#brought to you by: mentally undressing each other with tender loving care

[wardrobemoments]

Jane and Lisbon in s2e03, Red Badge

[mxvladdy]

Unrepentant: Chapter One

Yoz! Finally, I sat down and edited this! (Yaay I'm slow as fuck)

I loved writing Diavolo's True Form piece (Located Here) so I wanted more and really to write this headcanon I've had since he was introduced! It is suggested to read his true form before this but you do you and live your best life.

Anyway idk how long this will be but all the true form stuff will be in this fanfiction :)

Hope ya like!

Word Count: 4k

Rating: General

The Devildom moons glint high above you outside your bedroom window. Their perpetual radiance casting dancing shadows across the walls. The solace of your empty room envelops you like a warm hug. It pulls the stress of the day away off your shoulders leaving you sleepy. Dropping your book-laden bag to the floor you flop face-first into the freshly washed sheets of your bed.

Exam season was rolling in fast and all of the academy was gearing up for the students' and teachers' inevitable breakdowns. From personal experience, you saw firsthand what happens when a demon gets stressed out. Even the lesser demons you know can cause some major damage when they reach their boiling point, though it pales in comparison to the havoc the big seven cause. Just yesterday Beel lost control in the middle of cram school after the teacher refused to let them out on time for dinner. Poor Lucifer was still scrambling to pay for the damages and trying to find a replacement in time for next week's lessons. Then, on the same day at the other end of the campus, Satan all but totaled a classroom in a fit of rage after another student dared to try and correct him. Bless the Old Gods themselves that at least Levi and Belphie were easy to deal with during these times. They were both book smart and beyond capable with their studies, they just lacked the wherewithal to put the effort in. Well, Belphie was more guilty than Levi when it came down to it. Most of the time Lucifer could be seen dragging Belphie to class by the ankle, face stormy with rage. It was humorous to watch-just from a distance.

As for you, you figure it was best to just be out of the direct line of fire. One too many brushes with death in the Devildom for your comfort. During this time of year, it became almost a sport. You got really good at dodging large pieces of furniture and spells during exam week when the brothers finally start coming to blows. Not that you fault them, they were just letting their aggression out as any good primordial being would. But, the lack of sleep and constant fear of annihilation by bookshelf is murder on your grades. After a few meetings with Lucifer and Diavolo, you all decide you should stay in the palace till after exams.

The palace.

You smile softly to yourself tracing a thumb over your clavicle. Your finger ghosts over the healing black marks running down your skin. It was rocky at first, rebuilding your relationship and trust, with Diavolo after your "run in". He acts like you were made of spun glass and eggshells, physically trying to keep as much distance between the two of you as possible. All the while you had to butt head with seven of the strongest and most bull-headed men you had ever met. Their protectiveness towards you tried your patience in ways you never expected. It took what you are pretty sure was your guardian angel to finally get the brothers to relent. With Simeon acting as your chaperone you start to live again. It was nice to finally feel comfortable around the demon again. Seeing him return to his normal candor and temperament again was a breath of fresh air. Thinking of him makes you flush, the cool air of your room burning your cheeks as you recall all the stolen evenings in his and Barbatos's company. All the hours spent laughing at their outlandish assumptions of modern human social norms while they tried to guess if they were correct or not, and then there were the nights where it was just you and the prince. He was nothing but cordial and proper, just conversations between two friends.

A nice glass of port and dinner...maybe an errant brush of fingers when there was no need to touch a time or two. Perhaps a gaze held too long to be considered appropriate.

You groan into your pillows, feeling your heart flutter. You couldn't deny he was fascinating, and yes, perhaps you were a little infatuated with him. Who wasn't? You say it on the daily how other demons fawn over him. He is one of the strongest of their kin after all. Power is a huge part of the Devildom hierarchy, and he exudes it in spades. To a demon, he is the peak of their ideal. Yet, to you, from a human perspective, you enjoyed his personality and jovial nature. It was a side very few got to see of him and you cherish each moment you got to enjoy in the privacy of his quarters.

Of course, watching him crush an unruly usurper without a second thought was kinda hot. Hmmm-

A sharp rap at your door startles you. Was it time already? "Door's open Simeon!" You yell over your shoulder grabbing your robe and go behind your room divider to undress.

"Good evening!" The angel chirps entering your darkroom. With a wave of his hand, he lights your fireplace. The bright flames dancing to life to chase away the cold of the perpetual night.

"Show off." You come back around your divider to face him. He shrugs with a bashful smile offering you the tray he brought with him. His lithe fingers grab the few bottles he needed, leaving the rest for you. You unscrew the lid on one of the jars of salves specially crafted for you. You inhale, humming in delight, and the fresh scent of honeydew and lavender wafting up at you. "This one is new!" You beam dipping a finger in your eye the soft green goop. It was warm to the touch and made your finger go numb.

Simeon nods, twirling his hand in the air to make you turn around. "You mentioned stiff joints last night so I made something to help." His hand strokes over your back while he mutters to himself. "This is healing up nicely, though the color is becoming more opaque." You nod in acceptance. The curse- taint- whatever it was when Diavolo injured you hadn't stopped at just mental damage when it struck you. It took root on your body, burying itself deep and spreading through you like an uncontrollable flame. It wraps and twists itself around your arms, shoulders, and sides joining and merging with itself to rest around the tender skin of your neck. You found it beautiful in its own right. Like those ornate chokers in Levi's animes or the ones Mammon wore in some of his high-end modeling shoots. Yours was just as gorgeous but very permanent.

"These are coming along nicely," Simeon remarks looking over your back. He rubs some of his sweet-smelling ointment into your sides. He traces over some of the more intricate lines, they radiate power heating his celestial skin in a way you could not sense. The marks pulse in warning, threatened by his celestial power. Simeon frowns, taking his hand away. "It looks like Lucifer marks have been consumed completely now too."

"Really?" You crane your neck trying to see Lucifer's mark at the base of your neck. It figures Lucifer's was the last to be consumed. Solomon had hypothesized that since he was the eldest and thus the strongest it would make sense that it would take longer for Diavolo's blight to consume it. So far he has been correct.

Over time you watch as all the brothers' marks were taken over. Their bright colors bleed out to be replaced with an iridescent black. It was a little unfortunate since you loved the colors of their marks, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Simeon hands you a jar over your shoulder while he inspects the growing marks on your back. "I increased the dosage in this, your arms were still itchy, correct?"

You nod, taking the jar. You grimace as your nails scratch the delicate glass. Your skin wasn't the only thing that physically changed after Diavolo's magic took root. Your nail plates gleam black now, no longer clear and flimsy like human nails normally are. They are sharp now with lethal tips. They could gouge stone like it was tissue paper and even pierce the hard shell of a demon's skin. Beel had been impressed by the nick you gave him during P.E. It healed quickly so no harm was done, but it frightened you still.

Tutting, you shoot your fingers a scathing glance. As a defense mechanism, this new addition was great, but daily life was a pain. Your hands tore through everything if you weren't careful. Delicate pillows and sheets were kept far away from you lest they turn into ribbons. It was beginning to look like the brothers had adopted an unruly cat let loose in the halls.

Asmo fussed over you for days trying to figure out the best way to care for them. He wasted some nice clippers on you until he landed on a heavy-duty nail file. Your manicure only lasts a few days at best, but it was better than turning your pillows into pin cushions. Aside from your skin and nails, you could see better in the perpetual night of the Devildom. The blue haze of the twin moons is cleaner now. Every surface their light lands on shines like a beacon illuminating farther than you could see before. Gave Mammon a good scare walking the halls in complete darkness, you didn’t need a light anymore just the moons.

It was utterly fascinating to you, and Solomon. The mage takes every opportunity he could to poke and prod at your changes and charts them down with feverish excitement. So far, much to his displeasure, you show no more magical prowess than when you first arrived in the Devildom but he was certain you should. For now, no one knew what to expect so you were to just monitor yourself and check-in with Solomon and Simeon daily till they deemed this settled.

"There," Simeon finishes examining your back and neck, making sure he covered the entirety of each mark. "Looks like everything is in order. I'll leave you to rest for the evening." He wipes his hands helping you back into your robe before tidying up the small mess he made.

"You sure?" You ask following him to the door. "I feel like we haven't hung out for ages! I could fetch us some tea." You smile up at his soft face. You miss just hanging out with him. As of late all he has been to you is an on-call nurse. It would be nice to talk with him and Luke about something other than you for an evening.

Simeon smiles but shakes his head. "Perhaps tomorrow, Madame Scream has a few new cakes out this month. Luke has been talking my ear off about them and I'm sure he would love your company too." He eyes the door knowingly. "But for now someone else wishes to steal you away." He bids you goodnight then, leaving you clasping the doorknob and looking about into the pitch-black hallway.

It's in the moment you lock your door and turn to crawl into bed that someone knocks on your door. Your heart leaps in with an indiscernible emotion before beating fast with excitement, your brain following along slowly after it. You couldn't stop the smile crossing your face as you made your way back to the door. Something deep within you knew who it was. "Dia!" You swing the heavy door open and hug him tight. The moment your body makes contact with him you feel amazing. The grind of the day is gone, chased away by his warm arms encircling you. "I thought you were busy all evening?"

He chuckles swaying from side to side. "I was! But, what kind of prince would I be if I didn't throw my weight around every so often?" He leans down and nuzzles his face in your crown. He smiles into your hair. You were smelling more and more like him each day, it was titillating.

Dia breathes deeply taking in your sweet clean scent and savoring how his smokey amber smell was mingling with it. It was faint now, perhaps only strong enough for him, Barbatos and Lucifer can discern. Soon though lesser daemons will take notice of his scent mingling with yours. He makes a quick note to tell Simeon to look into a stronger ointment, it will be needed soon. Diavolo pulls away, clicking his tongue. He glances down at where your nails punched through the thick fabric of his waistcoat to graze his skin. "Do you have time for a drink? Barbatos went topside today and purchased a bottle of whiskey barrel age wine. It smells simply divine ." His gold eyes glance up to the large grandfather clock in the corner of your room. It was far past polite visiting hours, but he couldn't give less of a damn, despite the warning of his closest circles.

The nobles were beginning to notice how much he favored you and thus the court was beginning to talk. They were beginning to question his loyalty to the goal of the program, his fascination with one mere human raised concerns throughout his family members. "Why are you spending so much more time with that one?" They ask claws and fangs clinging as they nash and hiss at him, so many of his bloodline still refuse to use glamour believing it was an insult to their heritage. "They are of no importance, playing favorites could lead to a disaster for your crown." He knows many of them would love that.

For him to lose his neck and the crown so the old ones could rule again was a dream for many of them. Diavolo grimaces inwardly, they weren't wrong either. He was infatuated with you. Even Lucifer was beginning to express concern. While having you and the program was raising his ratings and the morale of the general populace, those of royal blood were beginning to create factions again. So far many were loyal, but the ones starting to make waves were the oldest in the circle.

He had plans in place of course, pieces on the board ready to move at a moment's notice. It would be messy when it happens and with you still in his kingdom...such actions were best to be avoided. No, for now, the brothers were enough protection from potential defectors and nay-sayers. He will do as he pleases, especially when it revolves around you.

"That does sound good," You agree tapping your chin in thought. It's been ages since you last drank a human liquor. All Diavolo's ports and sherries, while delicious, did not affect you. You missed the warmth that settled in your stomach after a good drink. "A good drink could calm my nerves. Give me a minute to change?" You step back into your room to scurry back behind your room partition leaving the massive demon to stand at your doorway.

"Nerves? Do you need more time for your finals?" He lumbers in coming to stand by your bed. He licks his lips staring at your rumpled bedding. It was still warm from you sitting there with Simeon. Deep down in his stomachs turns detecting the cherry sweet scent of the angel covering your sheets. He wanted to rub his body on the bedding, erasing that weakling's scent from what was his- He pulls himself back forcing his fangs back down. He trusted Simeon, no one was better suited for healing demonic wounds than an angel.

The prince observes your shadow scurrying about behind the paper screen. "There!" You jump from behind the screen in an oversized shirt. The fabric drapes down to rest just past your knees, the sleeves long and folded several times. "Ready to go?" You come back to his side slipping on your slippers.

"But of course!" He offers you his arm. "Though I am perhaps a little overdressed for the occasion, no?" He ribs, teeth flashing in jest. You accept his arm squeezing it tight and look him over dramatically.

"Yes, very much so...What good is a nightcap if you are still dressed in your day clothes?" You tug at his pressed white tie. For the first time that day, Diavolo laughed freely.

The walk from your room to his was a long one but filled with idle safe conversation. You jump from talks of the upcoming garden parties to what this week's lunch menu will be. Neither of you was blind to the prying eyes and ears lurking in the shadows of the corridors. You were unfazed by them now after months of coming to visit Diavolo and Barbatos during the evening. You became accustomed to their judgmental gazes and gossip over time. You nod politely to one of the visiting earl's and his entourage. They pass, many eyes looking you over curiously. "Earl Jan and his entourage have taken a liking to you." Diavolo rumbles watching the demons wander off to one of his many smoking parlors. "He finds your many human idioms and stories refreshing."

"Really? I have classes with a few of them they-"

"Young Prince." Diavolo stiffens by your side lurching to a halt. His hackles rise.

"Pleasant evening Lady Marquess?" The prince calls out not bothering to even turn around to acknowledge the baroness. You turn though curious as to who drew such vitriol from the normally genial demon.

The baroness scuttles out from where she had been standing, the shadows around her falling off like an elegant cloak. Her pale mandibles click in distaste when your eyes meet hers. Her hundreds of spider-like eyes latching onto you unblinkingly before flicking to Diavolo's tense back. "You missed our meeting on the upcoming festivities. I have some more requests on the dress requirements for the ball." She pauses head listing down to look at you again. Even without lips, you could feel her scowl of disgust. "It would be good for your little pet. Their dress attire at the last one was... lackluster."

Bull. Asmo and Levi had designed your outfit for the last ball. It had been amazing, the crowds looking on with jealousy and lust as you clung to Dia's arm. You don't have to look at Diavolo to feel his displeasure. "Such asinine topics like that can wait till tomorrow." He sniffs pulling you closer. His free hand comes up to grasp your hand around his bicep. “Good night Madame.”

You keep your eyes forward letting Dia escort you. The Marquess hisses quietly under her breath, something dark and biting in their native tongue. Diavolo goes rigid in head-snapping about inhumanly fast. The temperature in the hallway drops.

"Dia." You call in warning, breath wafting up in great puffs from the chilled air. He ignores you, turning his full attention to the interloper. He replies in turn voice simmering with rage. She wilts, head tilting down into a mockery of the usually appropriate bow when speaking to him. Beneath the fringes of her bangs, you could see a smirk playing on her lips. She struck the exact nerve she was looking for. "Dia," You pull on him more adamantly. "Come please?" His shoulders loosen at your words. His gold eyes drifting down to look at you.

"We will speak of this later matrona." He leaves the matter at that leaving with you in haste. The rest of the walk is tense, his eyes now darting to each shadowy corner in case another guest jumps from them.

"I apologize for that." Diavolo sighs the moment the doors to his private quarters close. He loosens his tie and tosses it to his smoking chair by the fire. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a moment." He smiles at you before disappearing into his bathroom.

You take a seat kicking off your slippers to dig your toes into the plush hide of some animal you didn't know the name of and pour out two drinks for you and Diavolo. Waiting for him to reappear you eye the treats laid out on the table next to you. They looked too good to ignore. Popping a few tarts into your mouth you groan at the sweet citrus and mint creme that coated your tongue. Your ears twitch at the creak of the bathroom door.

Burly arms drape over your shoulders as Diavolo bends to nuzzle your neck. "Too good to wait?" He chuckles. You flush hyper-aware of the sugar cookie crumbs on the corner of your mouth.

"You said help myself." You reply after swallowing.

The prince hums. "That I did." He raises a thick finger up to collect the crumbs around your lips. "Ah- Barb outdoes himself again." He licks his finger coming around to take the seat next to you. Diavolo busies himself for a moment propping his feet up on his footrest and taking the drink you prepared from the table along with a good handful of sweets. Despite his casual demeanor you still could feel his agitation thrumming through your markings.

"I'm sorry." You blurt out. He looks up at you with a frown. "That confrontation in the hall, what the Marquess said was about me wasn't it?" You didn't know what her heated words meant, but the context of the exchange was quite clear.

A glint of pain flashes through his golden gaze. Diavolo goes for his drink, downing half of it in one large gulp. "You have nothing to apologize for. " He licks his teeth deep in thought before dropping his head back with a grunt. "What are politics like in your realm? Are they all-" He waves his glass vaguely.

You sit for a moment thinking hard on what you remember of human politics. "Most countries are no longer run by royal families. Though they still have a lot of sway with laws and the like." You take a sip. "But, back when royal families were more prevalent I would say they were like this." You mimic his little hand wave with a little smile.

"Homicidal and power-hungry?"

"Quite so." You chuckle looking into the fire. "Perhaps I can take you on a mini trip to go visit some old palaces?" Diavolo perks up intrigued.

"Where do you have in mind?"

"Maybe Italy?"

His eyes grow dark. "And why there?" He bites out. You shrug feeling as though you just crossed an unspoken line.

"Just-well. Your name, at least in human culture, is Italian, and you slip into it so casually. I thought you would like it..."

"I am not looking for you to humor me." He cuts you off. His glass thunking heavily on his oak side table, amber liquid sloshing over the side. "I get enough of that from the court. I only wish to spend time with you." You acknowledge him with a faint nod curling into your seat. "Ah-no, no mi giglio." Diavolo reaches for you, scooping you up to sit in his lap. "Forgive my agitation. If it is somewhere you wish to go then I would be happy to take us... The south is beautiful this time of year I hear." A shuttered look crosses over his eyes before he blinks it away. "Shall I get started with preparations?"

He pulls you in closer, your heat seeping through the thin layers of clothes separating the two of you. He feels you melt into the soft planes of his body. His closeness soothing the itching of your bandaged and oiled skin. Dia falls silent listening to you nod off on his lap but does nothing to stop you. Closing his eyes he instead enjoys the feel of his pseudo mark upon your body vibrating in harmony with his magic. Stroking your neck and spine he is unable to control the flood of unwanted memories bubbling to the surface of his mind. As you sleep peacefully unaware of your wishes he spends the rest of the evening watching the flames die down, lost in a waking nightmare.

[captainxsassafras]

Showered in Love

E voila! My first piece of filth (hopefully of many, regardless of how long it takes my dumb ass to write it!)! I have no excuses, no reason other than I just want to take care of one (1) beautiful, dumb birdbrain. In whatever way possible. But we all came here to be horny, so horny it is! 🤣🤣🤣

But seriously, I hope you enjoy this entirely self-indulgent smut! I tried to keep the reader pretty neutral physicaly and focus more on the feeling, but please let me know if you notice anything there I might have missed or that I could improve on! Ask or dm, just please be respectful and polite! I'm new so I'm sure I have ways I could improve and I'm open to editing/updating to make it more inclusive! 💗

Warnings: explicit, handjob, shower sex, very subby Keigo, nipple play, body worship (?), real tender smut, comfort sex

And here you go! Tagging some people who might be interested!

@queensynderella @heyitswhiplash @lovekeigo @keilemlucent @keiqos

It had been a hard day.

Not for you. Your day had been ordinary in every sense. Nothing alarming or even really exciting had interrupted the normal scheme of your work schedule. You had arrived home a bit tired, but in an innocuously pleasant mood and put an easy to make casserole in the oven before working on the various little chores that helped keep the apartment clean.

You had been in the middle of moving the laundry from the washer to the dryer when he’d come in.

He had used the window.

That wasn’t ominous by itself. He used the window more often than not. The large window with the spacious balcony had been a must have when the two of you had bought the place and was a much more frequent feature of take off than the intended front door to the place. You probably would have been more concerned if he’d actually used that door.

Ok, that wasn’t true. You were just making morbid mental jokes to ease your own tension.

You weren’t scared.

You were worried.

You were sad.

You were hurting.

Because… he was.

An anxious little ball was twisting knots in your stomach. Crinkles marked the edges of your eyes as you turned off the oven and stood at the counter, contemplating his arrival.

He didn’t call out to you when he came in.

That should have been the first clue.

Keigo always called out to you when he arrived home unless he knew you were already asleep. It amazed you that he was constantly excited to see you when he got home. The light in his eyes traveled across his entire voice and even lightened his voice, taking his normal boyish sarcasm and lifting it to almost child-like wonder. The happy way he greeted you made your heart dance like a butterfly every single time.

But he didn’t this time.

He’d surprised you. You’d nearly jumped out of your skin when he first walked by. Silent as a ghost, you’d only noticed the movement out of the very corner of your eye and adrenaline had shot through your veins. You whipped around into a low stance, ready to fight God and the universe if they were attacking you in your own home. But God was nowhere to be found.

Keigo had stood, frozen to the spot, looking at you with blank eyes and an uncomprehending expression. It felt like the world had stopped. Not in a figurative, emotional sense. He had just been so still that you weren’t sure the world hadn’t stopped with him. You stood, unmoving and waiting for Keigo to move. Say hello. Give you a hug. Anything.

He didn’t.

And you knew something was wrong.

“Kei,” you’d breathed, moving to rush over to him and engulf him in your arms.

“Dove.”

You stopped.

The strangled, heavy sound of his voice sent a shiver down your back even now. God, it grated on your heart. Simultaneously beaten by an unspeakable harshness and weighed down by all the abyssal truths you knew he carried like Atlas.

Without another word he’d passed by, red wings trailing on the floor behind him in evidence of his exhaustion. That was… different.

The click of the bathroom door closing had broke your heart to pieces.

The sound of the shower starting was normally soothing, but today it was just another layer to the tension that had swept into the apartment on crimson wings.

And now he had been in there for twenty minutes.

Keigo was not a long shower person. Didn’t like wasting water. Which was a convenient excuse to shower together, but also how he really felt about it. He was just too impatient and showering wasn’t one of those things he liked to devote his sparse time to.

But he was still in there.

With pursed lips, you took the casserole from the oven and found a spot in the fridge. Another night. The dryer was started and before you could let the hurt surrounding Keigo scare you off, you went to him.

The bathroom door opened noiselessly to your touch. A waft of steam wet your face and you could feel the intense heat of the room within seconds. A purring, mechanic whirr from the fan masked the sound of the door closing, but you were sure Keigo knew you were in there. His feathers wouldn’t have missed the vibrations of the door, even dampened by the buffer of the water.

You were quiet as you undressed. Eyeing his clothes piled randomly across the floor, you went to the cabinet in the corner and brought out something you’d been saving for a treat. Tender eyes flicked to Keigo.

A spike of worry knotted your chest.

He hadn’t moved since you’d entered the bathroom.

He was just standing, water colliding with his bare skin and streaming down his frame to join the small pool at his feet. You wished you could fully appreciate the sight of his naked body. You wished you felt better about being able to see drop after drop caress every plane and curve of his skin. He was so gorgeous.

But your heart wasn’t in the heated looks you wanted to send.

You entered the shower slowly, taking care not to slip on slick tiles. The extra treat was deposited on the shelf full of soap, shampoo, and other hygiene products.

He was so warm as you slipped your arms around his torso and molded your body into the curve of his back. Your hands clasped, pulling him close. And for a moment you just stood, as close physically as you possibly could be. It didn’t feel like enough. His mind was far away still, lost in the echoes of some terrible, terrible secret he could never tell you. Soft cadences of breathe left you drowning in the feeling of him, letting your mind drift away from the thoughts of those secrets and bringing your own worries back to the very real man held so closely before you.

Keigo often complained about his lack of height and how he wished he had more back muscle, but you loved the lean, corded muscles. They were perfect to you. You also loved the fact that you could lay your head perfectly into the curve at the back of his neck and murmur into his ear.

“Hey there, feathers.”

He pooled into your touch and the tension drained away with those wandering rivulets of water. It wasn’t completely gone but the edge was softened. It was a butter knife now, useful but it wasn’t going to cut you for getting too close.

“Dooove.”

This time, when his voice came out strangled it was less… heartbreaking.

“Yes, love?”

No answer. Maybe he needed a bit of help.

“Do you need something.”

A single, slow nod.

You breathed into the feel of him. “Do you need me to take care of you?”

Oh god. The tiniest, strangled whimper kissed your ears as Keigo nodded again, leaning back into your frame. The shower-wet feathers of his wings pressed themselves into your body. You could feel them against every warm, vulnerable inch of flesh. A quick shift left your wandering fingers trailing downward across his abdomen dangerously. Feathers ruffling against your body had you biting your lip and holding back a moan. Those fingers found the wet, curled hairs that framed his groin and the moan ripped free, settling on the weight of anticipation. The feathers on his wings positively shivered while you traced the tight swoops of those golden curls. You knew them well, but still loved twirling your hands through them. A bit more wiry than the hair on his head, they were still surprisingly soft and springy. Keigo assured you he loved your own curls, but the downy feel of his never ceased to make you the slightest bit jealous.

Wet flashes of red spun out the corners of your eyes as his wings shuddered and shifted against the onslaught of your hands teasing through Keigo’s hair. He cried out as your left hand reached up to card through the wet hair on his head. You matched the twirling of each hand, one at his brow and one at his groin and groaned loudly into the crook of his neck. His feathers were dancing against your skin.

Fortunately, you weren’t the only one making noise.

Pain mixed with pleasure as you kneaded your bottom lip. You reveled in the sweet, sweet noises that left Keigo’s throat with each tender swirl of your hand. They were soft, high, and so very needy. So very perfect.

“Keigo.” You placed gentle kisses into the space behind his ear. “I’m here to help, to take care of you. But I need to know what you need.” More kisses. “Do you want me to wrap you up in a blanket and feed you your favorite food? Or do you need to fuck this out?”

A moan escaped that was dangerously close to a whine.

“Ohhh, I love it when you cry for me, babe. But I need your words right now.”

“Fucking.” His words were full of heat and light with breathlessness.

“Ok, love. What kind? Fuck me senseless?” You paused, waiting for a reaction. Nothing notable. Your tongue found your lips as you considered your next words and the actions they might lead to. “Do I need to take care of my good boy?”

He went still. The sound that echoed across the empty bathroom tiles was the stuff of fantasy. You felt yourself clench and knew at that moment exactly what he needed.

“Mm, ok.” You moved away and delighted in the way Keigo’s entire body followed, trying to sink back into your hold. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, love.”

And he stayed where he was, so still you couldn’t believe it save for the heaving of his chest and nearly imperceptible trembling of his wings. You placed a kiss to the edge of his feathers and reached blindly behind you to grab the treat from before.

He sighed into the contact.

It wasn’t anything quite that special. Just a body wash that you knew Keigo particularly liked. The smell always had him burying his head in whatever piece of skin was available, to fold himself in the scent. It had been backordered for several months and you’d gotten your hands on it as a surprise for your lover. You’d planned to bring it out on some sort of special, happy day, but today it seemed like the perfect little surprise to pamper him with.

Covering your hands with the gel, you encompassed him again and started with washing his shoulders. Gentle hands smoothed over hot skin and worked at the tight muscles.

A gasp ran through his body when the smell reached him.

“Dove, you’re spoiling me.”

Hands slid to his back, carefully avoiding the sodden wings. Those got a special treatment and didn’t take well to body wash. Not friends with the mundane, human hygiene products.

“And?” You nearly sang. His tight ass was next and you knelt behind him to take your time carefully washing down each leg. Every curve and crevice was gently attended to. He whined as you swept your hands within touch of each area he wanted you to stroke most. Naturally, you pulled away as soon as it seemed like you might actually touch him there. Deep melodious laughter filled the spaces between his high, endless keening. You could tell the moment he felt your breath smoothing over the supple curve of his ass. The resounding whines cut off abruptly and the intense, broad heaves of his chest quickened and almost fluttered.

You hovered.

He stopped breathing entirely.

You began to stand and as you did, you placed a sweet, yet scorching kiss to the soft plane of each beautiful, taut, trembling ass cheek.

That earned you a whiny, desperate laugh. The chuckle choked off as soon as you melded into his body again, hands sliding around to cup his pecs.

You breathed into his ear and with each gentle word, your hands swept across his chest in ever tightening circles, slowly closing in on the sweet little jewels at the center. “If I’m taking care of you, it’s my job to spoil you. Don’t you think?” Tender fingers found his nipples, already pert and ready, and rolled the little buds in soapy circles.

His moans strangled and stuttered. Grasping hands reached back, clawing at something, anything, to hold to. He needed an anchor. He needed grounding in the midst of every bit of mind-numbing pleasure roiling and writhing through his weary nerves. He found your hips and clung like a man drowning, gasping for air and up to his head in a river of luxuriant ecstasy. He never wanted to surface again. He would drown in this flood of euphoria if you’d let him.

You slowed with his nipples when you felt his hips begin to make messy, haphazard, not-quite thrusts into thin air.

You knew without a doubt that your beautiful bird could and would cum right here without a single bit of direct stimulation to his cock. He was so worked up, you could see clearly in your mind the moment he’d burst, spreading hot cum all over from just the endless, maddening rolling of his nipples. It made you clench and squeeze like mad just to think of it.

But that wasn’t quite what you wanted. And you could tell it wasn’t quite what Keigo needed. Ok, you thought it wasn’t the right thing for him, but you felt like you had a pretty good grip on what this wonderful man needed at the moment. And he had put his trust in you. He had given over to you the gift of taking care of him. He had surrendered the responsibility of deciding himself what he needed and given that to you. You would never betray that trust by doing something you didn’t think was to his direct and utmost benefit. Or to his highest pleasure.

Your boy trusted you and you were going to take care of him thoroughly.

Previous conversations and past experience had revealed that, while the nipple orgasms were overwhelming and utterly consumed him with rolling, trembling waves pleasure, they weren’t as wholly sating as direct stimulation. They left him boneless and weak, but not finished.

You wanted him absolutely wrung out.

Those half thrusts quickened and you left his nipples alone.

He was too overwhelmed to even complain.

“Good boy.” Wandering hands ventured south. “My sweet, wonderful good boy.”

His head lolled back and wings twitched weakly at the feeling of your fingers in his curls again. However, you didn’t linger in those cute little whirls of hair for long. You had a prize to find.

And find it you did.

He was so hard you couldn’t help but bite your lip in excitement. Deep, reaching breaths wracked his torso as your hands moved down his cock at a torturous pace. As it was, several seconds passes before you found your way to the very tip. God, he was leaking. Mapping out the contours of his gorgeous, aching cock, you felt around the head and spent the time to rub at the slit as slowly as possible. Back and forth, over and over, relishing the tiny, twitchy thrusts that accompanied the motion.

A long, shaky, drawn-out whine from Keigo filled your head and you nearly lost it as the feeling of a fresh spurt of precum met your thumb.

“Oh, oh. My precious, precious boy. You like that so much, don’t you?”

“Yee-eeees!” Without warning, his hips canted forward just the slightest creating friction across the tip.

Oh, that was enough. He was ready to burst and deserved the reward of a full-force orgasm. What a magnificent, wonderful man. And he was all yours to equally ruin and cherish with each maddening stroke.

Without warning, you began the move your hands up and down the length of his cock.

Keigo’s reaction was instant. The long, never-ending whines raised in pitch and shortened, creating a rhythm in time with your stroking. His breathing became chaotic, devolving into a staccato mess of sharp, desperate gasps and bone-deep, shuddering exhales that reached into your core and drove you wild. And through it all, his wings pitched in erratic, arrhythmic twitches he couldn’t even begin to control. Starting at the top, where you nibbled and teased the sensitive skin connecting back to wing, they ruffled and writhed in waves all the way down to the feathers at the very tips.

It was a wonder to watch, but your attention was soon drawn back to his face. You could only see the edges standing behind him, but you knew your bird and you knew what he looked like when he was lost like this. His faces were rapturous. Brow scrunched, eyebrows tilted up. If his eyes were open, they’d be lifted skyward like he was praying to some unknown god of divine ecstasy. If they were closed, the corners would be crinkled. Every now and then, they’d crinkle even more, squeezing tight as he was undone by his own body. His head was angled back, leaning against your shoulder. He was too encompassed by the feel of your hands on his cock to keep his head up. But that was ok. More than ok. He didn’t need to keep himself up. That’s what you were here for.

His mouth was hanging open. That you could see. Soft, lush lips slack and loosing the melodic aria of fucked out whines to cascade around you like a filthy sonnet.

Those adorable, overwhelmed whines reverberated through Keigo and into your frame, consuming your mind with the sensuous joy of utterly ruining the gorgeous man leaning against you. The one struggling not to fuck himself into your hands. He was so good.

“C’mon, big boy, move for me.”

And he did, like the perfect man he was.

God, you loved to see him fuck himself senseless into your hands. You loved seeing him drive himself to that ultimate high while you got to coo praise into his ear and feel the way he throbbed and thrust with each tender, adoring word.

One of your hands left his dick and returned to torture his nipple.

God, you almost came right there.

Everything synced.

The stroking of your hand across the length of his aching cock, the squeezing of his sensitive, budded nipple, the endless, rasping circle of reaching breaths. The instant your hand found that pretty little bud, the thrusting of his hips shifted into a circular, full torso roll. They undulated in an involuntary, uninhibited dance of fucked out delirium. And the uncontrolled twitching of his wings changed to match, exactly, the rhythm of his hips. They beat in overwhelmed circles perfectly in sync with the smooth, svelte, seeking roll of Keigo’s hips into the tight grip of your hand.

And then he was lost.

He shattered. He was consumed.

A thousand pieces of brilliant, fiery, piercing pleasure shot through him and wrapped around his very center. A glorious flood overtook his senses and it was all he could do to stay upright with each roiling wave stronger than the last. Hot, white cum shot out and coated the shower wall and floor, rope after rope arcing with the crest of each radiant spike of pleasure.

As for you?

You came almost in unison, the orgasm a pleasant surprise. When Keigo came, his wings went utterly wild; shivering, shaking, twisting, ruffling, writhing. The sudden friction of unexpected stimulation combined with the height of desire you achieved from driving Keigo to Nirvana pushed you over that knife’s edge into a slow, deep, yet surprisingly powerful orgasm.

And there the two of you were, both glued to each other, hips undulating in a carnal dance of mind-numbing orgasm until finally, finally the two of you slowly began the careful descent from bliss. You buried your face in his neck and focused on the sensual feeling of two bodies moving against each other, labored breaths adding extra friction in the aftermath. Warm, milky cum gushed over your hand. Keigo’s cock was still oozing and his hips still jerking in tiny, uncoordinated rolls.

Humming into his skin, you relaxed into the cool down. That was so fucking sexy.

You let go of his softening dick before he could accidentally overstim himself. Not tonight.

However, you couldn’t help but keep your hand on his nipple, twisting and peeking down to see how his hips jolted weakly with each tweak of the perky bud.

You clenched as you caught sight of his softened cock spurting little bursts of seed with each tweak.

After a minute or so, you let up. It was time to let him come down.

But you didn’t let go of him. Instead you wrapped your hands tight around him, reveling in the feel of his breath slowing. A final, deep, shuddering exhale had him leaning back against you, completely boneless in your tender arms.

“Dove.” Keigo’s head turned and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he breathed against your skin.

“Mmm, don’t mention it.” Tired arms squeezed a little tighter in their embrace. “You all good? Or do you need to be fucked up a little bit more?”

His chuckle danced through both of your bodies. “I’m good, lovebird. You got me real good.” He wiggled around to face you. It was his turn to circle you in his arms, pull you close, bask in the way you molded to his body, melting into his hold. He kissed your hair and the two of your stayed that way for a while, spent and sated and utterly content together.

Keigo broke your silence, low voice weaving through the sound of the shower and caressing your ears.

“You know what I am good for though?” He paused, but didn’t wait for a real response. Which was good, because you hadn’t planned on anything beyond a wordless grunt. “You, me, some delivery, no clothes, and the fluffiest blankets we own.”

You hummed into his neck.

“Lights down low, we eat some food, then we snuggle together as close as two people can without fucking.”

A peal of laughter caught the tired edges of your voice. “Ah, you almost made that sweet.”

He spluttered. “That was super sweet!”

“Almost.”

“Entirely.”

“Mmm.” You dipped your head without warning and took his sensitive nipple into your mouth, pulling at it lightly with your teeth.

Keigo’s entire body spasmed, still sensitive in the wake of his earlier orgasm. His dick twitched against your torso as he groaned deep down inside his throat.

“Careful, babybird, or I’ll ruin you again.”

He whined at the pet name and crushed your body even closer.

Looks like he wasn’t as fucked out as he thought.

Your lips twitched in a small smile as you grabbed his ass, pulling him almost unbearably tight against you, and continued teasing his nipple with your teeth. Grinding slowly on his hardening cock, you drowned yourself in the sublime sound of his resounding moans.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey can we get a bit of fluff with ledger's joker? Most fics with him are super kinky and he deserves a bit of fluff

I am all here for this ksksksskks I love loving on J, he deserves it so much

I asked @jokershyena for a prompt so: It’s been a long, long day and J’s so exhausted; he can barely move, but you manage to get him into bed. You get him sorted out; you undress him, clean off his paint, and while you’re there, you take a moment to love on your clown. He’s the only one for you.

Word count: 1, 689.

J was late home.

There wasn’t a set curfew, as such, but it had always been, at the very least, a guideline that J was supposed to come home before you went to bed every night. Not just to alleviate the tensions and the worries that you had at his being out so late - where was he? What was he doing? Was he injured? - but also because you, quite simply, couldn’t sleep without your clown, your agent of chaos, right there beside you.

His warm, strong arm slung carelessly over your waist, his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt you slept in because skin on skin contact was something special for the two of you, something which kept you both firmly grounded in reality and proved to the both of you that you were both needed and loved, his leg between both of yours so that you were anchored together, his heartbeat in your ear, his deep and steady breaths the accompaniment to your own…

You could sleep in no other way, and though J rarely voiced all the ways in which you helped him did you know that it was much the same for him. So deeply connected and in love with each other were you that you simply knew things about the other, even and most especially when they were left unvoiced but not unacknowledged.

On nights like this was the sentiment returned with J’s actions. He was nothing if not a man of his word, after all.

At two in the morning precisely did you hear a series of taps and other noises at the window of your bedroom. You were freaked out and panicked until you heard a muffled cackle, the sound slightly strained. 

“J!” You marched over to the window and threw open the pane, which enabled your exhausted and chaotic clown to tumble in to your room gracelessly, as his head came through the window and then his legs followed, the rest of his body folding in on itself as he fell to the floor. You shut the window before you bent down to smooth your hands through J’s hair, which was slightly greasy and in desperate need of another round of dye. “What the hell are you doing?”

A dramatic grunt was your only response. More seconds passed and still did J remain on the floor, unmoving, and you realised that he was exhausted. Used were you to J pushing his body, strong though it was, past its limits, so you easily slid your arms beneath his armpits and hoisted him up as you mentally cursed him out for not taking care of himself. J was helping you as best as he could, his head hung low, his limbs limp as you got him onto the bed.

You pulled off his shoes, setting them against the wall beneath the radiator. Sat him up to shed him of his purple trench, his tie, his waistcoat and his braces. You left him in his purple work shirt, a few buttons did you undo so that it was easier for him to move around in his sleep and his pinstripe trousers. You even took off his eccentric socks so that his feet could get some breathing space.

Your next trip was to the bathroom. Quickly did you assemble a bowl of hot soapy water and a flannel. J was already starting to lightly snore and that was a sure sign that he was really and truly tired. You had been working methodically all the while, talking to J while you touched him so that he knew what you were doing to him at all times, always so guarded was he. Most especially when he was like this, however, was he clingy, and it was easier for him to stay asleep if he could hear you at the very edge of his consciousness telling him that you would be back in a minute, he was safe.

Carefully did you sit down beside his head on the bed, moving slowly. Periodically did J crack a single dark eye open, though upon seeing it was you did his eye slide shut once more. Right now was he showing you the biggest and more sincere display of trust which you could have ever asked for, and you renewed a private vow in that moment. Never would you betray J’s trust in you, never would you betray this moment, right here and right now. 

You would rather die than betray J in any way, such were the depths of your loyalty and devotion.

A large patch of white greasepaint in the middle of J’s forehead had completely worn away and your eyes stayed on that spot as your hand dipped into the bowl of hot soapy water. You took a minute to just enjoy the serenity and stillness of this moment; of the smell of J’s greasepaint and of the soap you had chosen, of the slow rising and falling of J’s deep breaths, of the way he looked so beautiful laid out before you like this, trusting you so implicitly with himself and with his continued safety, to just enjoy the heat of the water against your skin.

Oh, shit, you loved him. 

You loved J.

You had known for the longest of time, but moments like this really hammered it all home for you, so much so that your heart was currently squeezing in your chest.

You wrung out the flannel and - wait, you wanted to do something which was super romantic and made you feel all warm and fuzzy. If J had been awake, really awake, there was no way you would ever do this, but before you began to wipe off his paint did you slowly, slowly move forward so that you could press a tender kiss to the bare patch of skin, your lips lingering against his skin. With the softest smile did you pull away, resuming your previous position, as you began to wipe off J’s greasepaint with slow, gentle wipes. The minute traces of your love from your kiss would now be rubbed into J’s skin, seeping into his pores and reaching him on the inside.

J’s eyes shot open at the touch of the flannel and you shushed him gently. “It’s okay, J. It’s just me, it’s Y/N. You’re safe.”

“Safe… mine… safe.” J’s eyes closed once more and you felt his body relax into the mattress. Only then did you continue cleaning his face, your heart clenching at his simple words, heavy with exhaustion but just as weighted with a multitude of emotions. You traced around to his right temple and cleaned off that side of his face and then you went around to the left. You left his chin and his scars for last, and when finally did the rest of J’s face only have a lighter hue than the rest of his skin (he even painted his ears, bless him) did you begin to gently, gently dab at his scars and mouth. Red and white smeared together and you leaned in as close to him as you could get away with, concentrating on getting as much greasepaint out of every crevice and crack in his scars.

“There he is,” You hummed, “My handsome clown.”

As more and more of J was revealed until at last was he bare faced before you at almost three in the morning did you feel your own physical and mental tiredness begin to creep in. Calling it a day did you go to the bathroom to dump out the murky water and get yourself ready for bed, before going back into the bedroom to tuck J in. He was supporting himself on his elbows in the bed, squinting at the doorway while he waited for you. He had been awake the entire time you had been looking after him, and it had touched some long forgotten, often neglected part of him. The word love didn’t cross his mind, not really, but the words mine and Y/N had merged together into one, and he rather felt that now did the two of you belong to each other in equal measures.

You crawled into bed beside J and let your body relax. The weight of J beside you in the large bed, the steady rhythm of his deep breathing, the warmth which was practically radiating off of him… you were home, now.

A grunt beside you told you that J was still awake, as did the arm which snaked around your waist and pulled you back into a firm chest. “Get a good look at ‘em, did’ya? Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Teasing though the question sounded, there was a definite edge to his voice. Did J think you had been mocking him?

You didn’t even have to think about it. Yes, he had.

You brought a hand up and over your shoulder. You felt J jerk his head back but you persisted. Finally did J allow you to slide your fingers into his hair, your fingers lightly scratching against his scalp. J almost purred as he tilted into your touch, so feline in nature could he be. “I meant it. Every word. I thought you knew me better than that.” And now you were the one with hurt feelings.

Your hand slid deeper into his hair as J dipped his head to press an open mouthed kiss to your neck. It was an apology for being snappy and an acknowledgement of your kindness. It was the best you were going to get and you knew it.

“Come on, J,” You turned around so that you could face him, pointedly leaning forward so that you could lean your forehead against his, a hand coming up to rest over his heart so that you could feel that he was as alive and as real as you were. “Let’s get some sleep.” You paused and then, “I love you.”

The sleepy hum and the way J pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment said everything he wouldn’t:

I love you too.

Destructive raccoon boii™ @nothing-but-a-comedy @jokershyena   @anyatheladyclown   @mijachula   @joker-daddy    @rinbyo    @imightaswellnotexistatall    @vladtoly    @joker-is-my-hero    @liz-rdwitch   @enigmaticandunstable        @ledgerskitten    @tsukiakarinobara    @germansarechill      @ezziesworld    @antonija89   @acw1

[johnkrrasinski]

the chain on your neck; 

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader 

Word count: 2,291

Warning: too much fluff probably 

Summary: Steve Rogers came home to you after a delayed return and brought something special for you. 

a/n: i was listening to call it what you want by taylor swift (well, it would be pretty obvious for my swiftie followers lol) anyways, i was really inspired by the line “i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck” and that to me, has always been one of my favorite lyrics of reputation. also, the title was inspired by that exact line from you are in love. so here’s a steve rogers fic predicated on that line! hope you like it. please leave a like and comment. ❤

It was 9.30am on a Sunday morning in New York. Normally, you would take your sweet time to stretch in your bed and turn slowly to the other way around to gaze lovingly at your boyfriend. It was a rare sight to see him in such a serene state, so you didn't have the heart to wake him. It was lovely to see him without the wrinkles on his forehead and furrowed brows because he was carrying so much on his shoulders. His duties as Captain America, the missions, the battles, the reports, the urgent late night calls, the miscreants had clearly took a toll on him.

And you being his girlfriend, it was crystal clear to you how often he would put on a facade to be the backbone of the Avengers. Because, everyone is relying on him. There were innocent folks that needed his protection. There were little kids looking up to him. He didn't have the luxury to pour a couple tears to lay off some steam or have a mental breakdown in public. He had to be strong and steady.

Often times, when the fight really did a damage on him and it was written all over his face, he would try to hide it away from you. You knew he needed you, you knew he needed your comforting touch to ground him. He wouldn't ask for it though, he would simply undress himself out of the grimy suit and wordlessly wrapped himself around you. The feel of your skin against his kept him sane throughout all the worst missions he'd ever gone through.

So when you had the chance to just take a minute and enjoy this brief moment of life simply letting your boyfriend be... Human, you cherish and savor every single second of it.

That's your usual Sunday morning routine. But not today, today you woke up in a cold bed alone because the love of your life had gone to another mission in Prague four days ago, and he was supposed to come back last night. You were feeling grouchy because you didn't get your morning cuddles and kisses and Steve's morning cuddles and kisses were like coffee to other people. They need their morning boost to start off their day.

Delayed returns were part of the job. There was always unexpected incidents that required immediate attention of whoever took the mission. And the behest is that, you do not come home before the mission was truly taken care of.

So instead of sulking all day in bed, you leisurely check your phone and send him a good morning text. You figured that it would ease the feeling of missing him. You knew better than to wait around for an instant reply. You were not allowed to check your phone under any circumstances during missions unless you are safe and sound in your hotel room. So you decided to get yourself out of bed and washed your face and brushed your teeth.  

After your daily morning routine, you went to the kitchen to cook yourself some early meal. Nat, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Clint were already there in the middle of their breakfast. They greeted you in your not-so-cheerful state.

"Good morning, kid." Tony was the first one to speak up.

"Hey Tony." In an indifferent tone. You just weren't in the mood to socialize because you missed your boyfriend terribly, and you just really wanted to spend your Sunday morning with him.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood." Natasha spoke up. The woman was always too good in seeing right through people.

"Not really, I'm just hungry." You retorted. Again, with that disinterested attitude.

"Hungry for some food or a certain super soldier, cause I've seen you hungry for actual food y/n, it wasn't like this."

"Okay! You're right. I'm missing my boyfriend and I'm so goddamn worried. He hasn't contacted us since last night, when he was supposed to come home. I texted him this morning and he still hasn't answered. What if something had happened to him and he wasn't able to send a message? What if he got stuck somewhere where he can't find a signal? What if he-"

"Sweetie, I think you are getting yourself too worked up. Just take a deep breath and eat some breakfast, yeah? I'll make you some coffee to ease your nerves." Wanda politely interrupted you. Out of all people, she knew exactly what the feeling was like. Aside from being able to read people's minds, she had actually lost so many of her loved ones, so she understood your overwhelming fears.

You put your head in your hands and took a deep breath and exhaled. You were getting too worked up and you needed to clear your head because freaking out is clearly not going to solve anything or give you any answers. It's not going to turn whatever situation Steve was stuck in and provide you a call or a text from him out of nowhere.

And you didn't realize how hungry you had been until your stomach started to make some growling noises that told you you needed some nourishment.

"Yeah, okay, I'm gonna cook something up."

Just as you pushed your chair back and stood on your feet, Friday's voice alerted everyone from the tranquil state of the room. "Captain Rogers, sergeant Barnes and Mr. Wilson are about to land in 5 minutes."

As everyone in the room had realized what was happening, they all immediately got on their feet and ran to the where the helipad was placed. You, on the other hand was overwhelmed with a sense of relief and joy. Because your boyfriend has come home and in one piece. You were about to see his beautiful sapphire eyes again and you couldn't wait any longer. You wanted to be the first one to welcome him home as soon as he lands.

As the quinjet landed on the ground and the door opened up wide, revealing your boyfriend and your friends, Bucky and Sam on his sides, walking out limping but still with that warm, familiar smile on his face because he finally saw you. Four days had felt way too long for being overseas from you.

He instantly ran as fast as he possibly could to you and grabbed you by your waist and carried you off the ground in a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled your luscious scent. You couldn't see his face because you were also burying your own face in his neck, but you could feel him smiling so widely because he was home and you were in his arms now.

"God, I've missed you so much, baby."

You moved your face to the front of his and pressed your foreheads together.

"I've missed you too, baby. So fucking much." You sniffled. In that moment it was just you and him, because you had been without each other for way too long to have a care about anything else in the world. Four days felt like four thousand years. It might seem dramatic but that's what happens when you are madly in love.

"I know baby, I know. I'm here now, it's okay." He kissed you, it was brief but it held more meaning than words. You closed your eyes as you relished in the feeling of him. Pressed up against you and tangible. Not a looming presence in your room, not a ghost in your dreams, not a whispered name in your prayers.

He put you down as threw his arm around your neck to keep you close. You both walk in each other's embrace to your room. Luckily, he didn't bring home any severe wounds that would require an immediate & extensive care. He could go straight to his own bed, take a warm shower and change into his pyjamas so he could lie in his cozy bedstead with you. Really, that's all he really wanted right now.

Steve Rogers was a man of sentiment. Not a lot of people saw it but, it's factual. You were lucky enough to witness the way this man displayed his affections and the way he'd never let you doubt his love and loyalty a single second. He was an assertive and a solemn leader to the team, especially when he had to save the world and faced the government. But you knew his tender heart way too well to let it affect you behind closed doors. You love him for the man he chose to be even when he didn't.

After you both wash yourself off the dirt, you put on one of his hoodies that literally swallowed your smaller figure. You looked so tiny and adorable in his shirts, he never minded that he'd often have trouble finding a certain shirt. It was always his hoodies, sweaters and old shirts that he rarely wore anymore. If she claimed it, then it's hers. No room for argument. Not that he'd try anyway.

She was drying her hair with the hairdryer in the small mirror of her bathroom when he walked in with nothing but his sweatpants on, he stared into her beautiful eyes in the mirror with a smile. "I got something for you."

"Yeah? What is it?" She smiled back at his reflection in the mirror.

He pulled out a lovely navy blue box with a silver ribbon on top of it. It made her turn around with an inquisitive look. She moved her eyes directly to the box in his calloused hands. He opened the lid cautiously, fearing that she might not like the surprise. Because even Captain America is still scared of rejections, he was trained for orders and enemies, but no one taught him that the little, sickly guy from Brooklyn would be rejected by  a lot of women who couldn't see him past his appearance. And certainly, no one  prepared him for the rejection from the love of his life. His past fears are clouding his mind and taking over his emotions before she even said a word.

The navy blue box revealed a beautiful piece of jewelry, specifically, a golden vintage necklace that hang up the letter "S" in the middle of its rounder. The red rose adornment on the left side of it only added the exquisite intricacies to it. And the antiquated piece of leaf on the other side enhanced more of its charm.  She couldn't help the desire to touch the charming piece with her own fingers. She delicately curled them around the rustic chain, deliberately picked them up closer to her sight; she was charmed by it.

"Do you like it?" Steve spoke up timidly, as if he was doubting his own choice, he really wanted her to like it. He nervously stared into her eyes, waiting for her answer.

"I love it, Steve." She returned that restlessness expression on his handsome face with a fond smile. She loved it. She truly loved it and she meant it. She wasn't even faking it to spare his feelings, she genuinely became attached to it even if she hadn't even hung it around her own neck yet.

"Where did you get it from?" She continued. Her curiosity knocked on the moment.

"There was this local gift shop in Prague, it looked really old and small but still had its own charm, you know? I was walking around one night..." He looked distant for a second. "Couldn't sleep, the mission really carried a weight that day. I just kept walking, taking in the fresh midnight air until I found the shop... It drew me in."

Steve's face changed from an agitated expression to pure delight. He couldn't wait any longer to see it encircle the shape of her neck, so he asked; "do you want me to put it on you?"

"Please." She turned around to face the mirror again and waited for Steve to unclasp the hook of the necklace. She could feel his warm, steady breath on the back of her neck and this is the kind of intimacy not a lot of people talk about, but oh, how much it mattered in the moment.

When the necklace was on, she took her time to soak it in, how divine it looks on her now, she didn't think she could go anywhere without this necklace being a part of her. She pressed her thumb on every inch of this necklace, it really is a part of her now.

He is now wrapping his bulky arms around her shoulders and put his head right on the right side of hers. He looked at her reflection in the mirror. "You know why I chose this necklace?" He left a swift kiss on the right side of her neck where he was just resting his head on.  

"Why?"

"Because it's the closest thing to your heart, and that's where I'm always supposed to be."

She didn't realize tears had started brimming in her eyes, the tenderness and sincerity in his voice made her realize just how lucky she was to possess such love him, and to have that love returned in if not, a greater measure than she ever hoped for.

"I love you, you know that?" It was rhetorical, she knew damn well  that he had it ingrained deep in the back of his head that she loved him. Desperately, utterly and irrevocably.  And so did he to her. It was more than a mere declaration but rather a vow, that it would be bounded to their souls for eternity. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'till death do us part.

"I love you too, angel."

[vangoddamn]

Bedhead

Requested-Y/n is feeling low and Bondy is there to help her. Fluffy and cute <3

Warnings: none

You were laying in bed, tangled in the sheets. You didn't get any sleep whatsoever the previous night and that left you drifting in and out of consciousness. For the past few days, your anxiety was hard to handle and left you housebound for the foreseeable future.

You could feel the dryness of your mouth and the ache that your mental health had brought you. You knew you should probably get up and cure yourself with paracetamol and water, but you made no effort to move.

Days like these were always the hardest, never really grasping reality and never not on the verge of tears. It was hardest when Johnny was away, at the current time he was with the band and had been recording for around two months, although that's what you had thought. But the days had faded and little did you know that he, in fact, was headed home.

So clueless and unaware you basked in the dull feeling and tried for more sleep. Ultimately giving up and staring back up at the ceiling above your head. Feet touching the wall arms sprawled out across the soft sheets that caressed your skin, the only feeling of comfort you had been able to find.

You reached out at the dust that floated in the air around you, all too unaware at the unlocking of the door and light treading of feet through the apartment. At first, when he saw you he just leaned his body against the door frame, watching in awe and love for you. His mood quickly changed when his desire to touch you and talk to you became stronger.

Breaking his idle stance dropping his bags down softly he moved over to lie on his back too. Side by side, he grasped at your hand and stirred you.

"Hey sugar" he whispered turning his head to look at you. He already knew by the fact you were in bed at half three unchanged and spaced out that it was a bad day. But the look in your eyes almost double checked it for him.

You let out a sigh and a lazy smile in his presence, calming you almost to the point your body forgot the sadness it was once overwhelmed with. He moved to kick his shoes off and realine so he was now hugging tightly onto your waste legs in a tangle. The best kind of tangle.

His chin snuggled perfectly into your neck and a tender kiss was placed. With that, your body relaxed and within a couple of minutes, you were dead to the world. You both were. In all honesty, you made each other relax, especially when they needed it most.

Hours later you awoke with the absence of his arms to assure you it wasn't a dream. It drives you out of bed with confusion as you checked yourself in the mirror. Your hair was messy at best was bed head, but that was pushing it. You eyes were sunken and your skin pale, it looked as if you hadn't slept for months. 

You hadn't.

Your body was limp and you stood in a state of melancholy. Moving to get dressed you noticed the wardrobe that once lay half empty full, making you smile. The first time in what felt a while.

You picked out an outfit that was made up of sweat pants and Johnny's old hoodie. His clothes often were more practical than your own, hitting your soft curves nicely framing your body. Something you'd tried to hide from for a while before him.

You wondered into the kitchen wrapping yourself around him as he made brews for the both of you.

"missed you doll" he mumbled turning around in your arms.

"oh, ya did, did ya" I tried to tease but it came out more reserved than I'd hoped.

"I did aye, c'mere angel face" he teased moving to kiss you, his lips refreshed your chapped pair and his hands caressed your body softly before he swirled you into his arms heading towards the sofa.

The rest of the day or more like evening he showered you in kisses and hugs and bathed you in love. You could never figure out how someone so perfect and wonderful could be in your life. You ordered in Chinese and didn't move from your place in your living room unless necessary.

His collection of silver screen movies was binged and you both made fun of each character, mimicking their sultry voices. It was all love and laughs, the atmosphere intimate and soft.

"tink?" You heard him coo from behind you as you were cradled in his arms.

Turning to face him you answered" yeah"

"ya fancy a shower?" With a smile, he pulled you into his arms towards the bathroom turning on the water letting the room fill with steam.

You took it in turns undressing each other, tender and careful. Relishing in the presence of each other and how it made you feel. The water was warm and for a while, you both stood in each other's arms taking one another in.

"I love you, John"

"I love you to y/n"

It was odd how a bad day could instantly fall into the category of your favourite kind of day in minutes. And you could never get over what Johnny did to you. Gently smoothing his hands down over your skin, the contact therapeutic.

He washed your hair making sure not to get any shampoo in your eyes, tipping your head back ever so gently. Traced patterns down your neck and across your body. His fingers massaged your head and work over the skin over body relaxing you further.

You did the same for him, shaving his beard that had grown wild since away. Laughing when he complained you tickled him, kissing the spot you cut when he moved. Giggles and touches soothed your mind and the contact you had been missing filled the void.

You were so thankful for him so that when you lay back down for bed you couldn't help but smile at how he radiated happiness onto you. You knew times as low as this morning would come back, but it made you feel less scared when you knew he could save you once more or at least the strength to carry on. And for now, he had tied you over, nestled into you, breaths syncing.

A/n: Hey my loves, this is kind of short but sweet. I loved this request and all those Bondy vibes, he's such a big ol'softy! I hope that this week will treat you guys well and if not always remember that it will get better, I promise! Always here to talk xx Em

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Four: The Misunderstanding

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this is so late, I spent so much time on this part and I wanted it to be as perfect as possible.

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! There’s some SMUT up in here y’all and mention of fem!masturbation.

I woke up hyperventilating and sweating; my hair was soaked, sticking to the nape of my neck and my pajamas were clinging to my skin. Bree knocked on my door, before slowly opening it. Her eyebrows furrowed at the state I was in, as she leant against the door frame and crossed her arms.

“Did you just masturbate?” 

My eyes widened at the blunt question, though due to how sweaty and distraught I looked, I wasn’t surprised...her assumption wasn’t completely wrong though.

“I think I just,” I began, still breathing heavily. “I think I just orgasmed in my sleep.”

She looked at me with her intelligent hazel eyes and I knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Did you have a wet dream about George?”

I did. I had the most visual, raunchy wet dream one could have. It was full of noises, noises from him, and it felt so real. I looked at her with guilty eyes, silently answering her question. 

“God, Y/n, you need to fuck this man already!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Even your subconscious is fantasizing about his dick!”

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment, as I rubbed my eyes in distress.

“We’ve only known each other for a week, Bree,” I complained, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Well, two nights ago I fucked a guy that I only knew for two hours,” she chided, a playful smirk on her lips.

I rolled my eyes at her, as she began to twirl a piece of her blond hair between her fingers.

“I don’t do one night stands, you know that,” I insisted. 

She groaned, exiting my bedroom.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it!” she called. “And take a damn shower!”

I took her advice and hopped into the shower, noticing that it was still fairly early and I had many hours before I’d have to be at George’s. 

George.

My mind wandered to my dream, and I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing my thighs together at the sudden discomfort between my legs. As I started the shower, the squeak of the nozzle reminded me of my moans in the dream. I shook my head, trying to focus on the water as I undressed myself and hopped in. I squeezed some shampoo into my hand and lathered it onto my head, using my fingers to massage my scalp.

He tangled his fingers into my hair and pulled it back, forming a makeshift ponytail as he drilled into me from behind. 

I lathered the soap onto my washcloth and rubbed it onto my body. 

His hands travelled down my back before resting on my hips, his nails digging into my skin, guiding me, as I rode him.

I leant against the shower wall as I bent down to shave my legs.

He pinned me against his bedroom wall, pounding into me while he held me up, my legs weak and quivering as his dick brushed the pleasure spot inside of me.

I brought the razor to my heat, careful as I strategically shaved.

I screamed in pleasure as his tongue lapped at my clit, two fingers pumping into me, my fingers tangling in his hair. 

I couldn’t stop myself from masturbating at this point, hoping that the shower running would be enough noise to cover up my actions. As I hopelessly pumped my fingers inside of me, imagining that George had been performing this on me instead, my jaw went slack and my breathing hitched as I hit my climax quickly. I rode out my high, collapsing on the tub floor before turning the water off. I forced myself up and dried myself off, making sure to towel myself off down there after the mess I’d just made. I wrapped both my hair and my body into towels and exited the bathroom, my legs weak and sore as I walked. 

I slipped a pair of leggings and a big hoodie onto myself, towel drying my hair and entering the kitchen. I gathered my sheets and tossed them in the washer machine, not wanting to sleep on the sheets I’d sweat through. Bree sat on one of the kitchen chairs, her knees pulled up to her chest, as her eyes ran down the page of Essence, which I’d subscribed to as a way of showing my own personal appreciation for the brand. I sighed at the smell of coffee, happily walking over to the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen. I got my favorite mug from one of the cabinets and poured myself some of the morning bliss, before adding cream and sugar. I took a seat next to her, holding the mug to my mouth as I blew on the steaming liquid in hopes of it cooling down.

“Have you gotten to write any articles yet?” she queried, bringing her own mug to her lips.

I shook my head. “No, but I get to start pitching ideas this week.”

She looked away from the magazine and faced me.

“Have you thought of anything yet?”

“No,” I groaned, bringing my palms to my face in distress.

With everything that had been happening with George, I’d completely forgotten about the pitch.

“Hmm..” Bree hummed, eyes looking up in thought.

My phone vibrated on the small wooden table next to my mug. I picked it up, my lips curling as soon as I saw that the notification was from George.

George: *insert red wine emoticon*

Me: You can’t just send the emoji?

George: Don’t have ‘em, love.

George: I’m an old man.

Me: You must be very wise then.

Me: What was the prohibition like?

George: It was tough, but it was a good lesson for the Americans. It would’ve come in handy two nights ago, huh?

Me: STILL never going to let that down?

George: Never.

“What are you giggling about?”

She snatched my phone before I could respond, scrolling through the messages, her mouth forming an “o”.

“Give it back,” I nagged, reaching out for the device while she pushed my arm away.

“He’s so flirting with you,” she observed, finally returning the phone back to my hands.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, reading through his messages again, as if I had missed something.

“He calls you ‘love’!” she brought her mug to her lips before setting it back down. “And, he always starts the conversation, which obviously means he wants to talk to you!”

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to consider her thoughts just yet. I didn't want to catch feeling for George this early, especially when I barely knew him, hell, I knew his best friend’s personality better than his. Besides, I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case he’d end up being an asshole; I wasn’t prepared to get heartbroken again like my last serious relationship. 

“Let’s change the subject,” I suggested, taking a big gulp of my coffee and pushing my phone further away from us on the table.

“Fine,” she agreed. “I got sick this morning from taking Plan B, and my boobs feel like tender melons right now.” She looked down at her chest, cupping her breasts over her t-shirt and groaning in pain. 

“Wear a condom, next time,” I reminded her.

She rolled her eyes.

“We were drunk, neither of us remembered whether we used a condom or not,” she admitted, closing the magazine and tossing it across the table.

I finished off my coffee, before my stomach began growling, reminding me that I hadn’t had any breakfast yet.

“Want to go get some bagels at the cafe across the street?” I offered, staring back at her frown.

“No, thanks, I still feel nauseous as fuck.” She brought her hands to her stomach, pouting her lips. 

The rest of the morning and afternoon, I’d ended up getting her soup and we spent hours cuddling on the sofa whilst watching all of the movies that’d sat on our Netflix list, unwatched. When three o'clock rolled around, I began getting ready. 

Similar to the outfit I wore to the bar, I dressed in a pair of jeans and a top that revealed just enough cleavage. I didn’t do anything to my hair, but I didn’t stop myself from applying some makeup. After perfecting my appearance and asking my roommate about a hundred times, “are you sure I look okay?” I was ready to head out.

3:46 pm, Me: What’s your address?

I sat on the sofa impatiently as I waited for his response. As a few minutes passed by, I started tapping my foot. 

“Relax,” Bree reminded me.

Her eyes looked concerned, as she observed my impatience. I nodded, taking a few deep breaths, and focusing on the television. As four o'clock rolled around, I began to get nervous. What if he’d forgotten about our plans? I brushed that thought off, remembering his texts from earlier that day, so that couldn’t have been true. I wondered if he was getting ready, or maybe he just didn't have his phone on him. Curse my tendency to overthink.

As more time passed, I could feel Bree’s worried eyes on me. I tried to distract myself with the television, but I could practically hear a mental clock ticking and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Should I text him again?” I blurted out.

She looked at me, chewing on her lip.

“Make sure your text delivered, first,” she suggested.

“It did,” I barked, a little too aggressively. 

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed as she observed my frustrated, impatient state. I looked at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

She scooted closer to me, rubbing my back sympathetically.

“George doesn't seem like the kind of guy to stand a woman up,” she reassured me. “He doesn’t even have emojis! I’m sure he just hasn't checked his phone.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, the tension in my body relaxing slightly at her words.

My phone vibrated, causing me to jump and immediately check the notification.

4:32 pm, George: Something came up. I can’t do tonight anymore. Sorry.

My heart sank to my stomach at the words, my lips parting in shock. In confusion to my reaction, Bree leant over to read the message over my shoulder. Her hand immediately returned to my back; even she wasn't sure what to say. I felt hollow for a moment, before shutting the device off and tossing it onto the small coffee table in front of the sofa. 

“I don’t know why I’m so upset right now,” I admitted, blinking back the tears that threatened to escape. “I don’t know how I expected this to go.”

Bree sighed, her arm wrapping around me and pulling me into her. 

“Honey,” she cooed. “You liked him, it’s okay to admit it.”

Did I like him? Even if I did, what was the point of coming to terms with it now? 

“I don't like him,” I lied. “I’m just upset that he stood me up.”

Bree knew I was lying, so she didn’t say anything. I pulled myself off of her and changed out of my clothes, back into my leggings and hoodie. I wiped the makeup off, realizing there was no point in looking presentable. I made my way into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of red wine and opened up my laptop; I decided that if the universe gave me this extra time, I’d better make the best of it. I signed into my documents and began scrolling through some articles, though this time, trying to find inspiration for pitches.

As I sipped on my red wine and typed away, I was coming up with some ideas left and right. Why you and your roommate might not be getting along (Hint: you guys don’t have compatible signs) - I could use my own experience with my roommate, and astrology being a well-liked subject in Essence articles, this gave me a good chance at wooing Connie over. Are vinyls worth buying? Aesthetic vs Reality - I could use a popular trend to my advantage whilst giving the readers my own advice. Trying CBD oil for my anxiety - I could conduct a classic journalist experiment, while touching on anxiety and trying a trend. 

With so many pros, I decided to stick with the CBD oil experiment as my pitch, but I had my two backups if Connie were to dislike it. Proud of my use of time, I closed my laptop and applied a calming face mask in preparation for the next day. I brought my glass of red wine to my bedroom, as I laid in bed on my phone with the face mask on my face. I scrolled through my socials, noticing that Dean had requested me on Facebook. Well, if George won’t work out... I accepted his request, before scrolling through his own page.

Inevitably, there were photos of him and George, posing with some other guy, whom was unfamiliar, on his page. There were pictures of them at bars, going hiking, and cooking. I closed the app, pretending that I didn't feel butterflies when I saw George’s smile in the photos. 

I distracted myself with some reruns of Friends that night, before making my bed with my newly clean sheets, which would guarantee a good night’s sleep. With a definitely-not-regular dose of melatonin, I was finally forced asleep.

Buzz buzz.

I tossed and turned.

Buzz buzz. 

Probably a Twitter notification.

Buzz buzz.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and picking up my phone. 

2 missed calls from George.

12:43 am, George: Are you awake?

1:02 am, George: I need to see you right now.

1:13 am, George: If you’re seeing this, I’m at your apartment building. Can you please come let me in?

What the fuck?! I quickly sprung up from my bed with my phone in my hand. Bree, if I get kidnapped tonight, you better come fucking save me. I slipped my feet into the first pair of shoes I could find, thankfully being my slippers, before grabbing my keys and sprinting out the door. 

I ran down the stairs so quickly without any fear that I’d fall and break something, because all I wanted to know was if George was okay; my feet were barely touching the steps as I raced down them at such a quick pace. Once I finally reached the entrance to the building, I pushed the doors open with everything in me, the cold air immediately causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I looked around helplessly, trying to find this damn man.

There he was.

He sat on the sidewalk, head faced down, but I knew that hair anywhere. I slowly walked toward him, as his figure became much clearer. I could begin to make out his outfit, which consisted of a black short-sleeved shirt and jeans. I could tell by the fact that he wasn’t wearing a jacket meant that he hadn’t planned on being outside, due to the cold temperature. His hair looked disheveled, not falling into its usual perfect waves. His face was buried in the palms of his hands, the veins from the backs of his hands traveling up to his arms; I remembered noticing that feature when he’d driven me home. 

I took a seat beside him, subconsciously putting my hand onto his back and rubbing wide circles. I watched him, waiting for him to release his face from his hands. After a few minutes of silence, just sitting in New York noise, he brought his face from his hands and turned to me, revealing a bruised eye, a bloody nose, and a split lip. I brought my hand to my mouth in shock, as my eyes examined the wounds on his face. He stared at me with eyes that looked scared–this terrified me. 

I grabbed his hand, suddenly noticing that his knuckles were bruised. I looked at him with worried eyes, before standing up and leading him into the building. We walked up the stairs in silence, the only noises being my own thoughts that were somehow louder than the echoes of our footsteps. Once we’d finally made it to my door, I opened it quietly, careful not to awaken my roommate. I turned the lights on, as I then led him to the small bathroom. I patted the toilet seat cover, gesturing for him to sit down. He silently sat down, as I opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and scavenged for disinfectants and bandages. Once I’d gotten all the necessary materials out, I aligned them on the sink and started with some hydrogen peroxide. I applied the liquid to a cotton swab, carefully dabbing at the cut on his lip.

After cleaning that up, I grabbed a washcloth from the closet and ran it under the faucet, soaking it in warm water. I rung it out, before carefully wiping the dry blood underneath and around his nose. As I strategically tended to his wounds, I could feel his stare on me, watching as I took care of him. 

“Thank you,” he professed, his voice raspy and dry.

“Just returning the favor,” I looked down at him, referring to the night he’d taken care of me.

There was silence after I’d spoken. Maybe he believed me, that I was only taking care of him because I had owed him a favor.

“I got into a fight,” he admitted, his accent even more accentuated with the combination of the raspiness. 

I chewed on my lip, trying to focus on cleaning his face.

“I can tell,” I stated, keeping my eyes on his wounds.

“I don’t usually get into fights,” he elaborated.

I dropped the washcloth onto the sink, returning my attention to the conversation.

“Then, what sparked this?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, reminding me of his bruised knuckles. I carefully picked up his hand after drenching more cotton swabs with the hydrogen peroxide, and meticulously cleaned the small cuts.

“My friend, Andrew. He’s Dean’s roommate, he uhm,” he began, stuttering. “He had an overdose today, at approximately three. Dean called me and I drove to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

I wondered if Andrew was the unfamiliar face I’d seen in the Facebook photos on Dean’s profile earlier. 

“He was out, cold for a little while. They weren’t sure he was going to make it,” he confessed, eyes starting to tear up. “Dean and I were in the waiting room for hours, just waiting for anything. The doctor still wouldn’t let us see him, and that’s when I went mad. I punched the poor bloke, Dean had to fucking tackle me out of the hospital to calm down. Bloody bastard got a few hits on me, trying to get me off of the poor man,” he chuckled softly, pointing to his black eye.

I smiled a little, tossing the cotton swabs and looking down at him as he continued, giving him my full attention.

“Once they finally let us see him, we finally understood what they didn’t want us to see,” his voice cracked, and I could see the sadness in his eyes as he recalled the memory. “He wasn’t in his right mind, he hasn’t been in his right mind for a while, but it was different this time. It was really scary, Y/n.”

A tear rolled down his cheek, as his bottom lip trembled. 

“I didn’t know what to do, we were both mortified,” he croaked.

I knelt down, bringing my hands to his cheeks, gently. My thumbs wiped at the tears that were spilling from his eyes. I hated seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken.

“I’m here,” I assured him, staring into his blue eyes that looked deeper than a thundering, stormy ocean now. 

He pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me as he sobbed into the crook of my neck. I could feel my heart breaking in this moment. How could I have been so mad at him earlier? How could I have been so misunderstanding of the situation? My fingers tangled themselves in his hair as I attempted to soothe him. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into my shoulder, his voice muffled.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I reassured him softly, running my fingers down.

He pulled away, revealing his eyes puffy and red, his nose and lips swollen as well. I frowned, grabbing a new washcloth and wetting it with cold water this time, dabbing at his face, in attempt to calm the puffiness whilst wiping his face of tears. 

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” I asked, removing the washcloth from his face and setting it next to the other one I’d used. 

He nodded silently, watching me as I cleaned up the mess I’d made. I put all the materials back into the cabinet, leaving the washcloths in the sink to deal with the next day. He stood up from the toilet seat cover, and followed me to my bedroom. I turned the lamp on beside my bed, as he entered the room slowly behind me.

“Do you have my uhm,” he began, his voice cracking.

“Yes!”

I knew exactly what he was going to say before it left his mouth; I quickly grabbed his sweater and joggers from my closet. I handed them to him, turning around to give him some privacy. As I heard the motion of him undressing, the reality set in that George was in my bedroom and I thanked the heavens above that I’d washed my sheets earlier that day. 

“You can turn around.”

I did as he said, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him. It was nice, seeing him in the clothes that I, myself, had been wearing not too long ago; the fabric clung to his figure perfectly, contrasting to the oversized fit on my body. 

“Do you need anything else?” I questioned sincerely.

He shook his head.

“Okay, I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” I concluded, making my way out of the bedroom.

“Wait,” he objected.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him in confusion.

“C-can you uhm,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Can you sleep with me?”

My eyes widened and I swore my jaw had almost dropped. 

“If you don't want to, that’s fine–” he babbled, before I interrupted him.

“I don’t mind, George.”

I closed the bedroom door before climbing onto my mattress as he did the same. Given my smaller mattress, it gave us less individual room to lay comfortably. I ended up on my side, as close to the edge as possible in order to give him as much room on the mattress as possible.

“Do you have enough room?” I queried.

“Y/n, I have more than enough room. A-are you sure you’re comfortable with this? You’re about to fall off,” he observed, concerned.

“Y-yeah,” I began nervously. “I just wanted to make sure you had enough space.”

“I have plenty of space. You can come closer, if you want,” he offered.

I obliged, moving myself closer to him. We were both laying on our sides now, staring at one another.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, wanting to confirm one last time before I turned the lights off.

He nodded his head, cracking a small smile.

I leant over, turning the lamp off and returning to my position. I couldn't see anything, as my pupils adjusted to the sudden darkness in the room, but I could feel him right there. 

“Goodnight, George,” I whispered to his unseen figure.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

[avengerscompound]

When She’s Away - Part 2

When She’s Away:  A Black Widow Fanfic PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  2428

Warnings:  Smut (F|F, remote vibrate use, public sex things, masturbation, edging, videophone sex)

Synopsis:  Natasha is away a lot.  The two of you hate the time apart.  That is until Nat finds a way to keep you entertained when she’s not there.

When She’s Away: Part 2

For the first time ever, Natasha going away on a mission actually made you excited.  You were still nervous and you knew you would miss her.  You always did.  It had gotten to the point it didn’t even matter you could stretch out further in the bed when she wasn’t there, there was something about her presence that made you sleep better.

This time there was something to look forward to.  You had the vibrator and you were going to mess around with it.  You were excited.

You were a little worried about how loud it was.  Not that it was super noisy but you could definitely hear the buzz in most rooms even if there was background noise.  So you made a rule.  Natasha had to call or text you first to make sure you weren’t somewhere completely inappropriate.  If the coast was clear it was game on.

Pepper took you to see her dress designer one Saturday morning while Natasha was away.  The two of you went to their studio in SoHo with Pepper’s wedding planner.  She was extremely excited.  This dress had taken a lot of work to get how she wanted it, and now it was almost finished.  She was in the final adjustment phase and she wanted you to take photos and send them to her other bridesmaids.  You were also to try on your own dress and have photos of that sent to them too so they could have final input on design.

You were excited for her, but this was not exactly your thing.  It was Pepper though and she deserved to have you there helping as best you could.

She didn’t need to know you were wearing the vibrator.

When you arrived at the studio the designer, Paulo greeted the three of you at the door.  He had champagne and a plate of snacks including a mini wedding cake made of lemon sponge sitting on a coffee table.  Around the walls of the room were racks of clothes in different states of being finished.  On the one side of the room where floor to ceiling window that looked out towards the Hudson, though the city blocked the views of it.

“Ms. Potts, come through here and we’ll see how the dress looks,”  Paulo said without even saying hello to anyone.  He pointed to a room at the end and just ushered Pepper down there.

She looked back at you without breaking her stride.  “You stay here.  Eat, have a drink.  I want you to see it on.”

You took a seat and poured yourself a glass of champagne as they disappeared through the door.  No sooner were you taking a sip that your phone started to ring.

"Hey, Tasha, what are you up to?"  You asked.

"Not a lot. The bigger question is, what are you up to?" Natasha purred down the line.

You swallowed and squeezed your legs together, the vibrator shifted inside you and pressed down on your clit. You knew what she wanted and this time, and at this place, it was as exciting as it could be.   "Just looking at dresses with Pepper."

"Bad time?" Natasha asked.

"No, Pepper's just having the dress fitted," you replied.  “I’m alone.”

The vibrator buzzed to life and you let out a quiet squeak.  "Just say 'you look beautiful' and I'll switch it off,"  Natasha growled.

"Okay," you said softly.  The buzz was sending an intense tingle through you.  It made you whimper a little and squeeze your legs together, which just increased the pressure of the buzz against you.

"Quiet now, mishka," Natasha purred.  You started to rock on the chair a little, trying to bring along an orgasm as quickly as you could.  It made the vibrate press and release both against your clit and on your g-spot. "You like that, Printsessa? You like me getting you off while I'm on the other side of the world from you?"

"Yes," you whispered.  You were being brought to the edge really fast. The public nature of the game. Getting to hear her talk dirty to you.  You felt like an exposed wire.  Natasha kept changing the settings on the vibrator too. Increasing the buzz before dropping it off again.  You started panting, the occasional whimper escaping from you as the buzz sent a warm tingle through you that seemed to press down in your core.

"I can hear you. You gonna come for me, mishka? This soon?"  Natasha purred.

"I don't know," you answered trying to keep your voice steady as you rocked against the chair and your legs began to tremble.

"I understand, my darling," she growled.  “You want me there with you.  You want my fingers inside you working your special spot like that.  You want it to be my tongue on your clit.  Isn’t that right, mishka?”

"Uh huh."  You mewled, her words making the feeling inside you even more intense.

"Poor, little mouse.  I'll be home soon enough and I promise, I'll fuck you so hard. You won't be able to walk straight." Natasha cooed.

You choked back a moan.  You were right there on the edge, you were sure of it.  Your whole body seemed to be trembling ready for your orgasm to break.  You ground down on the couch and the door opened and Pepper stepped out.

"Oh my god, Pepper you look so beautiful!"  You yelped. The vibrator switched off and you jumped up out off of the couch.  You were glad you were wearing a skirt because your panties were soaked and you were pretty sure you would have had a wet patch on your pants.

"Gotta go, Natasha," you said, quickly as you moved towards Pepper.

"I'll call you tonight."  She said.   You could practically hear the smirk in her voice.  "I Love you, mishka."

"Love you too," you replied as you mentally cursed yourself.  You had not thought this through at all.  You were going to be overwound all day and you knew Natasha was going to try and make that worse.

You hung up the phone and came over to Pepper.  Her dress was layer upon layer of lace applique over a nude base and lace capped sleeves.  She looked radiant in it.  It suited her perfectly.  “Oh, my god, Pepper.  You look like a princess.”  You said.  “Tony is so going to cry when he sees you.”

“That’s what I was going for,”  Pepper teased as Paulo fussed around her.  “Take a photo and then we’ll get you in yours.”  She said.

When you got home you texted Natasha to tell her that you were back. She then spent the rest of the afternoon and some of the night torturing you.  You were in your office working on a paper the first time it went off. It shocked you coming out of nowhere like that.  You moaned and gripped the desk and ground against your office chair.  You could feel your orgasm building as little tendrils of pleasure crept through you and tightened in your core.  You pushed down into the chair and tried to picture Natasha holding you down and fucking you.  You didn't even come close to orgasming before she switched it off.

The next time you were doing the dishes.  You almost smashed a plate when she switched it on. It slipped from your fingers and crashed back into the water.  You leaned against the counter as your knees buckled.  The buzz spread from your cunt out to the rest of you slowly and you squeezed your legs and rubbed them together as you tried to bring yourself over. This time you came close.  You were right there on the edge, panting and moaning.   Your rested your forehead on your arms and when it stopped suddenly and you let out a frustrated sigh.

She did it when you were eating dinner.  When you were watching TV.  While snacking on some popcorn. When you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth.  She never left it on long enough to get you off and by the time you video chatted with each other, your clit was swollen and your panties were soaked.

"How are you doing, mishka?" Natasha asked, smirking.

"Oh yeah. You know... if you don't let me get off now I'll probably kill you." You deadpanned as you carried your phone to the bedroom.

"Oh, poor baby. I better take care of you then." She cooed. "Take off your clothes for me."

You propped your phone at the end of the bed and stripped off your clothes.  When you were completely naked you pulled the vibrator out.  It was a sticky mess and your pussy felt sensitive and tingled slightly.   You put the toy on the side table and grabbed your favorite one that looked like a little pink loch ness monster before sitting up against the headboard with your legs spread.

Natasha was sitting on the sofa in a hotel.  She had propped her Stark Pad in front of her on the coffee table so you were looking up at her with her legs spread apart.  She was still fully clothed though. Dressed in the black catsuit that she must have been wearing on her mission today.

"Fuck, Mishka. Look at what I did to you. God; if I was there..."  She groaned and her hand went to her crotch and she palmed her cunt, a look of pure pleasure on her face.

"Yeah, what would you do?"  You asked and started stroking your fingers over your tender pussy. It sent a shudder through you.  Your cunt was hot and wet and so sensitive you didn't think you would be able to last long.

"I'd tie those hands of yours over your head, to begin with, so you couldn't touch yourself."  She growled.

"Take off your clothes,"  You said, continuing to gently tease your pussy.

“Oh, are you the boss now?”  She teased as she toyed with the zipper, flicking it up and down at her cleavage.

“For the moment.”  You teased.

Natasha stood so that for a moment all you could see was her stomach and the top of her thighs.  She slowly unzipped her catsuit so the pale white skin of her stomach came into view.  She pushed it down and smirked at you through the screen as you got a good look at her tits swinging free as she undressed.  Her panties were a simple black and she turned around and showed off her ass as she removed them too.  When she turned back you were greeted with a close-up view of her small patch of red pubic hair before she climbed into bed.

She resumed her position on the bed, her legs spread and her cunt on display.  You hummed appreciatively.

She smiled that half smile of hers and quirked an eyebrow at you.  “You like that, do you?”

“Mm-hmm…”  You hummed.  “Play with your tits.”

She began to squeeze her breasts and pinched and pulled at her nipples.  “Like this?”

You shivered and nodded your head.  Your mouth felt dry as you watched her pull her nipples to hardened peaks.  Her pussy started to glisten with her own arousal.  “Now, run one of your hands down your stomach and start fingering yourself.”

“Mishka,”  She said with a warning growl.

“Please,”  You said.  “Then tell me what you’d do to me next.”

Natasha ran her hand down her stomach and her fingers slipped between her folds.  She let out a predatory sounding purr as she circled her clit.  A shiver ran through her and a sudden gush of fluids dripped from your cunt on the mattress.

“Mm… look at you, mishka,”  Natasha groaned.  “I’d lick all of that up if I was there.  I want to taste you.  Do it for me, darling.  Tell me what I’m missing.”

You pushed your fingers inside of your cunt.  The brief stretch of your entrance made your hips buck.  You pulled your fingers free and sucked them on them, moaning as the salty/sweet flavor coated your tongue.  “It’s like eating lychees by the beach.”

“That’s it, my darling.”  Natasha hummed.  “I’d drink that up.  Then I’d start fingering you.  I’d use three fingers I think.  Really stretch that pussy out.”

You lubed up your vibrator and pushed it into yourself.  Natasha was using her fingers on her self.  She pushed two inside of her and as she thrust them in and out you could see her fluids run down her digits.  You moaned loudly and arched up off the mattress as you turned on the vibrator and pushed it against your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Then when you came, I’d put on the strap on and start fucking you.  I’d make you put that vibe in again so that you’d come and you wouldn’t be able to stop.  You’d start begging me to let you stop.  I do so love it when you beg.”   She growled.

She was bringing herself along quickly.  Her own words turning herself on as much as it did you.  “Oh god, yes.  Please, Natalia.”  You moaned as you fucked yourself with your vibrator, pushing it hard against your g-spot and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.  Your legs hard started to tremble with it and your cunt dripped and ached, needing that relief.

“That’s it, Mishka,”  She growled.  “Be me to come.  Beg me.”

“Please, Natalia.  I wanna come.  I need it.  Please.”  You pleaded, sure that regardless of her permission or not you were going to either way.

“Good girl.”  She purred.  “You’re always so good for me.  Of course, you can come.  Come for me, mishka.”

You pushed the vibe hard against your g-spot as you held it on your clit.  You came hard.  Your hips bucked up and you cried out, snapping your legs closed around the vibe.

Natasha jerked suddenly and her muscles all tightened as she moaned and came around her fingers.

“Bozhe moi, I love watching you come.”  She breathed.

You panted and pulled the vibrator away.  “I like watching you too.  The way all your muscles tighten up when you do is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She smiled and slowly licked her fingers clean.  “Today was fun, wasn’t it?”  She said.

“Mm-hmm…”  You agreed.  “I still miss you though.”

“I miss you too.  I’ll be home soon enough and then we can do this properly again.”

You smiled and blew her a kiss.  “I can’t wait, Tasha.”

[ndanya-qiri-ffxiv]

Return me to the Sea

WARNING: This is probably the heaviest piece that I’ve ever written. Really, I’m proud of it. That said, it deals with the following topics: Death, mental illness / madness, and suicide. 

I don’t normally put warnings but I know not everyone wants to read something depressing so I figured I’d let you know. I hope you do because, again, I’m proud of this one. 

It is a hypothetical scene based on one of the outcomes that is possible given Aebbe’s current plot with her mate. It’s been stuck in my head and I had to get it out. If you do read it, I’d love to hear feedback. The rest is under the cut.

“Go away, go away. Please go away,” Jaina’s whimpering from the bedroom of the seaside cottage was how it started. It was a familiar cadence by now, and Aebbe was already rising from the chair in the main room when Jaina spoke again, “Aebbe - AEBBE!”

The hyur made her way back into the bedroom, straight for the bed. Jaina was huddled in the bed, against the wall, wide-eyed and shaking. Her eyes darted around the room, moving from one unseen face to another. She was, by now, thin and malnourished. Dark bags beneath her eyes. Aebbe slid into bed beside her, slow and steady, and only finished approaching when Jaina focused on her.

The small miqo’te immediately tucked herself into Aebbe’s side, buried her face into the woman’s shoulder, “They’re here - they’re here and they’re yelling and they won’t stop.”

Aebbe said nothing, only slipped her arms around her mate and held her close, rocking her gently. A moment later, and she was singing a quiet lullaby in a hoarse and tired voice. Nothing worked any longer to fully calm her. The lullabies, the drugs, the alcohol - they had all stopped calming her entirely long ago. They’d been here months, and the descent had been steady and fierce.

The strongest woman Aebbe had ever known was a shattered husk, and there was nothing that she could do about it. Tears had stopped flowing when the voices became constant, and her fate became crystal clear. She had known what coming here with Jaina meant, eventually. She had accepted it.

The lullaby, at the very least, gave something for Jaina to still anchor to. To focus on. She clung to Aebbe, shaking and whimpering and begging. Eventually, she stilled and quieted enough in Aebbe’s arms that the hyur drifted off into another restless loss of consciousness.

She woke to a fit of coughing from the woman that rested against her side, followed by ragged breathing. Aebbe stared at the ceiling blankly, but she felt her chest tighten. She’d heard breathing like that before, when her own mother finally wasted away. She reached up to gently stroke her hand through Jaina’s hair, over her ears. There was no responding wiggle from the miqo’te’s ear - a sure sign something was wrong.

The cottage was silent save for their breathing, and the distant sounds of crashing waves against the beach. It remained that way for some time - she’d long stopped trying to track it - before another cough rattled from Jaina, and the smaller woman stirred. “Aebbe,” she spoke weakly, but there was a difference in her tone. No panic. No fear. No desperation.

Aebbe blinked a few times to refocus and looked down at the woman, and she found Jaina looking up at her with sudden, intense clarity, though the light behind her eyes was weak and faded.

“Aebbe Spera,” Jaina said, with a tired, tender smile, “I love you. I don’t feel well. Can you stay with me?”

The hyur found her throat and chest tightening up at her words. At the clarity and focus. Aebbe immediately and vigorously nodded - it had been weeks since she’d look so clear-eyed. Still, she can barely manage a response, “Yes.”

Jaina nodded and rested her head back against the crook of her mate’s shoulder and throat. Silence fell over them again, save for the ragged breathing of Jaina and the soft sounds as Aebbe stroked her hair and ears gently.

“It’s getting dark,” Jaina is the one who broke the silence again. Aebbe looked around the well-lit room, did her best not to tense up as she steeled herself.

“Is it?” Aebbe replied, and cleared her throat, “Do you think you can rest now?”

She’s feels the faintest of nods against her shoulder. “Mmmhmm…”

Aebbe covered up a sob by clearing her throat again, and she held the small miqo’te closer to her in that moment. “I love you, Jaina.”

There was no verbal response, and no physical response. Just Jaina’s ragged breathing and Aebbe’s forcefully controlled breathing. She didn’t want to upset her now. Not when she finally may have found peace, even if she knew what finding that peace meant. Jaina’s breathing continued to slow, continued to grow weaker.

Until finally, she sucked in one great breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh. Aebbe set her jaw and waited, hoped, prayed for another breath to come. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty.

Aebbe’s own breathing finally began again when it was clear Jaina was gone. The little woman was limp in her arms, and the hyur was numb. She knew what to do next, but she couldn’t bring herself to move for a few moments. Finally, she does. She gently slipped away from Jaina, laid the woman on her back. She looked down at those beautiful crimson eyes, with the light gone from them, and reached out to gently close them. Then, she prepared. She changed from her traveling clothes into a simple but pretty dress. She washed her hair and face, and then tied it up in a ponytail. She grabbed her sling bag and emptied it out, save for a full bottle of pills and a bottle of rum. Every motion was well-practiced, and she moved from one pre-programmed move to another.

Back into the bedroom she went, and she undressed Jaina. She traced the woman’s scars with her fingertips gently before she went about dressing her again, in a far more formal dress than what Aebbe wore. Pretty and white, with decorative frills and accents. A dress she never got to wear. It didn’t fit the way it should given that she had wasted away.

Aebbe took a few moments to gaze down at her, before she gently slipped her arms around her and lifted her up from the bed. She worked her way out of the bedroom and then out the front door, and she walked down to the beach with her. Tied to a makeshift dock was an equally makeshift boat - a seaworthy raft, really, that Aebbe had made herself. It would fit them both, and take them to where they were going.

She gingerly stepped onto the raft and laid Jaina down first, settled her on her back and folded her hands over her belly. She made sure she looked comfortable and peaceful. Only then did Aebbe untie the boat from the dock and push away with her oar. She waited until they were in the current of the sea before she settled down beside Jaina again, looked down at her with sad, deadened eyes all her own.

Everything was taken care of back home, but she ran through the checklist again. The children were with Hana and Khuja. All their gil was in an account for said children. The house had been paid off, signed over to them. She had long ago written a letter and left it on the table of the cabin, to be found when one of them came to check on them once a month, as they had done since Jaina and her had left.

With her checklist complete, Aebbe focused on the journey instead. Her eyes were set on a lighthouse in the distance. She cleared her throat, and did her best to sing a song she had hoped she wouldn’t have to sing for years.

“Love of mine, someday you will die,” she began, and now the emotions came bubbling back up. She fought them down, stroked Jaina’s hair gently, “But I’ll be close behind and I’ll follow you into the dark.”

“No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white,” she continued, with cracking voice. She laid down on her side, so she could continue stroking her hair with one hand, and take her hand with her other, “Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting... “ She choked up, cleared her throat, and closed her eyes. She waited for it to pass, gave it a few moments.

She opened her eyes again, and the lighthouse was closer now. Close enough that she felt it was time. She sat up and opened her bag, pulling out those pills and the bottle of rum. She set them down carefully on the raft and continued singing, “If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I’ll follow you into the dark…”

She opened the rum first, to make sure it was ready. Then, she opened the bottle of pills and poured them into her hand - she didn’t count, because it didn’t matter. She sucked in a breath and brought her hand to her mouth, tilting her head back as she threw the pills back. She chased them with rum - copious amounts of it, even.

She shuddered when she finally put the bottle down. She turned back to the lighthouse. Yes, they were close now. She knew the cocktail would work quick. She hadn’t eaten in days herself. She swallowed hard and tried not to focus on it. The time for regret was long past. She laid back down beside Jaina and wrapped an arm around her waist, staying close.

She was vaguely aware of the water crashing into the rocks that they were heading for. It was far away though, distant. She was quickly growing numb. The edges of her vision already fading. She smiled, as she rested beside her mate. She continued her song, as her words began to slow and slur, “The time for sleep is now, but it’s nothing to cry about.”

She sucked in a breath and paused as the raft struck one of the rocks, and the integrity of the whole boat was instantly compromised. She hoped she would be out before they were both completely below water.

“‘Cause we’ll hold each other… soon, in the blackest - blackest of rooms.” She murmured, as she closed her eyes and clung to Jaina. Her singing stopped, and consciousness started to fade. She clung to it out of some baser instinct.

“I told you,” she murmured to no one, “I told you, I would always walk the path beside you.”

As the water finally overtook the boat, Aebbe slipped away, and the sea reclaimed them both.

[smoulderingocean]

Nick & June Tag Game!

Thanks for the tag @potpourri-of-ecclecticism! Took me a while to sit down and get this all written out, but I enjoyed seeing what others wrote. :)

Here’s my (very, very) long post!

1.) What’s your favorite Nick & June scene?

There are just so many to pick from! I’m going to cheat a little and pick one from each season.

Season 1:

The moment in 1x10 when June tells Nick that she is pregnant and he reacts so perfectly by supporting her in the way that she needed. His reaction was simply pure love; love for June and love for their child that was just starting to grow inside her. 

While in 1x08 he had been worried about the risks that their relationship might bring them, especially June, that changed completely in 1x10. They were caught sharing that tender moment by Serena and Nick didn’t even flinch. He was determined to do right by June and their child and he tried everything he could to ensure that by being there for her no matter what. 

And likewise, in 1x08 he distances himself from June and closes himself off, whereas in this scene his reaction is pure vulnerability through his displaying of love. The way he stares at their hands together and presses his face into her arm was just so open and raw, especially for a person who had banked his survival on not forming attachments. In that moment though, he completely accepts his attachment and love for June because it is what’s best for the both of them and denying it just causes necessary pain and suffering in a place otherwise full of it. 

The pure love from that reaction is something that I completely adore. In Gilead love is forbidden and so any action of love is a form of resistance, and it’s the best kind of resistance. 

Another thing that I particularly love about this scene is that it’s really the only time that we saw Nick get to touch June’s belly. The whole pregnancy experience was stolen from them both, but this is a moment where they were able to grab onto something together and acknowledge that they made a new life together. It’s really very precious. 

Season 2:

My favourite has to be the Hawaii conversation in 2x12. The entire scene, from Nick smiling at June’s corny joke to June nervously sharing her desire to name their baby Holly to them both sharing in this fantasy of a normal family life together was just so much. It was so raw and vulnerable and emotional.

This is the first moment they’ve gotten alone together in a number of weeks and I love how Rita senses their desire to be alone together and so she makes an exit and gives them the opportunity to get that much needed time alone together. Things start out a little awkwardly because they’ve gone through this huge change -their baby is here now- without getting the chance to address it. But then they finally get that chance to address it and it is such a beautiful, tender moment.

From a character standpoint, I think this is a fantastic scene. June’s survival tactics have switched from attempting to distance herself from the future to engaging in hopeful thoughts about it. Meanwhile for Nick, he’s become so much more open and vulnerable with June. 

There are so many little details about this moment that I love. The lighting is bright and airy and very much gives off a hopeful vibe, signaling that it truly is possible that Nick and June will be a family together and that they’ll get their sunny day at the beach. Another detail from this scene that I love is how Nick’s voice inflects when he says the word “family”. You can tell how much he wants for that to happen and how scared he is that it won’t, and it’s just very sweet and vulnerable. The way that June and Nick moved towards each other as they built up this dream was very fluid and almost dance-like, and it really pointed out the ease they have together with how buoyant their movements are around each other. It was also kind of flirty in a way, hinting at the desire that’s always bubbling under the surface when they’re together. You could tell at multiple points that they wanted to kiss.

And this is also the first moment that they truly get to be parents together, with their baby now out in the world. Nick says the word “mom” out loud when talking to June. They agree on the name Holly together, with June obviously caring what Nick thinks and Nick immediately working the name into his mind. June’s joyful reaction after he agrees that the name sounds right is one of the most beautiful ones on the show. It was just a very sweet moment, even though you’re also very conscious of the fact that their child has been forcibly taken and kept from them. 

Together, they’d brought to life a hopeful fantasy of a beach day. That fantasy starts off as just that- a fantasy. But as it progresses, it becomes more real. As soon a June says “she’s gonna love the beach”, that idea goes from a fantasy to a promise they’ve spoken. They’re going to get out of that hellhole and they’re going to go the beach, any beach, and have a good day.

Another small part of this scene I like is how obvious it is that Nick would be completely overjoyed if Holly ended up just like June because he admires June so much and thinks so highly of her. He couldn’t imagine anything better than for their daughter to be just like her. It really speaks to the depth of not only his love for her, but his admiration and respect as well. 

Honourable Mentions:

When June chooses to go to Nick’s room in 1x05 and they share a passionate night together. Everything about this scene is amazing; the fact that the scene is clearly female gaze oriented, the focus on female pleasure, the emphasis on non-verbal communication with a partner in how Nick realizes and respects June’s need for control (I can’t emphasize enough how great this is from a consent standpoint and a female pleasure one), how Nick doesn’t touch June until she’s undressed them both and has guided him towards the bed, female pleasure as resistance, how nudity is used to express vulnerability, etc. It’s a fantastically done scene and I fully believe it’s one of the best, if not the best, sex scene on tv. 

The wall kisses in 1x06 and 2x07. The pleasure and the vulnerability of these scenes is really great. There’s something so emotional about these two kisses that express vulnerability in a way that’s different from the sex scenes. They’re just so raw and emotional and passionate. 2x07 is especially great as it’s a moment where June realizes that Nick is willing to die for her and that thought frightens her and so she allows herself to live in the love she has for him before getting to work on protecting him as best she can. 

Of course the moment where June, Nick, and Holly are all together alone in 2x13. The build up to this scene was intense and you could feel how deeply longed for it was. Then it finally happens and it’s just so beautiful. It’s a release of emotions for Nick and June both and they just live in the love they’re feeling in that moment because it’s safe for them to do so and because it’s something they’ve needed to do ever since Holly was born. This is also the first time that Nick is acknowledged as a daddy and that just struck me so intensely. He’s this first time dad who is frightened when he first holds his child and you can see how much this longed for moment means to him. The joy on their faces as Nick held Holly for the first time was just beautiful. They got to be a family in that moment and it’s so intensely emotional. Then June, who is really living in that love, expresses her love for Nick to him and it just blows him away. This moment was such a huge shift for them and the implications for the future will be huge. And again, Rita senses their need to be alone and grants them that privacy, and not only that, but she smiles while briefly watching it too. It’s a really great moment all around.  

  2.) Which scene between them did you find most heartbreaking?

With a show like this, there’s a fair share of heartbreaking moments too, so again, I’m going to cheat and do one for each season.

Season 1:

I think the forced ceremony in 1x05 is incredibly devastating. Here are these two people who have started to build trust together and find happiness in each other while navigating their feelings (I fully believe Nick was in love with June by this point and that June was beginning to develop feelings of her own) and physical attraction, and then suddenly Serena reminds them of who is truly in control and so she uses their bodies as tools to achieve her own end. 

Throughout the scene, it’s awkward and uncomfortable. This moment had been building up between them since the beginning, but instead of being beautiful and passionate, it’s horrifying and devastating. Serena twisted what should have been an intimate, pleasurable, and consensual moment into one of sexual assault. Neither Nick nor June could truly consent to this and you could tell it devastated them both. 

This is also the first moment where June gets a more intimate look at the person Nick is by seeing his things and the photo of him with his brother. These should have been things that Nick had the choice to share with June, but that was taken away from him too. 

And yeah, it’s a really sad moment and one that truly showcased how horrible Serena is, in that she’d treat these two humans as playthings just so she could steal their baby and get the social benefits of motherhood.

Season 2:

I think the entirety of 2x05 would be the most heartbreaking. There wasn’t one particular moment between them that was most heartbreaking, but rather a series of cascading events that were increasingly heartbreaking.

You start with June in the midst of a mental breakdown, going deep inside herself and surviving under the cloak of her “Offred” identity because for those weeks, being June was too painful and too hard. Meanwhile, Nick watches helplessly for weeks as June doesn’t acknowledge him or her own name. He watches her detach herself from their baby, under the obvious terror that she’s so close to having to give her up. It’s a time where she needs him more than ever because she can’t be strong in that moment (no one can be strong all the time), but he’s helpless to do anything substantial. He tries what he can, but nothing works. And so in his greatest hour of desperation, he turns to Serena, hoping against hope that she’ll do something to make June mentally ok again. But she doesn’t and instead, she feels threatened and ultimately results in Nick being married off to a teenage girl against his will in order to remind him that he has no control here. It was also done to provoke an emotional response in June, which it does, though not in the way Serena wanted. And so June chooses to go outside to die because everything in that moment is too unbearable for her.

When Nick goes outside and his intuition tells him something is wrong with June and he finds her dying in the rain, bleeding out as she lays on the ground, it’s his worst possible nightmare come true. As I discuss in this post, everything in this moment stops in Nick and shatters. The worst possible thing to him is losing June and their baby and now it could happen to him. He was completely devastated and not at all in control over his emotions in that moment like he normally is. The way he held June in his arms and screamed for help was the cries from someone who has been broken.

Just the build up of multiple heartbreaking events made 2x05 the most heartbreaking to me because all put together, it’s a terrible set of circumstances that June and Nick are in. 

Honourable Mentions: 

The “breakup” scene in 1x08. After an emotional night where Nick had to yet again helplessly watch as June suffered at the hands of Fred and seeing her emotional devastation as he drives them back to the house, he calls off the relationship. In his flashback, we see Nick say that it’s better to not form attachments. Obviously by that point something awful had happened to the people he cared about and so he wants to preempt that pain by trying to avoid becoming attached to June. Except that obviously fails because he’s in love with her and nothing will make those feelings go away. In addition, I think that Nick was worried that Fred could sense his attraction to June (just based on how Fred taunted him with how beautiful June looked), and so he thinks that keeping his distance would help keep June safer. It’s June’s utter devastation from this that really makes the scene heartbreaking. With Nick she’d created something good and now he was taking that away, giving her nothing but scraps of information when she deserved so much more. 

In 2x09 when Nick brings June the information he obtained while in Canada. I am so glad that Nick shared the things he learnt, because June absolutely deserved to know. But it was a devastating moment because you could feel the utter heartbreak in him. He brings June this information that initially caused her pain from fear and then joy at the news that the people she loves are safe. It hurts Nick to say those things because that’s not a life he was a part of, nor is it one that he feels like he could be a part of in the future. In this moment you could just see how the pain of not getting to be a family with June crushes him; the way he faces the window and rubs at his face and tilts his head back after telling June about Luke just said so much. And then before he goes, he reminds June that he loves her and in him saying that, he’s also telling her that he loves her too but that he doesn’t expect anything from her. He wants her to be happy and so he (rightfully) gives her the control over how to achieve that, even though it hurts him so much because she and their baby are seemingly his only family left and they might not get to be a family in the way he wants them to be. 

At the end in 2x13, when Nick sees June and Holly in the window before they make their escape and they share a silent goodbye. This is one of those “positive heartbreaking” moments in that what’s happening is objectively good even though it’s hard to watch in a sense. Nick very well in that moment could be saying goodbye to June and their daughter forever,  not long after holding Holly for the first time and June telling Nick that she loves him. June could be telling Nick goodbye forever with their daughter in her arms after sharing a beautiful moment with him and they might not ever see each other again. It was them separating, even though it was for a good cause, and so that was sad. In an ideal world they’d get to be a family together in Canada after surviving everything. But this is Gilead and that might not happen and so that moment might have been the last one they shared together. (Of course June has since chosen to remain in Gilead and I’m certain they’ll reunite, but Nick doesn’t know that yet.) And yeah, it’s a good kind heartbreak, but it was still heartbreaking in a sense. 

3.) Other than Nick or June, who is your favorite character on the show?

This is a hard one, but I’m going to have to go with Janine.

Janine, who has been through so much, is able to keep her faith and is able to find joy and beauty among the horror. She loves people so deeply and sweetly, while also still retaining part of her biting personality. Despite it all, she’s also retained a sort of innocence that is relieving to watch because they haven’t managed to take everything from her. 

Janine has such lovely friendships with the people around her. The dandelion in the colonies with Emily is one that stands out.  I love how her optimism keeps Emily from completely losing herself in such a horrid environment. The wedding she planned for Kit and Fiona was a moment of selfless kindness that is so rare in Gilead. Her excitement over June’s pregnancy and baby was just so sweet because you knew she was genuine about it. (This one is both sad and lovely in that you can see her losing herself, but you also know she’s right in her adamence that June is the baby’s mother.) 

I love how Janine and June both mother each other in different ways, as we tend to do for our friends. Janine’s innocence and volatility puts her at significant risk for harm. Meanwhile, June’s emotional compartmentalism puts her at risk for a different type of harm. They balance each other out in a way that attempts to mitigate those risks and they make each other stronger in a way. 

Janine is a good mother too. She knows that babies need love and contact and emotional connection. She shows in her contrast with Naomi that not everyone is fit to be a mother and how socially prescribed motherhood is harmful to everyone involved. She also shows that just because you are wealthy and seemingly mentally well does not mean you make a good parent, and that just because you are poor and mentally ill does not mean you’d be a bad parent. So often poor and mentally ill people are shown to be bad parents, but they buck the trend with Janine which I think is great.

Honourable Mention:

Rita. She’s a badass who obviously cares very deeply for June, Nick, and their baby. 

She’s whip smart, observational, and sarcastically funny. She’s also incredibly brave in how she risked everything to get June and the baby out. So few people are willing to take risks in Gilead (understandable considering what happens) and so anyone who does so is amazing. 

I find her fascinating. I want to know more about her and her life from before. I’d love to explore her friendships with June, Nick, and the other Marthas. I want her to get out to Canada with June and Nick and be a badass godmother to Holly. 

And yeah, I have a lot of feelings haha. Congrats to anyone who actually reads the whole thing haha, because this got super long!

[xkryskryptx]

What Lies Beneath - Pennywise X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Index: 1 / 2

Chapter 2

The enticing smell is what you remembered more than anything else. For some unknown reason, you were unable to move your limbs as you desperately craved to get closer to the source of the aroma; to bury your face in it and inhale deeply. Moment’s later, as if by magic, the scent was overpowering and you were able to allow your head to loll forward, resting it the soft, comforting source of the smell. You relished in the feeling of smooth silk on your cheek as you nuzzled your face into the cool material, faintly noticing the sensation of something moving beneath it, but not caring enough to dwell on it. You recognized the sound of heavy breathing, though you’re unable to determine if it’s coming from you or someone else. Your focus goes in and out as you suddenly feel a wet sensation trail up your neck. You groaned, not knowing if it was from discomfort or arousal. A haunting laughter causes a chilling sensation to course through your body. You started to tremble involuntarily, absentmindedly stretching out your hand in the darkness, reaching for something unknown to you. A soft, material-covered hand gently wrapped itself around your fingers. You were still too weak to pry your eyes open, so you concentrated on enjoying the sensuality of the touches as it moved from your hand to your body, exploring experimentally. The wetness returned to your neck as it slid down to your collarbone. You inhaled quickly as you felt a twinge of pain before it was soothed by the wet pressure once more. You really should have been concerned about what was happening to you, but you couldn't bring yourself to regain clarity quite yet. Truth be told, you were enjoying this, and you wanted it to last just a bit longer. You tilted your head to the side, allowing the damp muscle to glide easily across your throat as you released another guttural groan. The same low, dark laughter was heard again, echoing distantly. Your skin crawled when you felt pressure close to your ear as the same voice sang softly, “Down we go, down we go! Let’s sink together as Deadlights glow…” the voice trailed off as he started to hum the same repetitive tune instead. So entranced by the beautifully eerie melody, you hardly registered the mysterious hands making their way to your waistline, resting on the opening of your pants. You wanted more than anything to open your eyes and take in the sight of whoever was making you feel so good, but weakness consumed you. The hands hovered over your pants for a moment before the humming stopped and a low growl took its place. Disappointment ebbed through your mind as the hands removed themselves from your zipper, leaving you wanting more. Not even a second later, you were suddenly being lifted up roughly, no longer being explored by tender touches, but instead being thrown over the shoulder of someone who gave little thought to your comfort as you swayed back and forth with each long stride. After a few moments of being carried, you couldn’t help but drift off once more as your head swam with dizziness, allowing your subconscious to fall into a deep slumber.

You jolted awake, gasping for air as you looked around frightfully. Your heart slowed as you realized that you were in your own bed, the sun shining through your curtains brightly, indicating mid-morning. You fell back harshly onto the pillow, irritated that you awoke with such a startle. The alarm clock next to your bed indicated that it was already past 10 AM, which forced you to get out of bed due to the town meeting, which started in an hour. The town planned to formally address the disappearances in addition to coming up with new, innovative ways to locate those who had gone missing. You didn’t want to attend, seeing as how you had been to similar meetings before, which always ended the same way, but you had promised your Aunt that you would go for support. After all, that’s why you were there in the first place. As you made your way to the bathroom, undressing haphazardly, you stopped to look at yourself in the mirror. You paused at the sight of a dark purple and blue mark over your collarbone. You traced the pads of your fingertips gently over it to feel slight scabbing. It was then that you realized that it was a bite mark. But… how? What could have bitten you? This wasn’t a bite mark like anything you had ever seen. That was when flashes from the previous night came flooding through your mind like a crashing wave. You remembered everything. The Fun House, the bar, the assault, and most of all, the clown who had taunted you before coming to your rescue by brutally murdering your assailants. Frozen in place, you wracked your brain trying to determine what the hell you were supposed to do from here. Should you go to the police? Were you supposed to turn him in? He saved your life! Was committing him to a lifetime of prison the best way to repay him? Still, what he did wasn’t just murder… it was a slaughter; a massacre unlike anything you had ever seen. Even the memory of it made you queasy.

You ran to the toilet, leaning over it in preparation for what might occur if you thought about the gory details too much. Maybe you were crazy. Could it be possible that it was all a dream? Even among all the insanity that happened, you don’t remember being bitten. Could it have been the man with the knife? It couldn’t have been Pennywise. The thought of him being close enough to you to bite you was odd. Then again… how did you even make it home? The last thing you could recall was fainting at the sight of the decapitated bodies in the alley. There was no way that the clown could have brought you home. He didn’t know where you lived… did he? Why would he spare you? You were so defensive and cruel when he mentioned Sara. He clearly didn’t have any remorse for killing random strangers, so why were you even alive right now? Your heart started to race once more as you tried to comprehend everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. After a moment of trying to regain your composure, you realized that you didn't have time for a mental breakdown right now. You had to be there for your Aunt at the meeting, and whatever insanity that had consumed you last night would have to wait. You showered and dressed quickly, trying to guide your inner turmoil into a decision regarding last night’s events, all the while trying to concentrate on the reason that you were there in the first place. Your cousin should have been at the forefront of your mind, and the fact that you allowed yourself to get into this bizarre situation was not okay. Eventually, you agreed to attend the town meeting first to support your Aunt as well as keep up appearances before filing any sort of police report, should you eventually decide on that. Ugh, what would you even tell them? The thought of a mysterious, disappearing clown brutally decapitating three men in an alley before returning you safely to your bed made no sense whatsoever. How could you even prove any of that? You decided that it would be best to stop by the alley on your way to the meeting to see what the damage was. Someone must have seen it and reported it by now. Maybe they had already caught Pennywise and arrested him. Whatever happened to him, you had to be sure before jumping the gun. You hurried out of the house, anxious to see what kind of commotion the murders must have caused. Maybe the town meeting would even be canceled due to the slaughter. You would hate for Sara’s disappearance to be overshadowed by this, but considering how many people went missing from Derry in the past few months, most cases were swept under the rug anyway - not because no one cared, but because the law enforcement couldn’t seem to keep up with every missing person. Rounding the corner next to the convenient store, you were prepared to see the gory mess that you remembered from the night before. Bracing yourself before you reached the alley, you were surprised to find not even a single person there. No police cars, no firemen, no yellow tape, no onlookers. What were the odds that no one had seen this yet? No, it was impossible. The alley was covered in blood. You could remember the overwhelming smell of it, there was no way someone wouldn’t see that. When you arrived at the alley, you halted at the sight. There wasn’t a single trace of the struggle from last night. There were no bodies, no blood, nothing. But… how? It couldn’t be possible. You were losing your mind. That had to be it. There couldn’t be any other explanation. You knew what you saw. Could Pennywise have doubled back and cleaned the alley himself? No way, there was too much blood, and it was already really late to begin with, he wouldn’t have had enough time. You couldn't seem to come up with a valid explanation before you reached Town Hall where the meeting was being held, so you tried to disregard your apparent insanity until this was over. Once you entered the large room, you discovered that you were one of the last to arrive, so you made sure to humbly take a seat in the back of the hall. Your head pounded painfully as you tried to concentrate on what was being said amongst the concerned townsfolk. No one was offering any new strategies for finding their lost loved ones, and you couldn’t help but sigh with annoyance as you realized that this was all just a waste of time. You eyed your Aunt carefully who was sitting towards the front of the hall, her eyes red with tears and her face forlorn. You hated seeing her like that and it only made you even more determined to find your cousin and put her pain to an end. Scanning the room and all of the attendees, you halted at the sight of a man sitting across the way who was staring directly at you. Instinctively, you looked away quickly, your face flushing red in embarrassment. When you slowly raised your head once more to catch another glimpse of him. It unnerved you to see that he was still staring intently at you, a smirk playing on his full lips. Something about the way his bright, blue eyes captured yours was almost familiar and you were immediately drawn to them for reasons unknown to you. Unable to look away, your breath hitched briefly when he winked at you in a playfully seductive way. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, trying to hide your intrigue, to which you could see him chuckling in response. You then forced yourself to look away, trying your best to concentrate on what was being discussed. Besides, you had more important things to worry about than a pair of enticing blue eyes. The meeting ended about a half an hour later after everyone had agreed to organize separate search parties around town and the surrounding cities. Websites would be created to help spread the word about our missing family members in hopes of casting a wider net. Granted, those were good ideas, but it wasn’t anything had hadn’t been attempted before. Still, you had to try to stay positive. Sara would tell you to be strong and to look in the place you would least expect. Her journalistic ways seemed to enable her to see things differently than everyone else. You couldn't help but think that maybe could have contributed to her disappearance. Maybe she discovered something she wasn’t meant to? Then again, maybe she was just tired of her life here in Derry and decided to start over without the attachment of her old life. That wasn’t like her, though. She would never leave without at least cluing her family in to her whereabouts. Thoughts were whirling through your mind, distracting you as you walked out of the Town Hall among the large crowd of people until you ran straight into a blunt force. “Crap! Oh god, I’m so sorry-” you stopped when you realized who it was that you bumped into. The flirtatious man was staring down at you, his intense blue eyes suddenly a shade darker than you remembered them from inside the room. He was much taller than you expected and his pale skin seemed to glow in the sunlight in comparison to his dark brown hair that fell subtly over his eyes. His full lips curled on the ends into a sly smile as he bowed graciously. “Ah, but it was my mistake. My apologies, Y/N.” You gawked at him, embarrassed that he clearly knew who you were, but you didn’t seem to know him at all. “Do I know you?” “Oh, yes. We’ve met before,” he chuckled as his lips peeled back to reveal a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. His demeanor seemed all too familiar, but you still couldn’t quite place it. “How are you feeling this morning? I do hope that last night’s events didn’t frighten you away.” How could he possibly know about what happened last night? Was he there? Why would you be frightened of him? So many questions were bouncing around in your head, which he seemed to realize as his eyes read your confusion quite clearly. His gaze then lingered on the bruise below your neck. “I’m sorry about the bite, by the way. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so… appealing,” he licked his lips as the last word escaped him with a hungry moan. That’s when it clicked. But… wait, there was no way this could possibly be the same person… or thing… or whatever the hell he was. Your jaw dropped as you tried to speak - tried to utter any words at all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. He laughed darkly at your attempt to form words, already knowing what it was that you wanted to ask. He leaned closer to you, his face inches from yours as he whispered, “Are you ready to sink, Y/N?” His eyes then changed from the deep blue to the swirling yellow that was etched in your mind from the previous night. You choked out something between a sob and a scream as you took a few steps back, looking around in a panic to see if anyone was watching what was happening between the two of you. His gaze followed yours, lingering on the crowd of people surrounding you as he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he insisted gleefully, his eyes burning brightly. “They only see what I want them to see.” “W-what are you talking about?” you stuttered, still walking backwards to try and put as much distance between yourself and the creature of your nightmares, which did absolutely nothing because he was taking much larger, more confident strides towards you, slowly closing the gap between you. That’s when the thought occurred to you - the two of you were surrounded by people. He would expose himself if he chose to hurt you out in the open like this. Besides that, if he had wanted to hurt you, couldn’t he have done that last night after you passed out? You were so quick to dismiss him yesterday after he insisted that he had information about Sara, maybe he really did know something. You needed answers, and you couldn't seem to tiptoe around him anymore. You held your ground, no longer edging away from his menacing gaze. He arched his eyebrows questioningly, seemingly enjoying the alteration to his ongoing game.

Leaning closer to avoid anyone hearing your bizarre conversation, you spoke softly, “Look… it’s Pennywise, right?” He nodded, still grinning wickedly with intrigue. “Pennywise, when you mentioned my cousin Sara yesterday, were you telling the truth? Do you know where she is?” “I already told you, Y/N. She’s floating now.” You huffed impatiently, “What does that even mean? I’m not messing around, if you know where she is, please tell me!” “Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. “That’s not part of the game. You have to play to win,” he laughed boisterously, sending another chill down your spine. His maniacal laughter did not fit his new appearance very well, which only seemed to add to the creepiness. “This isn’t a game!” you shout, your eyes wide when you realized that you were bringing attention to yourself. You look around to apologize, but felt relieved once you discovered that no one seemed to have noticed. Pennywise continued to stare at you, a teasing gleam in his yellow eyes. You suddenly remembered the massacre from last night and couldn’t stop yourself from spewing questions about it.  “What happened to the bodies from last night? Did you seriously clean up that alley by yourself? Why did you even save me in the first place? How many people have you killed? Oh my god, did you kill Sara?!” “Now, now, don’t go spoiling our fun,” he insisted, his voice getting more high-pitched like it had been yesterday. “Let’s make a deal, yes?” You eyed him suspiciously, not willing to trust him for even a second, but demanding things from him was getting you nowhere. “What kind of deal?” you asked hesitantly, earning a satisfied hum from the wicked clown. “Spend the night with me.” You tried to hide your grimace as you replied, “What, you mean, like, in your bed?” He giggled menacingly, allowing his clown-like demeanor to come through more and more as the conversation continued. “So anxious, aren’t we? My, my, you are a delight. If tonight’s events lead to that, I certainly won’t protest, but no, that’s not exactly what I have in mind.” “Okay?” you questioned, not understanding what it was that he was insinuating. “Well then, whatdo you have in mind?” “That’s for you to find out,” he answered playfully, bopping the tip of your nose with his index finger, causing you to flinch. “Do you agree?” You shook your head, not liking his calculatedly vague answers. “I don’t get it. You want me to spend time with you? That’s what you’re asking? If I do that, you’ll tell me whether or not you killed my cousin? What kind of a deal is that?” “A generous one,” he offered promptly, the smile somewhat fading from his face as he stood up straight, making him look even taller, which unnerved you further. You knew that you didn’t have much of a choice. It was obvious that you were going insane and if this crazy bastard had any answers at all, it was the best chance you had of finding Sara. Sighing heavily, your eyes searching his once more, you nodded your head in agreement. “Fine. Deal.” He clapped his hands together giddily as he laughed with excitement. “Good girl,” he praised as he reached for your hand. His long, bony fingers lifted your hand to his puffy lips as he gently kissed the top of it, the sly grin never leaving his face. “Until tonight, Y/N.” You gawked at him as he delicately released your hand and turned into the crowd of people still surrounding Town Hall, lost in their own conversations as he disappeared among them, leaving you to wonder if you had just unknowingly signed your own death warrant.

Tags:

@littlepandadreamer

[kcwi]

[ dry ] ; reid & rory

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . | accepting.

during times like thess, the days blur together in one long, grey mess.

he only sees the sun when reid forces back the curtains for a couple of hours in the morning. it’s good for you, reid tells him. rory’s too tired to argue, so he rolls over and puts his back to the window instead. sleep is welcome and he’ll indulge for as long as he can –– it’s his one safe escape from that aching feeling in his chest, the one that carves him out and leaves him hollow. the things he’ll do to get away from it scare even him sometimes, and he can’t afford to be so reckless these days, so he buries himself under pillows and blankets and sheets and hides away until he doesn’t need reid for the sun to come in.

it’s a wicked trick his brain likes to play on him but it’s also his only solace. the great highs don’t come without nearly unbearable consequence, and he crashes just as quickly as he climbs. in these moments it’s hard to see anything else, the big picture escapes him entirely, and thinking in this state of mind risks a high chance of dangerous wandering. it’ll pass, he tries to tell himself. some days it works better than others. some days he can get up, move from bed, even leave the house if it’s not particularly bad. and some days, like this one, it’s a lost cause.

he knows as soon as he stirs, half-awake, that there’s nothing that’ll happen today to balance it.

still, when reid rouses him with gentle words and soft reassurances, he knows it’s a whole lot better than waking up to nothing. and even now, when he’ll do anything to stay where he is and even speaking seems like the world’s biggest feat, he takes once sleepy glance at reid and feels something else beyond despair wiggle its way right up to the surface.

he’s thankful.

if the words didn’t have a nasty habit of getting caught in his throat, he’d say it. and he wants to, wants to tell reid he’s not sure what he’d ever do if he didn’t have him, his own little silver lining personified right there in the thick of it, like nothing could ever scare him away even if rory tried.

he can’t quite muster the energy, so he reaches up to squeeze reid’s hand instead. good morning, it says.

“ good morning. how are you feeling, hm? ”  they both know the answer, but reid asks him each time regardless. rory knows what comes next, so his eyes are already fluttering back shut before reid’s hands even make it to his head. he hums in response, shuffles a degree or two to get his head on reid’s knee, and debates drifting back to sleep to the feeling of fingers running across his cheek and hair. he knows he can’t just yet, that if reid’s waking him up it’s not without reason, but that doesn’t keep him from enjoying the comfort of touch, even if it’s only a temporary cushion. “ i ran you a bath.”

in response, rory wrinkles his nose. “ ‘m tired. ”

“ i know. ” another thing he’s glad for –– reid always knows just the right amount to push him. so they sit there in quiet for another minute or two, quiet enough that rory has to forcefully blink to keep himself awake, before reid is prompting again, fingers curling to tuck a strand of hair behind rory’s ear. “ just a quick one, baby. promise you can go back to sleep after. ”

it’d be a waste of the minimal amount of energy he has to argue it any further; he knows he’s not going to end up saying no to reid, no matter what, so it’s with a sigh that he finally pulls himself up to sit. aching muscles draw him off the bed and towards the bathroom, where he’s immediately hit with warm steam drifting from the bathwater and fogging the mirrors. it’s when he’s undressing that he realizes it’s likely been days since he’s changed clothes, let alone taken a shower, and even if his limbs feel thick with lead, he knows reid is probably right.

a hiss slips through his teeth when his skin meets hot water. it’s too hot –– uncomfortably so –– and rory’s just about to give up when reid peeks his head in with unfaltering perfect timing. “ everything okay? ” rory likes to think reid is just being caring, and he knows he is, but part of him is well aware that it’s also a likely worry to leave rory alone whenever he’s like this.

“ it’s hot. ” rory mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in the water.

“ too hot? here.. ” rory knows he could’ve done it himself if he weren’t already aching to go back to bed, but reid shows no hesitation when he turns one of the knobs and dips a finger in the water to monitor the temperature. it’s only a couple seconds before the coolness trickles in and he adjusts, letting himself melt into the bath finally, the tension in his muscles dissolving. and maybe it’s because he spends so much time far away from reid in moments like these –– mentally and emotionally –– or maybe it’s because he’s having a particularly bad day, but it’s almost as though reid sees the thought travel across rory’s head as it does. “ you want me to stay? ”

rory nods slowly, reid smiles in response.

“ want to talk or do you want some quiet? ” reid’s already scanning their selection of soap and shampoo, smile still half there, lingering on his mouth in a way so sweet rory wants to kiss it. normally he’d be fine with silence but the bath already has him feeling slightly better and he missed reid despite the heavy slumber, and so he swallows hard before nodding again.

“ how was work? ” reid takes the cue perfectly, doesn’t ask rory any questions in return as he babbles on about his work day. patient stories. co-workers from hell. for a moment, rory’s genuinely distracted from the sadness while he listens, nodding where he should but quietly nontheless. reid massages soap into rory’s hair idly while he talks about new schedule changes, and even gets a smile in return when he scrubs behind rory’s ears. the ache in his chest is still there, still prominent, but reid’s presence has always been a fighting force, and rory will take any sort of relief no matter now temporary it is. “ feels good. ” he hums, dipping into reid’s touch, overwhelmed by a sense of calm at the familiarity of the closeness and the scent of his favourite soap. his eyes are near shut but he doesn’t need to have them open to see it –– he can practically feel the way reid’s mouth pulls into a smile, one that rory has well memorized by now.

it’s short, as promised, only a few minutes of scrubbing before reid’s disappearing, claiming to have forgotten a towel. rory wipes at the leftover soap in his ears, suddenly claustrophobic from the heat and reaches for the shower head to rinse himself and cool down. it only takes a few seconds before the feeling is washing over him again, sick and curling at the pit of his stomach, but then reid returns, fresh clothes and towel in tow, holding it wide open for him like a welcome embrace.

“ come here, baby. ” it’s soft, the way reid reaches out to dry him off, keep him from getting cold, and rory gravitates straight towards him. he’s used to the world through his own eyes –– loud, aggressive and rough around the edges, but reid’s brought a gentleness to his life that he knows he can’t live without now. it’s so fucking endearing, the way reid bites back a smile as he ruffles rory’s hair with the damp towel, and even now, when he’s happy to spend every hour of his day tucked away in the dark, rory can’t help but pause to give reid one short, tender kiss.

“ i love you. ” three words that are never hard to manage, and never hard to hear in return.

“ i love you too.”

[rcris123]

AND IF U LIKE all evens for Nagato

If they have any pets, what are they? If not, what would they have as a pet? - a horse (mare) named Niton; he trained her himself.

Do they have kids? Do they want to have kids? - he doesn’t have children but would love to be a father at some point.

Describe their eyes - Or I let Isamu do that: “those eyes, now thatlight fell onto them, they weren’t black, rather looked somewhat translucent asif pigment was lacking in them. They were alluring.” (CHAPTER 12: ONE BETRAYAL AT A TIME)

Any phobias? - Having sex/being intimate with someone else (particularly another man); he fears his partner will get murdered shortly after intimate contact.

How many people broke their hearts? - Events broke his heart more than people; instead he broke people’s hearts by keeping secrets.

Favorite fruit? - Raspberries from the tickets in the forest

Do they have any mental illnesses? If so, what are they and how do they make everyday life harder? - more of a symptom of mental illness than a mental illness in itself, but a martyr complex, characterized by self-harm and complete disregard for his body, which resulted in anorexia and several close-to-death situations.

Where did they grow up? - a village in the mountainous, forested area around Brashofu.

Do they like the ocean? If they do, what do they like about it? - his country has no opening to the ocean. He’s seen the sea however, as part of a war campaign. 

How would their love interest describe them? - left last because I will put down here every excerpt in which Isamu thought of Nagato.

“Miyamoto Nagato.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name. It’s Miyamoto Nagato.”

‘Thisain’t Miyamoto’ poppedin Isamu’s mind, and as if waking up from some form of trance he realized this man made him feel like dying with hismere presence, only to then lift it all with one embrace. Isamu stopped and hischest rose and fell rapidly once more: he understood now. Kaito called him aboy because Miyamoto was a man, and yet the Zasshu wasn’t that much older thanhimself. He couldn’t be – despite the deathly looking gauntness of the man hisgrip was strong, his walk was brisk, his voice not deep enough yet; he lookedold, ancient even, and young at the same time. And it all became too much totake in: from Isamu’s own inexperience that marked him as vulnerable, towhatever must have happened in the Zasshu’s past to have him look like he doestoday, to the very way he spoke and acted.  A hug?...

[...]

Isamu inhaled. Heseemed too kind; everything told himto be cautious of the trap, but Isamu reminded himself it did not matter; heshouldn’t be living regardless... What a strange thing, yet, for thisterrifying man to care about a stranger more than all those that claimed tocare before.

CHAPTER 4: DAYS OF UNBELONGING

Miyamoto was theZasshu; Isamu wouldn’t have dared ask – but then he somehow did; the man wasinjured. The first thing the Zasshu did was help Isamu, shouldn’t he at leastattempt to help back?

[...]

If only Miyamoto knew how he foundhis way here... And if Isamu was the man he thought he should be just a fewdays ago, killing the Zasshu right now would be so easy. Too easy. The man was frail and let himself vulnerable withouthesitation – and still this was the Zasshu, who, if nothing else, held off twomassive wolves, coming back with only one bleeding hand. Even now, he reeked ofdeath and grief and might just be its embodiment, but if Death embraces you tocalm your fury and nightmares, and promisestenderness for nothing in return how can Isamu harbor any ill-feelings.

[...]

The Zasshu pursed his lips. No morequestions – although now that he thought of it, he didn’t know why suchsensible questions have evaded the Muhōmono,and why his unwillingness to answer wasn’t put under scrutiny. Because he wasthe Zasshu and demanded respect? Because he was to be feared? Because he wasspecial? But the man was so easy to talk into a corner...Or was Isamu just fortunate – it wasno matter of skill.

[...]

Miyamoto gardenedrespect. 

CHAPTER 5: INTRODUCTIONS

“Why even answer my questions atall?” came Katou’s voice after a while.

“...Because... you answered mine andI promised to help where I can.”

“Why say that in the first place?”

“People are deserving of help- andwhat would become of the Muhōmono if we’re not willing to helpeach other.”

“You are terrifying.” Nagato feltair rush out of his lungs. “You can just squeeze your hand and I would befeeling that pain just as vividly; I understand my clansmen’s fear now. And Ithought that would be all – but the Zasshu turned out to be the kindest man. AndI think I understand why people flock around you.”

Nagato was breathing more heavily,but so was the other.

“What do you want me to say?...”

“I don’t know. I have already said much morethan I ever thought I would...”

[...]

“... Am I such a threat to the Muhōmono?” He talked as if Nagato was the lone soul he could confide in.“Not to me.” Spoke Nagato, sitting on the cobblestone, attempting to stop the bleeding, the pain was subsiding. “You’re to me like any other Muhōmono.”Katou seemed to stutter: “I set out from Yaromitsu to slay the Zasshu...” Nagato’s heart constricted. “And it would have been so easy. But I am a Muhōmono and I won’t trade that for anything anymore– is this what Rin would be feeling too?”Nagato sat, breathing heavier, the hum of the streets drowned by the beating of his own heart.“Why ask- why tell me such things?...”Isamu bowed his head: “I’ve already said too much before- And I still don’t fully understand how is it that you put faith in all so easily. In-” he shut that word out, head bowing lower. “Gods- I just wanted to tell you Rin shares the name of a branch Fujiwara family.”“What should that mean?” His breathing wasn’t even yet.“That he thought like I did, that it shouldn’t be scandalous to sacrifice oneself on the political stage, that there’s-”“He’s young. We’re simple men...”“I could have killed you; so can he, so can any.”“And why would such a thing matter?... If I die-”“These men will lack a purpose.” Isamu wouldn’t let him finish, stern. “They love you.”“You just agreed with Rin...”“I thought I understood my own thoughts...” Katou huffed, “Then maybe I’m in the wrong-”Nagato pulled himself up, Katou quickly extended a hand, to help.“Would you trust my judgment if I asked you to?” said Nagato once up.“If you would please take mine into consideration.”

CHAPTER 6: THE SNAKE AND THE DOG

Fiasco followed in his footsteps, aharbinger of doom; the men saw, they wanted him not among the Muhōmono.Not the Zasshu. The living embodiment of chaos viewed from up-close, stoodstill as the eye of the storm. And Miyamoto Nagato felt gentle, felt suddenlyalmost like home. Isamu felt like he belonged among these men more than he everfelt he fit anywhere else. Maybe chaos drew to chaos.

And he didn’t mind that they ditchedhis surname to call him just Isamu.

[...]

Miyamoto tried to offer him some support: “There’s still half a day till Brashofu and we still need a place to stay there. Inside the town.”“We’ll have to ride ahead.” Ai said.“I’m coming with.” Akio added.“Then tell Kasumi; I’ll get Isamu on my horse.”“And I’ll tie Mori to mine.” Akio continued as he stepped away.As gently as he was picked up the first time, Miyamoto carried him to his grey mare. Isamu lifted his left leg over her neck and shoulders, his arms propped for support. Miyamoto got on afterwards. A cold hand tapped Isamu’s forehead; checking the temperature. A sigh and some shuffling; Isamu was offered a blanket.“Thank you.” He muttered with cracked lips, draping the blanket over himself and tugging it towards the chest, for warmth.“Sweating helps.” Nagato said; Isamu nodded.Nagato’s left hand wrapped around his chest from under his arms.“It hurts.” Isamu wheezed, and Nagato soon undid his grip and proceeded to wrap his other arm around him. But in his fevered haze Isamu didn’t realize the man needed a good hand to ride: “Can you use your left?” His voice sounded so weak.“I can handle.” He smiled, and somehow that brought Isamu comfort he never knew he needed.Maybe a smile was all that he longed for, or maybe it was just the crown Nagato’s tenderness wore.He didn’t understand still, but Isamu gave up looking for answers, and indulged himself in his kindness.

[...]

Miyamoto was kneeling beside him: “How should we go about this, then?” His voice was sweet and gentle, calm and understanding, not threatening in the least.Isamu didn’t fear him.“You.” He said. “I trust you...” Isamu took in a sharp deep breath, trying not to burst into tears from fear of the memories and the added pain. “But I don’t trust myself...” he cried.Nagato held him. Isamu grabbed onto his arm, wiping his sudden burst of tears onto his clothing.“... If you need an ear to listen, I’ll lend mine.”Isamu smiled between tears. He wanted to believe it wasn’t all aimless and this tenderness led somewhere.It suddenly became clear to him: home was what he longed for. For Shin and all that he stood for, the gentle touches, the sweet words, the warm embraces: they were home. And he somehow stumbled there, within the Muhōmono, they weren’t all distrusting and the Zasshu, the Miyamoto that wrapped his arms around him to calm his furry, the Miyamoto that was angry at how they taught him and talked about himself when he shouldn’t have, always kind.And Isamu wished he had the courage to tell him all of that, but there were still so many questions, and still so much pain that any other feeling has been banished entirely.

[...]

Isamu had to steady himself as Nagato undressed as well. Curiosity had him turn. While Isamu knew Nagato wasn’t as fit, the sight still managed to shock him. Maybe it was the contrast between his broad shoulders and chest and the sight of his bones sticking out, rising and falling with his breathing. Or maybe it was the colossal amount of scars he had littered over his body, ranging from small ones, the size of a coin, to long ones, from swords, and wide ones, from bullets. His skin was so pale. Nagato took off his hakama and pants, undid his hair. Isamu couldn’t say he noticed just how long that red hair was. His legs were scarred as well.Nagato undid the bandage on his hand; it was dirty with dry blood – from when he held him down: “I’ve hurt so many people...”Isamu’s heart contracted in his chest, and if those were feelings, combined with his fever they made him unable to breathe. It almost felt as if they traded secrets.“Not me...” Isamu wheezed, trying to stand upright.

[...]

Nagato held him, firmly but not roughly. His muscles were thin, but hard against the skin of his chest. Isamu became aware of his fever, the drumming in his chest.And then Nagato decided to brush away damp stray hairs from Isamu’s forehead with all the care of a designated lover; Isamu held his breath. He should be washing his privates while he still had the strength to stand, and he might have...

[...]

Oddly enough, Nagato’s handsalthough rougher to the touch on his sore skin, worked gentler than Ai’s. Hedidn’t pull the edges of his wound as if he was working sheep skin like Ai did,even if Nagato lacked her dexterity and moved at a much slower pace. However,Isamu couldn’t say it was displeasing; it gave him time to prepare for the nextsting of the needle unlike the relentless misery from earlier. At first it wassomewhat bearable and clenching his teeth was enough to deal with the pain, butit didn’t last. And Isamu started to whimper, clenching the sheets.

[...]

How did he even deserve such kindness and faith? He thought all of him was built to withstand stones and insults, but one bullet and a gentle touch and the Fujiwara prodigy crumbled to tears. But maybe he was nothing more than a human. And the moment he saw Nagato leave he lunged for his hand.Stay...And Nagato stood still.He couldn’t tell if it was his own feverish hallucination, but in his ears there were two heartbeats.Nagato bent down, a mellow but sorrowful look on his face: “I must talk with Akio-san and Ai. And you need to rest...” Isamu clung to his hand, and it seemed Nagato wouldn’t have wanted to let go. He had so much to say...“Thank you.” Isamu whispered.“I’ll return. Please rest. I-We-... The Muhōmono need you...”

CHAPTER 8: BLOOD AND WATER

He couldn’t sleep; the pain kept himawake, just as much as everything that happened next to that forest. Theirtalk. Nagato.

Nagato...

He rolled over chest tight becausehe shouldn’t allow himself to think that name so many times. She didn’t care ifthey were sods, even if he heard it wasn’t as well looked on by the massesbecause it reminded them of the ruling upper classes and their debauchery. Itwas almost expected of the Samurai clans to take male lovers.

But that’s not what he truly feared.Instead it was this sprout of a deep affection that grew between his ribs, andthe fear of having it ripped away by rejection, prejudice or, worst of all,death – that the Zasshu seemed too keen on finding...

[...]

And Isamu’s chest tightened at thethought – thoughts; there were so many, all with his name because this paradoxof a man seemed always at his side while always feeling like he slipped away.And he always came back.

[...]

Nagato tried to stand morevertically, only to stop midway, placing his thin hands on his abdomen. Isamu’slips parted, he turned to assist.

“I’ll be fine...” And Nagato offeredhis hand again, his mutilated left hand.

Isamu gripped it, gently – he knewnow how it must have felt in that bathroom with Isamu in such terrible pain;this hand already prickled his skin upon touch. It was almost healed, barelysore, and yet...

And that same reckless part ofhimself that always pushed him to speakwhen he shouldn’t has made Isamu press his face into his palm.

Nagato inhaled stiffly, and heldthat breath in.

Maybe he only spoke so carelessly toNagato – for he felt no fear, none at all. Quite the opposite now, with hisface brushing against what remained of the scabs and blisters on the man’sscarred hand.

Maybe that part of him, was the samethat now made his heart drum, his breathing fast, rolling against Nagato’sskin. Maybe that part of him was just the one that’s he’s forgotten, burieddeep in the muddy waters of the Arujeshu river.

Maybe that part of Isamu is whatpoetry called love, and he pressed a kiss into Nagato’s palm...

The kettle whistled.

Nagato didn’t withdraw, instead helooked at Isamu through his fingers with an expression he’s not seen before.His tired eyes were pleading, sorrowful and Isamu recognized in them thereflection of his own insecurities: life was fickle, they were barely alive.And his lips were slightly parted beneath the auburn beard, exhaling leisurely,entertaining the idea, of what they shouldn’t allow themselves because therewas no strength left to feel heartbroken.

“Isamu...” and that name neversounded so sweet; Nagato moved his hand, his thumb passing over his lips,gently tugging the lower one.

Isamu pressed his lips together, akiss on the thumb and Nagato slowly closed his eyes, chest rising slowly.

CHAPTER 11: EYES FOR FEELINGS

He didn’t notice he was so close;one more excited thump against his ribs, because it was the first time hecaught himself admiring the other’s features. Nagato was not handsome: his facewas so gaunt, angular with cheekbones jutting out, scraggly covered by a thickauburn beard that hasn’t been trimmed in a long while – hair as well, long,messy, white at thin ends. And now, he’s seen the lips hidden behind the beard:plump, those eyes, now that light fell onto them, they weren’t black, ratherlooked somewhat translucent as if pigment was lacking in them. They werealluring. Isamu held in a breath.

CHAPTER 12: ONE BETRAYAL AT A TIME

[stefanyrodriguezblog-blog]

The Interior Voices of America in If Beale Street Could Talk

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

Barry Jenkins follows the success of MOONLIGHT with a dynamic, intimate story based on the novel IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK by James Baldwin.

It is incredibly regrettable to say that the progress we have made is still not enough to claim we are better off with our current justice system. Last year, the case of Cyntoia Brown rose to the public eye when she was granted clemency after serving 15 years in prison for killing a man who bought her for sex when she was only 16 years old. Brown saw little justice in her case; at the same time, unharmed people from poor minority communities have repeatedly been more likely to be stopped or gun-down by police officers. Philando Castile was shot down inside his car after being stopped by a police officer and informed him that he had a permit for his gun. Botham Jean was shot down by his downstairs police neighbor while in his own home because she thought she saw him breaking into her apartment. Stephon Clarke was shot in his grandma's backyard because the cops believed he was reaching out for a gun which turned out to be a cellphone. These crimes appear to be a never-ending disease. Their names along with the names of every victim who have suffered from systemic racism enforced by the people who are supposed to protect them should resonate in the voices of every citizen of this country. Instead, what we get are the typical "what happened before" questions, short mainstream media attention, and little discourse provided by our legislators.

In part, IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK is a masterfully crafted film which allows audiences to reflect on the consequences of our country's racist epidemic through characters' emotions.

We begin the film with an aerial tracking shot of Alonzo "Fonny" Hunt (Stephan James) and Clementine "Tish" Rivers (KiKi Layne) walking down the stairs next to a river. The camera, located at a physically higher position than them, is brought down to a medium shot of the couple holding each other, followed by a medium shot of the characters starting at the camera. Almost never again in the film do we get an aerial shot like the opening one, but we do get ceaseless amounts of medium shots of the characters at eye level; suggesting we might have walked into the film with a similar preconception of the characters but to understand their story, we have to see them at their same level.

Revealing the news about Tish and Fonny's baby also reveals a candid understanding of the characters, particularly the two grandmothers. Tish's mother Sharon (movingly portrayed by Regina King) is caring and firm about the way she questions Tish in the kitchen. When it comes time to reveal the news, a medium shot of a nervous looking Tish staring up at us cuts to her family in their living room. Now Sharon is informed, and they are both telling the rest of the family together. This leap is indicative of the love Sharon has for her daughter. By establishing the two characters' relationship, looking through Sharon's eyes, and suddenly cutting before Tish even says anything, we understand that Sharon doesn't need to hear a reason to feel empathetic for her daughter. The abrupt absence of a moment depicts an image of motherly affection.

Fonny's parents Mr. and Mrs. Hunt (Michael Beach and Aunjanue Ellis) give polar opposite reactions to Tish's announcement. While Mr. Hunt celebrates, Mrs. Hunt disapproves of the conception and condemns the two for having sexual relations in the first place; Fonny's sisters also reinforce a derogatory language towards Tish. The self-imposed judgment that they adopt has little to do with religious belief as Mrs. Hunt expresses and more with societal oppression against African Americans. One only needs to observe both their attitude and costuming to understand. Their dresses are reminiscent of the traditional 1960s wife fashion and their hair is combed down as to imitate that same style. This look is in sharp contrast to Tish and her sister's high-waisted pants and afro hair, which was typical of the 1970s black woman. The willingness of Mrs. Hunt and her daughters to turn back on their culture and attack those who suffer in the same struggle suggests that they have fallen victim to a system which wishes to suppress and divide black Americans. While it successfully manages to segregate these two families, Ellis' performance as she leaves the house illustrates the character's inner confliction. Mrs. Hunt goes from forcibly mouthing the words "that child" as if to proceed it with something offensive but instead, whimpers the same words out of the house. This moment is symbolical of her struggle to wish for tenderness in a society that perpetuates violence and hatred.

Immediately following the harsh interaction between the two families, we jump back to the time when Tish and Fonny went on their first date. The film's narrative is nonlinear, so it goes back and forward from before and after Fonny was sent to prison. The film leaps from periods of grief/anguish to ones of affinity/joy and vice versa. Very often we go through periods of emotional instability in our daily lives; similarly, the juxtaposition of these sequences suggests the relentless unpredictability of life itself. What's more, a lot of the sequences before Fonny is sent back to prison have a lush dream-like quality to them. We can assume this is because we are experiencing the story from Tish's consciousness and she looks back at these memories with a gentle introspection. But previous collaborator of Jenkins also reinforces this sentiment with a sweeping score that parallels the film's tone. The encompassing sounds of the harp, trumpet, and violin compose a melodious harmony deserving of its own examination.

In Fonny's apartment, their first sexual interaction is touching but shot with realistic attributes. When Fonny and Tish are kissing in his bed, the camera captures them passionately touching each other in a medium shot. The shot stays with them as they undress and the music gets progressively lower. The sequence seems to become increasingly more uncomfortable to witness when the music goes away, and there is no dialogue. Simultaneously, it places the focus on the character's body movements; this is revealing of their emotions. Tish is looking down and up at Fonny until her back in facing the camera. Fonny cannot stop staring at her with a concerned look on his face as he covers her with his sheets. When the shot cuts, it is to see Fonny play music and back again to a close-up of Tish with little space in her frame compared to him. The space in which the characters find themselves is symbolic of their own confidence. Fonny in a full shot visualizes his poised attitude while Tish's close-up visualizes her timidness. This sequence depicts the character's inner feelings at a meaningful part of any relationship.

The latter sequence is one in which its purpose is to explore the humanity of the characters, but one of the film's major themes is the subject of systematic oppression. How does a black body navigate through a sea of racist discrimination? The two scenes which best highlights this subject (and are arguably the best entirely) see Fonny and Dany (Brian Tyree Henry) having a conversation and Fonny inside prison. Both revolve around this concept and ponder on what it mentally does to its victims. In a powerful performance by Henry, we witness a man explain the reason why he got sent to prison and what it did to him. The camera pans from side to side in the conversation, creating an energetic fluidity between the two men. Every time it turns from Fonny to Dany, the tone gets severely more cynical and eerie. Henry's performance assures us that this man has been broken down; a close-up sees him utterly disturbed and unsettled, a full shot briefly captures him tearing up, he is without any consolation that "the white man" would show him justice. This scene depicts a man reflecting on a hurtful past and foreshadowing another's near future.

The next sequence does not include dialogue, and it almost relies on visuals alone to express the mentality of a man in prison. A traveling full shot of Fonny is circling him as he works on a sculpture which then cuts to a close-up of his face laying in his cell bed; this suggests that now we are looking back at one of his memories. Fonny is free to move around this space unrestrictively and the flowy movement of the camera captures this going in circles. The spatial freedom established by this shot illustrates Fonny's retrospective outlook of this memory. Next, a static shot captures his face motionless and with minimal space in the frame; another close-up shows him motionless again and with a single tear running down his face. The subtext implies that we are seeing a man when he felt his freest juxtaposed to when he felt most entrapped.

Another thing that is important to point out is the presence of smoke in the mise-en-scene of both sequences. This smoke is cloudy, all-encompassing, like a blanket hovering over the characters. One reading could see the smoke to be symbolic of the system itself, as it is restrictive and you can't seize it. Another reading could see it as a catalyst for these men to reveal their emotions, Dany expressing pain and Fonny expressing bliss. This decision is completely subjective, but the presence of smoke in these two sequences is more than mere coincidence. Nevertheless, these moments effectively dwell on systematic oppression as one of the film's main themes by portraying the emotional consequences it had on two different men.

In an interview with Slash Film, director Barry Jenkins noted on the challenges of adapting James Baldwin's novel: "so much of the power of his writing is how he goes into the interior lives of the characters. So you understand how the story is making these characters feel and what those feelings are saying about life in America, about American society. So the challenge was, how do you make a film, which is not interior text, which is all surface in a certain way – you’re outside them, you’re not inside of their heads – but how do you still translate this interior voice? "

At its best moments, IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK is a cinematic landscape of faces which communicate the interior voices of its characters. These voices represent a familiar story to its audience, one which stimulates those who have experienced prejudice based on race and influences those who have not. With the election of a bigoted president who continues to perpetuate racist propaganda, American society evidently still has many issues to address and resolve; beginning with the acknowledgment of how slavery and discrimination have evolved through our system of justice. As observers of this film, we will make a decision one way or another on how to react to the way the system treated these characters. But regardless of this, after watching IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK, we can pave the way towards being more empathetic as well as seeing another person's struggle as our own.