanted to believe her words; and put this down to your mind just jumping to the worst case scenario as it so often did.

But this wasn’t one of those scenarios. 

And no matter how much you wanted to trust the woman in front of you, you couldn’t. 

She was a skilled fighter, but that didn't make her untouchable. 

Your thoughts were halted when you felt Sevikas lips softly kissing up your arm.

“Sev, what are you doing?”

“Getting you outta your head,” she breathed, her lips trailing kisses up the side of your neck.

You hated how she could do this. 

How she could distract you from your thoughts with such ease. 

“Just relax, baby,” she whispered, her lips now only inches away from yours; as she ran her other hand under your oversized tshirt and up your chest to your breasts, “let me take care of you,”

 it was almost embarrassing how easily you complied with her orders. 

“Sevi,” you whined in response, laying back on the sofa,  the anticipation of her touch making your core ache with desperation. 

You needed her.

Needed her touch. 

Her lips. 

Something. 

Anything. 

You were so desperate for even the slightest touch.

It was all you could focus on. 

Sevika was all you could focus on; your thoughts and worries from earlier drifting further to the back of your mind with every blissfully torturous touch she left on your skin. 

“That’s it baby, just focus on me,” she praised, noticing how your body was squirming slightly beneath her, a clear sign to her that you needed more. 

“So needy,” she smirked with satisfaction. 

She’d barely even touched you and you were already a mess. 

She knew what she was doing to you; and she couldn’t help but revel in it. Revel at the little noises that were falling from your lips with every little touch she left on your bare skin; revel in how fucking beautiful you looked right now, with a look of desperation forming in your eyes.

Sevikas hand, the one that had been on your chest was now slowly drifting down to the place you craved to be touched the most. 

Even in the dimly lit room, you noticed a twinkle in her eyes as her thumb softly massaged your swollen clit. 

You could’ve cum just from that single touch alone; and you almost did, until Sevika quickly withdrew her hand from you. 

There was no denying that Sevika found it addictive, seeing you like this. 

But she needed to see more. 

That’s why she made such quick work of effortlessly removing your panties and oversized shirt  from your body, tossing them aside, so you were completely naked beneath her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes away from you; she was just staring at you, completely captivated. 

You opened your mouth, to beg her to just touch you; but your words morphed into a loud moan when she pushed two fingers inside your dripping pussy. 

You attempted to cover your mouth with your hand, but Sevika made short work of pinning both of your hands above your hand; her fingers pumping inside you at a relentless speed, ensuring to hit your sweet spot every time. 

“Need to hear you, angel,” she whispered in your ear before lightly biting the crook of your neck, eliciting another moan from you. 

You’d lost track of how many times you came. 

All you knew was that it was enough times to make your head feel all woozy. 

But Sevika didn’t stop; she just kept going. 

She kept pushing you over the edge again and again and again.

“Sev-Sevi-”you panted as you came down from another high, “I can’t-”

Sevikas pulled her fingers back to the entrance of your pussy, her thumb (unbeknownst to you) hovering over your clit once again. 

“Awh have you had enough, baby?” She teased, kissing the side of your mouth, flicking your sensitive nub with her thumb lightly, “I think you should be a good girl and cum for me again.”

You were so far gone; lost in the bliss of your countless oragasms, that you couldn’t deny her. 

Especially not when her fingers started pumping in and out of you again. 

Her words mixed with the fast pace of her fingers in conjunction with the occasional taps on your overstimulated clit, had your back arching once again.

“Sevikaaa fuck,” you moaned as she sent you tumbling over the edge of your own pleasure.

“Such a good girl,” Sevika praised against your skin, before placing a delicate kiss on your lips as she removed her fingers from your core. 

“So beautiful,” she whispered to you, making a tired chuckle fall from your lips. 

Beautiful? 

You were certain you looked a complete and utter mess. 

Despite your thoughts, Sevika just continued to whisper those words to you, as she pressed her lips over the bite marks on your neck as she laid next to you on the sofa, your legs intertwining with each others.

You were completely and utterly exhausted and you could feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, but you fought to keep your eyes open and yourself awake, desperate to give Sevika the same pleasure she’d given you. 

But when you went to touch her, she lightly grabbed your hand, halting your movements.

“Sevika-”

“Shh, just relax baby,” she muttered, pulling you closer to her. 

“But what about you?” You whispered softly as your thumb rubbed small circles into the back of her hand. 

“This was about getting you to relax,” she stated, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. 

You could’ve argued with her; but one, you knew that was going to be like fighting a losing battle and two, you were too tired to disagree with her. 

It only took a few minutes for sleep to take a hold of you; meanwhile Sevika was still awake. 

She understood your worries about another uprising; but things were getting out of hand now and someone had to do something about it, to protect the Undercity. 

Sevika thought Vander was that man, until tonight, now she doubted he was, which meant she needed to find someone who could do the job Vander couldn’t do. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @vvampirelust

[pilim]

cw: pregnant reader, fm!reader, anxious Remus, caring Remus, young Remus, fluff.

tw: —

summary: the reader is eight months pregnant and Remus is very worried about them. sometimes even neglecting sleep.

After the news of your pregnancy broke, Remus became more than protective. It was as if a multitude of worms of doubt were swarming under his skin, roughly and greedily eating away at his flesh.

Milk, nappies, cribs, first baby teeth, colic in the stomach, rashes, baby powders... and the possible risk of being infected with lycanthropy. This point unnerved Remus the most and he spent many hours in the library to find out whether this disease can be passed on by inheritance. You had to personally pull your husband out from under the mountains of scrolls so that he could finally straighten his hunched back and eat. Only thanks to your persuasion, a couple of books with several hundred pages each and encouragement from Sirius and James, Remus with difficulty but still managed to put his paranoia on his plan.

Nevertheless, he did not stop treating you as the most gentle creature in the world, especially before the full moon.

The darkness of the bedroom enveloped you like a warm cocoon. You quietly exhaled in your sleep, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. Because of your rounded belly, sleeping anywhere other than on your back or side was simply impossible. Remus had not closed his eyes that night. He had been lying awake for about two hours. His body ached from fatigue, his leaden head drooped toward the feather pillow. Remus sighed hoarsely, his rough lips tenderly leaving a kiss on the crown of your head, cheek, shoulder. His hands, covered with a bandage, gently stroked your belly. The weight of the child inside you made Remus get goosebumps. The sweetness of anticipation when a small child should finally be born mixed with the fear of responsibility, leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. Remus squinted, burying his face in the neck of his beloved.  She smells of lavender, milk, and something else that Remus can’t quite place. Perhaps this is the specific smell of pregnancy. He ponders, then kisses the soft skin again, pressing it as close as possible, as if she could escape from him. Sleepiness falls on him like a soft lump, but Remus doesn’t allow himself to relax completely. He listens attentively to her every breath, to every contraction of her heart.

Slender fingers gently bury themselves in honey-colored hair. You turn your head towards your husband with difficulty, blinking sleepily. The shaky veil of sleep still fetters your mind, but nevertheless you smile tenderly.

- “Why aren’t you sleeping, Wolfie? Is something wrong?”

Remus shuddered, turning his head towards you. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, gently stroking them.

— “No, no, nothing. Everything is fine, sweetheart. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, slightly raising yourself to be more comfortable.

— "No, you didn't wake me. Everything is fine."

You gently stroke Remus' head, kissing his rough cheek.

— "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Remus sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to yours. He feels a little ashamed of his anxiety, because he should be your support, your confidence. Even though Remus doesn't answer, you understand everything at first glance. Smiling softly, you put your hands on Remus's shoulders.

— "I know, Wolfie. You're worried again, aren't you? Come here."

Remus leans into the touch without thinking, softly moaning. Your hands always instill calm, a sense of security and trust in his heart. He wants to curl up, completely dissolve in her arms filled with warmth.

— "Sorry"

— "Nothing. Sleep, my silly Wolfie. You need strength"

Soft lips touch the place where, according to legend, a person's third eye is hidden. The wind outside the window sings a lullaby as two souls fall asleep.

ps: i don't really like the result, but let's accept it. sorry for any mistakes.

[apollocabinrep]

PJO PRIDE HEADCANONS (FEATURING CAMP HALF-BLOOD) Pt1?

The Apollo cabin is by far the one filled with the most lgbtqia+ members. They hold late night gossip sessions and will tease each other /relentlessly/.

Followup for above; Austin, from canonical characters, as the resident aroace sibling has the most blackmail on his siblings because of these sessions.

Camp Half-Blood has always been a safe place for lgbtia+ demigods no matter what time period (the gods have had lovers of both genders since ancient times + Chiron training Achilles & Patroclus). Members of the community were often year-rounders for this reason, because even if they died young they could be their authentic selves.

Drew Tanaka is on the aroace spectrum and when she was younger thought there was something wrong with her due to not falling in love like her siblings. Silena Beauregard is the one that helped her through it.

Annabeth has to be careful in the state of Florida because a camera caught her beating up a homophobe. (Yes, it was a mortal. She had gone with Malcolm as support for him to come out of the closet to his mortal dad and step-mom.)

Every year before Manhattan, Jake (Mason) and Michael (Yew) would risk getting eaten by harpies to stargaze on top of the Apollo cabin roof. After the Battle, Travis and/or Connor would help Jake get up there and let him stargaze for the night. Mysteriously, the harpies avoided the area as if they had orders to leave it alone.

Cecil is the biggest ally in camp, so much so that he says things no straight man would ever dare.

Cecil: "I'd kiss a guy to show my support."

Lou: "That's not how it works. Also, you're dating me!"

Cecil: "Yeah, but allyship Lou Ellen. Don't be homophobic during pride month."

Lou: "I'm literally pan!"

The Hermes cabin has a list with everyone's flags and are like pride flag fairies.

Clarisse was the first person Will came out to as bisexual. She found him crying by the lake because he didn't think he would be accepted. They got to talking and she told him she was bi as well. "Take a look around, Solace. Times are changing and we can like who we like. Hades, look at your own cabin. You guys may have a single straight ally in there, because the rest of y'all sure arent straight."

Katie and Miranda help everyone decorate with flowers and put bouquets together.

Mitchell and Valentina have a betting pool on which couples are going to 'do the most'.

Nico's first pride month is definitely interesting. He had no idea that the camp would be so accepting or that there would be so many others like/similar to himself. (He spent most of it in a state of shock and talked Jason's ear off over Iris message.)

[misasimagines]

fantasies / reader x Rui (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: Rui!

rating: NSFW!!!!!!!!!

warnings: um. i mean okay technically it's safe sex because there isn't ACTUAL sex but there is fantasizing about unsafe sex. Also inevitable Rui angst because he goes hand-in-hand with angst. Fem bodied reader, not GN!

this was actually like the first thing I started writing for TDB but I held off for months on finishing it lmao. anyway ! >>>

You spent plenty of time in Obscuary helping take care of Lyca's assimilation into human society and politely bantering with Ed whenever he deigned to come out of his room and share details on whatever Youtube videos he had just watched. You responded to Rui's flirts with your own and he never thought his own heart would flutter so much to have a bad pick up line thrown his way. You were effortless to talk to and endlessly patient with the constant mess and dysfunction of his house. You were the one part of his days that felt natural. Blessed, even.

And then you gave him a look. A silent smile across the bar, your chin resting on your hand, your other hand delicately encasing the stemmed glass cocktail he'd slid your way just a few minutes earlier. Haru was venting, Lyca was putting wet dishes away into the cupboard, Ed was floating about like a nuisance in slippers meant for a grandfather, and he couldn't pay attention to anything but you. The curve of your lips that he knew would be soft against his own- it felt like a new curse, shared by the two of you, to never know that feeling. The tilt of your head, the way you looked at him like he was the only person in the room, every visible inch of your skin...he was completely, utterly infatuated. It was a feeling that should have made him feel like he was weightless, to have you look at him like that and know you felt the same. Instead, it always made him feel like he was sinking.

Despite every ounce of fear and rationality in his head screaming at him to call it off, cut it out, avoid you, push you away, anything he had to do to keep you safe, he couldn't. He needed something with you, even if it was just an intangible connection. Even if it was the most selfish thing he could beg for. 

He found you backing into the room he had once slyly promised to let you stay in, your eyes locked on his as you drew him in with you. Rui followed, steps away, always out of reach and dying to be closer.

You sat at the edge of the bed, legs hanging off, and he blindly closed the door behind him, entranced by the way your hand slid up your thigh, pulling your skirt up slowly. Tortuously. If he didn't have this damn curse, he'd be on his knees in front of you in a second, hands gently and desperately pulling your legs apart, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs. His mouth on you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue diving as deep as he could- he'd stay there until you had to push him off from over stimulation. And he would beg for just one more taste.

Instead, he had to watch, his own clothes feeling more and more restrictive as your fingers, not his, pressed into your thighs, ran up your sides and over your chest. He watched as your chest heaved slightly, your cheeks flushed, and you let your fingers dip down between your legs again. They rubbed up and down over your clothed slit, the wet patch growing as your breaths grew shaky. You hooked a finger under your panties and pulled them aside and he let out what he could only describe as a whimper.

"Tell me what you'd do to me, Rui," you moaned, not yet pressing your fingers into where you wanted them most.

He leaned against a dresser for support, no longer able to ignore the ache in his pants. He pressed his palm against himself and could barely blink for risk of missing even a second of the show you were putting on. The show you were asking him to direct, and curse or not, he was getting you off tonight.

So he told you that he'd go slowly, kissing your inner thighs, sucking hard enough to leave little purple marks here and there. You'd feel the ghost of his breath over the cotton of your panties and he'd look up at you, catch your eyes, clouded and blurry with lust, and he'd hold them as he pulled your underwear down and off you completely. He'd kiss your clit and let his fingers sink into the fat of your thighs to hold you open while he sucked on it. While you moaned and tried to grind yourself against his face, he'd relinquish one of your thighs to press a finger to your entrance. You'd be so wet, he'd have no choice but to tease you with shallow touches, his finger sinking in only to the first bend, pretending that he was only treating you gently, not teasing you so he could spend more time between your legs. More time savoring you.

You were mimicking what you could on yourself while he spoke, and your arm tensed with the effort it took to not push your own finger up into yourself completely. “Rui, please-” you whined.

He had unbuttoned his pants, his belt hanging around his hips, and was rubbing the palm of his hand against his still hidden erection. “Ah, I know, I know, I shouldn't tease you. But let me enjoy it a little, please?”

His expression was so sweet, so desperate, you chewed your lip and nodded once. You'd let him tease you into oblivion because you knew the payoff would be worth it. You knew he was worth it.

He'd give in to your need and push his finger into you, pump it in and out until a second joined to stretch you out. He'd be all but making out with your clit at that point, alternating licking, kissing, and sucking on it while you raked your fingers through his hair and rocked your hips towards him. As far gone as you'd be by then, chest heaving as he brought you closer to orgasm, he'd be just as gone himself. Practically humping the bed frame, he'd be in heaven with your taste, your scent, enveloping his senses. 

When you finally came, he'd push his fingers up as deep as they could go, let you spasm and clench around them, and he'd suck your clit until your legs shook. He'd pull off of you then, lick his fingers clean, and lean forward to finally, finally, kiss you like you deserved. His tongue would be covered in your slick, his lips wet with it, and he'd fit between your thighs perfectly. You would pull him in, arms wrapped around him, hips raising in the instinctual need to feel him filling you up. 

Rui wouldn't even be able to force himself up for air, kissing you like his life depended on it, and you would be greedily and blindly unbuckling his belt and pulling his zipper down. He would help you, tugging his waistband and down and letting his cock spring up, already dripping precum. 

He would be so hard- he was so hard, fisting his cock as he watched you finger yourself eagerly to his words. God, it was almost enough to just imagine it when he could watch you actually getting wet to his words, actually moaning his name, actually going to come because of him. Almost.

And you, your stomach tightened as he described how he'd thrust into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him pushing into you. He held himself in front of you, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock, stroking up and down. You let your fingers ball up the sheets. You'd feel better around him, you'd milk him for every drop and still not let him go. You'd ride him until he didn't have anything left to give you and it would be fine, because he'd feel more than his own hand. He'd feel euphoria. He'd feel you.

You needed to kiss him so badly it almost broke your heart.

He needed to buck into you, bodies pressed together, sweaty and sticky and hearts racing. He'd barely pull out with each thrust as he reached his peak and you'd be drooling with need to feel him paint your insides white. 

“Rui-” you whimpered, hand reaching under your bra to grope your own chest.

“I know, almost- almost-” he promised, almost bent over as he jerked himself off.

He'd fuck you into the mattress, your legs locked around his waist, and you'd scream his name as you came, cunt gripping him like a vice. It would only encourage him to force himself as deep as he could into you. It's what you wanted, what your body needed.

You moaned, grinding the heel of your palm against your clit as you came. Your back arched and your eyes may have crossed from the intensity.

He'd follow soon after, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix as he came into you, shaking and twitching and emptying everything into you. Every drop, he'd promise to never waste it anywhere but in you.

You whined uselessly, too over sensitive to even pull your own fingers out of yourself yet. 

He gripped the edge of the dresser and came, making a nice splatter of a mess against the front of his pants and the carpet. It was a terrible waste, and you wondered if it would be dangerous to even let him finish on you. You might not be able to touch him, but could he at least finish on your chest, your face, your tongue? You carefully drew your hand from between your legs, your fingers sticky with the threads of your orgasm. It probably wasn't worth the risk, but it was a new fantasy that would keep you up at night. As if you needed more of those related to Rui, especially after what he'd just given you. Your head fell back onto the sheets in near exhaustion.

Laying in bed, your head swimming, you squirmed around just enough to keep your eyes on him, on his post orgasm glow. His eyes were slightly closed, but still as bright and invigorating as always. His cheeks were pink, his hair slightly damp with sweat, but he still looked like a model or an angel or even an irresistible incubus. The last one seemed the most likely with the way he made you feel and you gazed lovingly at him while your heart slowed to a more reasonable beat.

“Wow,” he grinned at you, tucking himself carefully back into his pants.

“Wow,” you agreed, giving him a tired, lazy smile in response.

He just watched you for a second, and you stared back, thinking that you could never accept this distance between you. Nights like this were godsent, but one day you would feel him against you. You would show him just how much you wanted him, how much you loved him.

“You're really more than I could ever pray for,” he admitted, sounding more wistful than usual.

“I love you,” you told him.

He needed the reminder, he always did. He couldn't say it back just then. He wouldn't until he could hold you in his arms when he did, but you knew how he felt. 

“Mm,” you stretched, “shouldn't you check on the bar? You did leave Lyca alone with Haru down there.”

“Shit.” He looked down at the state of himself. He couldn't really go downstairs with jizz on his pants. 

You giggled at his situation.

“Your fault, remember! Don’t laugh at the state you’ve put me in,” he teased cheerfully, grabbing a throw blanket off of an armchair, wrapping it around his waist, and then rushing out of the room.

You watched him go, shutting the door behind him, and then stared up at the ceiling. He really was worth dealing with that damn curse.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

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[utilitycaster]

I think the fallacy that Downfall/Divergence lays bare is that again, Brennan is not simply a Capitalism And Power Bad guy (and indeed, it's fundamentally impossible to play D&D as Power Inherently Bad - it simply does not support that thesis and indeed actively works against it as a game system, regardless of how you feel about the nature of power in real life. It is also pretty much impossible to play as Violence and Murder Inherently Bad, and I think many analyses of actual play fail when people try to act like it could be played as such). The consistent message is that exploitation and failure to care for those less powerful, and a refusal to change, is the problem. And I think that Aeor and Marlath ultimately serve a similar purpose within these narratives.

The truth of the matter is that Aeor and Marlath are negatively affected by the greater powers within the context of the Calamity. While Aeor has consistently been described and portrayed as an isolationist, authoritarian, and warmongering city-state during the Age of Arcanum and early Calamity, presumably circumstances were more preferable to them during a time of terrestrial abundance, even if they were not themselves farming. Whether or not Aeor's response to the Calamity was justified is a matter of debate; but it is undeniable that they were genuinely scared of the gods. Similarly, Marlath was an opportunistic bureaucrat even before he sold others out (and was not rewarded), but he was still living under the tyranny of the Strife Emperor himself, serving as a cog in the machine because it was preferable to the alternative. Fear was the motivation for him as well, as it is for many who become part of an authoritarian regime.

The mageocracy of Aeor and Marlath's actions caused others concern; but both had opportunity to change for the better. Both failed. They may have again been acting from fear and trauma; but in doing so showed them as entities who would sell out the weakest in their community for their own benefit. Aeor focused not on medicine nor helping their fellow Exandrians, but on weaponry and persecution. Marlath's skills in inventory could have been a boon to a resource-limited community, but he chose exploitation. Selena could have kept her knowledge to herself and at least, in her last moments, tried to save her city if not her creation. She did not.

Within the context of the narrative, the destruction of Aeor and the cutting out of Marlath's tongue are not, in my opinion, joyful triumphs. I may cheer the latter - it is in many ways a victory, unlike Aeor which can only be framed as tragic, and also, crucially, it's pretend - but this is someone who was given multiple chances! Hell, maybe Fiedra didn't make the right choice - not that Marlath didn't need to be stopped (as much was said on Cooldown) but maybe there was, in this case, a nonviolent option. However, it's hard to condemn Fiedra either; she nearly died in the woods and was saved by this camp, and to see someone she stuck her neck out for and suffer with for over a week not just plan this exploitation, but assume she'd be in it on it, is a hard pill to swallow.

And so too in that way do Aeor and Marlath serve as turning points for the people who doomed them. The Prime Deities immediately decide to remove themselves from Exandria as soon as they can seal away the Betrayers again, taking no joy in what they've done. Fiedra tells Nez that she and her gang will be protectors, at risk to themselves, after a lifetime of being survivors at times at the expense of others. They change where others couldn't.

I think a lot of people like to assign D&D villains concepts and epithets, like Capitalism or Imperialism or Landlord or Religion, because it feels very good to destroy these things, and very bad to realize that to destroy them is to cut out the tongue of someone who may have escaped the same horrors as you and crossed the same wilderness. Most people do wish this change will come without "danger, fear, or risk on their part" and are dismayed to find there is not a bloodless option. The BBEG isn't just an avatar of capitalism: they are a person who keeps choosing it and won't listen to signs and speeches to change their ways. Similarly, the hero is not just the person who stops them; they are the person who realizes that they themselves are not without their own ways to change.