#he/she never even did it once in his/her dreams

[multiversediaries]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

[writing-flower]

“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Chapter II: “Dancing with fabric (and glances).”

WARNING: Panic attack

Masterlist

I was on a stage, too big to be a normal one or at least that was my perspective. I was wearing my suit, with the fans in my hands as the fabric touched the floor.

There was no one by my side, I was alone.

There was no one in the seats in the audience either, not a single person to watch me dance at that moment.

I let out a sigh. I started dancing.

The music in my head started playing but now it also started to be heard on the stage. slowly. Little by little. The music continued to grow.

I moved with the fabric of the fans that slowly became longer and longer.

I reached a point where I could no longer appreciate what was in front of me, I could no longer feel the cold floor of the theater.

But the lights. They were getting brighter as the music came to an end.

They wrapped me up in such a soft way, it was so suffocating.

I always wanted to be in the spotlight, to be the leader, to be the one leading the dance.

Why does it feel so different now?

I fell to my knees at the same time that the music slowly stopped along with that voice that made me remember that everything was a dream.

I hadn't realized how big the fan fabric was now, so long that it reached to the ends of the stage, The skirt also grew now it was so long and big that I couldn't stand up because of the weight of the fabric on my waist.

It shouldn't have been heavy, but it was.

It's too big for me.

When the fan fabric stopped, I fixed my gaze on the audience.

The only lights were above me, they moved where I was going but never where I wanted.

I couldn't shine light on them. I wanted to shine light on them to see their faces.

What expressions will they have? Are they waiting for me to keep dancing? Even though I can't get up, they want me to continue with the show?

Just talk, say it.

I will, just please...

Stop

Looking

at me.

[Name] immediately gets up from her bed feeling her heart beating quickly and painfully, her feet were numb as were her arms.

While she was sitting in her bed, she tried to relax. Is this what people call "lucid dreaming"?

When she finally felt her legs and arms move just a little to get used to it, it felt like a million ants were walking on her limbs.

She sighed and then tried to get up, she managed it but a little wobbly.

She grabbed a towel along with a set of clothes to go to the bathroom.

She loved her new room, I think it would be more accurate to call it her fiveteenth room.

Compared to the previous one, which was already starting to be quite small for her and too childish, in an attempt to free up her room a bit as she ran out of space.

She found a not so small door in the ceiling, she could barely open it and saw the enormous space that had moved to that hidden part of the mansion.

But obviously being a attic, it didn't have a bathroom, that was the only thing [Name] regretted.

Once she could feel her arms and feet much better she opened the attic door and carefully went down the stairs.

"What are you doing up there, little one?"

[Name] almost fell down the stairs from the fright, she immediately looked back even though she was on the stairs to...

"First with the child...and now with the hypocrite." [Name] thought, trying not to frown, well, not so much.

"Dick, you scared me!" She did her best to fake that squeaky voice she remembers.

And thank goodness it worked. Except for one small detail.

Dick frowned.

"Dick?"

"Did something happen? Or why that face?" She finally came down from the stairs and with a little force, she pushed the stairs up and in turn closed the attic door with a small 'click'.

"What face?"

"Well, you know, that confused face..." She smiled slightly, but inside her head she was analyzing him, exactly his expression.

Dick genuinely had a face of confusion hidden, he was smiling and using his body to express otherwise.

But his eyes narrowed for a few moments before she asked about his expression.

"Oh! Don't worry little one, It's just that I've never seen that attic, and with good reason."

Dick walked past [Name] and checked the entrance to the attic better, either tensely or intentionally the entrance was very well camouflaged.

[Name] nodded. "I thought you'd be in Bludhaven by now."

"I decided to stay a few days, mostly to rest." [Name] nodded again, keeping that small smile. "And you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

Dick laughed at her confusion.

"What were you doing up there?"

[Name] opened her mouth slightly and then closed it instantly, What the hell could she say?

"Umm, well, I was looking for some things for my dance classes!"

"Your dance classes?"

"Yep! When I found that place I started using it as a place to store some clothes or supplies that they sometimes ask us for in class." This time the tone was a little shriller, it was a mix between the voice she was faking and the nervousness of being caught.

Dick only looked at her for a few moments before instantly lowering the attic door without breaking his gaze.

"First, it's bad to lie to your brother and second, you're a very bad liar, little one." Dick smiled before carefully climbing the stairs, frowning at the unsteady ladder.

[Name] just sighed in frustration. "Let's see, how the fuck did Dick fucking Grayson know I'd be here?" She didn't say anything, nothing came out of her mouth.

Dick on the other hand was greatly surprised by what was inside, two mattresses one on top of the other, a nightstand, two not so large trunks accompanied by drawers to store clothes.

There were some hand-painted colorful bottles hanging in the higher parts of the attic, surely her creations.

The only lights illuminating the place were the skylight, a row of light bulbs, and the lamp on the nightstand.

It was a room.

Why would his sister sleep here?

Why didn't he know this?

Why...she didn't tell him about this?

"[Name]" He called her but there was no answer.

He turned around and with a leap landed in the hallway of the mansion, leaving the attic.

Only to realize she was gone.

"Shit..." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. "Was this always her room?.."

Of course not.

And that was what was causing him an uncomfortable stomach ache.

He glanced at the attic that was still open, his curiosity got the better of him again, he went back in.

But this time he looked more closely at the "room."

The lights were off leaving only the skylight as a light source, it felt quite comfortable actually.

The orange and yellow light of dawn began to stream even further through the skylight, starting to flood some parts of the room with its light.

But the moment the light reached a certain angle of the room, everything lit up with colors, distracting Dick a little.

The lights from the bottles illuminated the rest of the room, which was still dark.

Now the whole room was illuminated without even a single artificial light switch on. Dick stood admiring for several long minutes the little light show his sister had created.

That admiration turned into something else when he noticed that on top of one of the trunks was a medium-sized box.

He walked over slowly, grabbed the box and sat down on the makeshift bed.

A long skirt and a very long fabric was the first thing she saw, but what caught her attention was the only colored fabric that was in that box.

Two fans with gradients of warm colors, yellow, orange and red. Red was what remained the most on both fans.

"This is what Alfred gave you...I don't think it's suitable for a girl of your age-"

Wait.

"How old are you?."

[Name] arrived at the bathroom tired from running, well, now she has to get away from Dick, how ironic.

"Oh. My. GOD." She immediately leaned against the bathroom wall and slowly lowered herself until she ended up sitting.

She brought her hands to her hair, ruffling it quite a bit.

"Will this affect anything? I mean, technically do I travel back in time, or am I reincarnated? IT DOESN'T MATTER." She jumped back up and began pacing back and forth.

"Actions have consequences, allowing Dick into my room will surely change something..." [Name] stopped instantly.

"In fact... he, no, no one, found that place, at no time during my childhood until I left...What did I do?-"

Her breathing gradually began to become more agitated than before.

She felt her palms getting sweatier than before, she felt like she had been punched in the stomach and all the air she had been knocked out of her but she couldn't get it back no matter how hard she tried.

Gradually her legs as well as her hands began to shake, she didn't feel it because she was so lost in her head until she fell to the floor.

Her legs gave out as she trembled and she brought her hands to her chest. She felt dizzy.

Ten minutes passed, she still felt the trembling in her hands but her legs stopped shaking, she was still kneeling on the floor.

The dizziness disappeared but the result was a sharp headache.

"Shit...and I have to go to school." She muttered as she tried to stand up with the help of the sink. "Please, just for today, no more surprises."

"Whoever is behind this, leave me the surprises when I find a way to get back and leave here..."

If there is any way. Safe.

NOTES: Heyyyyy guess who's back? Well I genuinely hope you all like it.

You know, if you want to ask questions, ask them, and if you want to be on the taglist, let me know in the comments.

In the end! I love you muak muak muak💋

TAGLIST:

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[birdofwildness]

☾An intoxicating conversation

Warnings::Dark!Tom Riddle, possessiveness,1950's,lack of feminism,religious symbolism,alcohol

☾Tom Riddle

Summary::you're drunk,sad. You call Tom.

The pianist lazily tapped the keys, someone laughed at the bar, and cigarette smoke swirled like a faint veil beneath the ceiling fan.

I rested my fingers on the rim of a cocktail glass and watched the man sitting across me. He wasn’t particularly interesting—perhaps a little too aware of his own good looks—but still, there was something about him that made me toy with the idea of walking over.

Then i remembered that sentence. "A lady does not initiate conversation with a man."

Of course. A lady does not initiate. A lady observes, waits, hopes that someone notices her, speaks to her, chooses her. A lady stands in the background, beautifully illuminated, as if she were nothing more than a painting on the wall, a carefully arranged composition. She simply exists, artfully positioned, in the right lighting, like a Monet painting. A scene painted with broad strokes that looks perfect from afar—but step closer, and you’ll see the blurred colors, the chaotic disorder behind the illusion of harmony.

My lips trembled slightly—it wasn’t a smile, more of a fleeting reaction hovering at the edge of a thought. How simple was the world imagined by those who had created this rule. A world where a woman was merely the waiting counterpart to the acting man—a prop, a backdrop, a decorative piece.

A faint lipstick stain remained on the glass rim, a trace of my presence, my touch—yet how easily it could disappear with a single swipe.

The man turned away. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the pulse of the music run through my skin.

Maybe tonight, I didn’t want to be a painting. Maybe tonight, I would be the one to pick up the brush.

It wasn’t this man that interested me. It was never men like him. There had always been someone else.

Someone beside whom I never had to wait for the right moment. Who never forced me into silence, into polite smiles, into letting myself be chosen. A boy who let me ask, initiate, exist in whatever way I wanted.

Tom Riddle.

The name lingered inside of me like an old melody, forgotten until a single note was enough to bring it back. We hadn’t seen each other in years—perhaps not since we could even call themselves friends anymore. But for a long time, we had been. The best of friends.

But friendship doesn’t protect you from everything. Not from the words spoken. Not from the ones left unsaid.

I straightened my posture, shaking off the memories with the movement. A shadow in the smoke, a feeling from the past that no longer needed to be taken seriously—that was all Tom Riddle was to me now.

My gaze caught on the bar counter, my eyes lingering for a moment on the fingerprints left on the glass rim. The music softened, the smoke thickened, and everything seemed distant… yet there it was, a memory stirring in my mind, pulling me back.

The plans we had dreamed up together, sitting on the benches of Hogwarts. The man I had once called my friend, the one who lived not by rules but by the pursuit of freedom and knowledge, was now…

I have heard from an acquaintance that Riddle, instead of bringing prestige to Hogwarts, had ended up working at Borgin & Burkes. A small, tucked-away shop of dark magic, where the most dangerous spells and forbidden artifacts lay hidden. He was now employed at the very store everyone tried to avoid.

So much for the ambitions of youth.

I raised the glass to my lips again, but this time, I no longer felt the familiar cool refreshment.

My friends were sinking into deeper conversation. As the hours passed, the soft melodies of the piano nearly vanished beneath the noise of the nightclub. The women spoke more and more of husbands, marriages, and their disappointments.

"Why did I ever think that marriage would make everything right?" began Augusta Longbottom, who had always considered herself an idealist, but now sadness reflected in her eyes. "My husband works all day, and when he finally comes home, it's as if I don't even exist. Nothing has changed since the initial magic, but..."

"Exactly! Every little thing we once loved about each other fades over time," said Cedrella Weasley, glancing at the group with a smile that seemed warm but tired. "My husband always used to say he needed nothing but me, but now… now there’s nothing between us. Nothing that breathes life into our relationship."

A hint of bitterness shimmered between the words. I said nothing—I had nothing to say. Simply because I was single. Instead,I started searching for patterns. The women around me shared a slow but certain pain, each speaking about their disappointment in their husbands.

"Why is it always men who decide what matters most?" Augusta continued. "They think we’ll do anything for marriage, but they don’t understand that we also want something—something they don’t give us. It’s all a performance, a game we can never win."

"Well, since we’re talking about men," Cedrella said with a teasing smile, "tell me, who was the first man who truly made your heart race?"

The question stirred a slight tension in the conversation, each woman trying to hide a forgotten piece of her past.

"Oh, my first?" Augusta let out a small, nostalgic laugh. "He was a real charmer, you know—the kind who always won everything. But then I realized I was just part of the game. And, of course, it ended."

Weasley quietly revealed a secret. "Mine... was a professor. But I never told him. I remember he was always there, somewhere in the distance, but I could never reach him."

The group laughed, but in each of their eyes lingered a past not easily forgotten. The laughter slowly faded, and I drifted back into my thoughts.

My first love wasn’t a professor, nor a famous figure. It was Tom Riddle.

"So, he was my first. With him, everything was completely different," I admitted, no longer caring what my friends might think. A faint blush rose to my cheeks, but the words spilled out before I could stop them.

Cedrella, just catching on to the direction of the conversation, shot me a curious look. "Oh, so his name is just ‘he’? Well, that’s very creative. And what happened to him?" she teased.

I hesitated for a moment, a single tear glinting in my eye before I lowered my gaze. "He was always just... there. I haven’t seen him since Hogwarts, but he never expected me to be perfect. We simply… talked."

The room fell silent for a moment, the women exchanging glances as I sank deeper into my thoughts.

"And where is he now?" Augusta asked, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

"He lives in a completely different world now," I replied bitterly.

Cedrella shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "Well, this Mr. ‘He’ sounds like a fascinating young man."

I laughed.

I had thought about Tom too much tonight. I had thought about him too much over the years.

And I was too drunk.

If I hadn't admitted it to myself before,I knew it now: he wasn’t just a memory.

Without a word, I stood up, adjusted my dress, and walked toward the bar with steady steps.

A young witch working behind the counter—perhaps an apprentice—was wiping a glass when I spoke up.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the telephones?"

The woman behind the bar looked at me with slight surprise, then nodded. "Down the back hallway, to the right. There are a few booths for guests."

I nodded in thanks and pushed through the crowd. The smoky air, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all faded into the background as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Along the wall stood a row of red telephone booths, their polished brass handles gleaming under the low light.

None of them were occupied. Fate wanted me to do this.

I stepped into one, closed the door behind me, and stared at the telephone for a moment. It was cold under my touch, the weight of the black receiver resting familiarly in my hand. As familiar as a telephone could be to a woman in the 1950s.

I knew the number. It was nothing more than an old memory, something I had last heard years ago. But some things one never forgets.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to dial.

A click. The line came to life. A faint hum sounded in the distance.

One ring.Another.

My fingers tightened around the receiver, my heart pounding harder than it should.

Then—a soft click. Someone had answered.

"Tom?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I recognized his voice. Time had done nothing to dull that cool, measured tone that had always been his. But there was something else there now—perhaps a hint of curiosity.

I smiled into the receiver, but when I spoke, even I was surprised by how drunken my voice sounded.

"Hiiiii Toooom."

"Are you all right?" he asked. His voice was as calm as ever, but somehow, it still carried a trace of concern.

I tried to laugh, but it came out as a rough little sigh. My head buzzed from the alcohol, my thoughts were tangled, but somehow, right now, none of it mattered.

Only that Tom Riddle was on the other end of the line.

"Of course. I'm fine."

I paused for a moment before adding, "I just... wanted to call you."

He said nothing.

And suddenly,I felt foolish. I shouldn't have done this. It was stupid.

But the words had already slipped out before I could stop them.

"Do you… um… remember me?"

On the other end of the line, Riddle was silent for a moment. The kind of silence that was typical of him. Not empty, not uncertain—just his mind working, analyzing the situation with precise, deliberate calculation.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Y/N."

There was no question in his voice. No hesitation. Just my name, spoken in that same old, familiar tone.

I closed my eyes. It was strange how, after all these years, my name still sounded like that on his lips. Not cold, not warm—just… the way he had always said it.

"Of course I remember you."

I let out a quiet laugh. I hadn’t even realized I was expecting something else. Maybe polite indifference, a dismissive "Y/N? No, doesn’t ring a bell." Or perhaps for him to simply hang up. But no. He wasn’t like that. He never forgot anything.

"Good… because… because I remember you too."

Tom was silent again, and somewhere in the background, I heard a faint noise. Something shifting—perhaps he was moving things around in the shop.

"Is that why you called?" he asked. Not accusingly. Just curious.

Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. Why had I called?

One moment I had been laughing with my friends, and the next, I was here, clutching the telephone as if it were the only thing keeping me grounded.

The silence stretched between us, and I felt the receiver growing heavier in my hand.

"I… heard you work at Borgin & Burkes," I said finally. The words slipped out more easily than expected. "And I’ve always been a big fan of the shop."

A lie. I had never even set foot inside. It was a run-down, wretched place.

I pressed my lips together, wanting to take back the words, but it was too late. Then the man let out a quiet laugh.

He laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t cold. Just a small, barely audible, sigh-like chuckle.

"Y/N"

He knew. He knew I was lying.

I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself. "Okay. Maybe I’m not a big fan of it."—"Maybe I’ve never even been there."

"Maybe?" he echoed, and now his voice was unmistakably amused.

I smiled. This was a fun game. "Alright, fine. I’ve never been there," I finally admitted. "But that’s not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Tom’s voice was calm again, patiently waiting for me to say why I really called.

But I wasn’t sure if I could put it into words. Because if I said it out loud, it would become real.

"Alright. Let me tell you something, okay?"

Riddle didn’t respond immediately, but I could almost feel his attention on me ."I liked you at school. A lot."

A brief silence. "Oh. Well, that was quite obvious," he added.

I closed my eyes for a moment. No. He didn’t understand. "No—Tom." His name was barely a whisper on my lips. "I liked you like that. You know..."

My heart pounded in my throat.

On the other end of the line, a short silence, then he spoke again—coolly, precisely, yet somehow entertained.

"Oh… and you don’t have a husband to confess such things to?"

I smiled. Typical Tom. He didn’t get flustered, didn’t get embarrassed—he analyzed from the outside instead.

"I don’t."

He didn’t answer right away, but I could almost hear him weighing his response in his mind. Then, finally, he spoke.

"That’s quite surprising. At your age, you’re practically an old maid."

I let out a shocked laugh. "Oh, really? And you’re the one lecturing me? Let me guess—you’re single too."

On the other end of the line, there was another small pause. I grinned. Gotcha.

I felt like this was getting to be too much.

"Alright, this is getting awkward," I laughed nervously, twisting the phone cord around my fingers. "And I think you’re right, I... am ridiculously drunk."

I took a deep breath, then, more to myself than to him, I added, "And I think it was good to say it. Now I can finally let you go..."

The words had a bittersweet ring to them. "I need to find a husband," I added playfully, but my voice trembled slightly. "Well— I guess I should hang up now."

I was about to put the receiver down when Riddle spoke.

"Wait."

I froze at the command.

"Don't hang up."—"I missed you," he added.

My heart pounded in my throat. Then Tom spoke again, slower this time.

"You don’t have to find a husband."—There was no mockery in his voice. No condescension.

I didn’t interrupt.

"I probably won’t have a wife either," he continued. "So what? Who cares what others think?"

I closed my eyes.

"Sooner or later, you'll see—the world is going to change."

The usual silence. My fingers were still gripping the receiver, but I couldn’t speak. Tom never said things like this. He never talked about the future this way.

"Where are you?"

I hesitated, trying to gather my thoughts, then finally answered, "At the Hog’s Head Inn."

The man froze for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle. "Well, aren’t you a refined lady?"

"Stay there," he said after a brief pause, making his decision.

A moment of silence passed through the line. Then, without another word, he hung up.

I placed the receiver back down and stood there for a moment, gripping the phone. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even process his words. What did he mean by 'stay there?'

When I finally moved, I returned to the girls, who were still sitting at the table, laughing softly, some spinning their empty glasses. As I sat down, my friends looked at me—and within seconds, they could read it all over my face. Something had happened.

"What happened? Where were you?" Augusta asked from the other end of the table, watching me curiously. Cedrella was listening too, but I didn’t say anything.

I hesitated for a moment, my eyes slowly scanning the married women in front of me. I took a deep breath—I wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away. My friends watched me attentively but remained silent, letting me decide when and how to speak.

"Alright..." I began, my voice slightly hoarse, the words painfully hard to push out. "This is going to be... a bit messy, but I’ll tell you."

I tried to force a small smile, but it didn’t quite work.

"So... you know that Tom and I were always friends. So, yeah… he’s Mr.'He'. And well… when we left Hogwarts, everything changed. A little, you know… maybe life just pulled us apart," I muttered, watching as curiosity grew on my friends' faces with each word.

"And I went to the bartender because I asked where the phones were," I laughed quietly, but the laughter quickly turned into tension. "You know, I just wanted to talk."

Another brief silence followed. The girls waited patiently for me to continue.

"And… in the end, I told him. After too many years, I finally opened my mouth and said that I liked him. And I guess he didn’t feel the same, because he started avoiding the topic."

After a short, almost awkward pause, I continued. "And when it was over, he told me to stay here." I fell silent for a moment.

"But I... I don’t get it," I laughed at myself."Why am I supposed to stay here?"

Cedrella, who was always the one to see things the fastest, spoke up first.

"Y/N, don’t you see?" she asked as if the answer were obvious. "He told you to stay here because he’s probably coming. He just…" she shrugged. "Maybe he thought it was obvious to you. Because it would be—to anyone else."

"Oh, I genuinely thought he meant I should just drown myself in this pile of wine. And then my body would stay here. You know," I muttered, resting my head in my hands.

"Good grief, you are completely unhinged… and morbid," Augusta replied calmly but firmly.

I pushed myself up from the table, and the girls exchanged glances but didn’t say a word.

"I need to get some fresh air," I said, forcing a faint smile before heading for the door. The girls didn’t stop me—they knew that what I needed now wasn’t company.

As I stepped out of the door, the cool night air refreshed me a little, and for a moment, the world around me quieted. The streetlights flickered softly, and there was nothing else to be heard. I tried to absorb the entire night. My heart was still pounding, but now that I was alone, I tried to collect my thoughts.

"Why did I do this?" I muttered to myself. The effects of the alcohol had faded, but the chaos in my mind was still there. Why had it been so important to tell him all of that? And why did I feel like I couldn't leave the conversation unfinished?

I tried to calm my heart when I heard footsteps behind me.A beam of light briefly illuminated the man's figure, and my heart began to race again. It was Tom Riddle.

He looked like a fallen angel—almost unnaturally handsome, but there was something corrupt about him, something carelessly sinful, hinting at unspoken depravity. His face was unforgettable, but at the same time unsettling, a face that could easily be cast for the roles of cruel men, cannibals, or even Lucifer himself.

My heart skipped a beat.

Tom stopped in front of me ,his gaze sweeping over me, and then a faint, almost mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I didn’t want us to meet like this..." he said, a bit of embarrassment in his voice, but there was still a certain intimacy in his eyes. "But here we are."

I didn’t know how to respond. Amidst the swirling feelings in my heart, I finally just said, "That’s true," I replied softly, turning my gaze away for a moment, trying to process everything I had felt since our previous conversation.

The man's footsteps were soft as he stepped closer. He paused for a moment, then, as if following an inner command, carefully touched my face. His touch was cold, yet a shiver ran through me.

There was a strange pain in Riddle’s eyes as he leaned in. My heart pounded faster, but something about the entire situation made him inexplicably unreachable.

"You know well that I was conceived under the effects of Amortentia," Tom said, his voice deep and serious. "I can't give you what you desire. At least, not the way normal people do."

I froze for a moment, the weight of his words suffocating me. Yes, he had told me this before. He had confessed it back in my school years.

"Tom..." I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His story was simply too much, too painful.

He stepped closer, his gaze devouring every inch of my face, trying to understand every hidden emotion, searching for what I was truly looking for. His touch felt as if it wanted to break me gently.

"I couldn’t love you that way," he said, his voice sinking even lower as the words left his lips. "My feelings aren’t like that. Not the way you think. Even 'desire' isn’t the right word. What I feel for you is a need. A compulsion. I need you, Y/N. But not the way others do..."

The words were difficult for him to say. But with every moment, the painful truth became clearer.

"My love is like an obsessive hunger. I can't give you what an ordinary man can. My love is dark, insatiable, and it will never be fulfilled. Just like me."

"I want it... I want you," I whispered, still not fully understanding what I was agreeing to. The desire consuming both of us left no room to stop.

Tom’s lips met mine. The kiss turned intense immediately, and the entire world fell silent around us—only we existed. His lips were wild and hungry.

I felt as if I was losing control, as if everything I had thought before suddenly lost its meaning. The sensation he awakened in me wasn’t normal, wasn’t ordinary.

Riddle's hands gripped me firmly—he never wanted to let go. The kiss grew deeper, more desperate, more untamed.

And then, suddenly, he stopped.

The air was thick with tension, and raw yearning mixed with fear and uncertainty.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice strained. "There’s no turning back now."

[butterflydm]

WoT rewatch thoughts (1x5-1x08)

Still has spoilers through the s3 information that we have so far and book spoilers through a memory of light.

1x05

Both beginning and ending this episode on funeral rituals worked so well. Great structure.

Time skip for traveling! Mark a month off on the calender.

We can really see how Mat has deteriorated in the last month by the way he snaps at the kid who runs into him.

Love the shot of Dragonmount looming behind Tar Valon. They exist always with that reminder of what the Dragon did.

Mat has no appetite. Poor sad wet cat.

The betrayal of there being Two Beds in this inn room, lol. Why are we not respecting the classic fic tropes?

Rand reassuring Mat that he didn't kill that little girl or her family. Rand believing so hard in Mat's goodness maybe partly because he can see that Mat is having a difficult time seeing it in himself.

Even with Nynaeve's coat off, she's still half Green and half Yellow.

Moiraine trying so hard to mentor Nynaeve and she Does Not Want It.

Man, Perrin and Egwene had a much more cheerful journey than either of the other sets. But they get plenty of trauma right now, so they don't need to be jealous.

Once again, the show does such a good job showing us the strength in the Tuatha'an. And this thread will continue into Perrin's storyline in s3, with both Whitecloaks & Tuatha'an. They've done a solid job of tying Perrin to them both.

Loial shows up and immediately calls Rand an Aielman, lol. Poor Rand!

Oh, I see you, Fain!

Oof, people throwing food at Logain and mocking him. Baffled at the people who say the downsides of being a man who can channel weren't shown.

The promise scene between Mat & Rand is so good. Ultimate sad wet cat Mat. I really do love everything about this scene.

I really like our exploration of Stepin's utter and compete grief and emptiness after Kerene's death. How much the other Warders try to help him, how Nynaeve tries to help him but it isn't enough.

Love love what they did with the old rings being melted down (to create new).

Between what happens with the Whitecloaks here and then the Seanchan in s2, Egwene reacting by being as fiercely independent as possible makes all the sense in the world.

The Whitecloaks and Tower novices both wearing all white seems like it might create some emotional dissonance for Egwene, but I understand why the show didn't go there. That's just down to Jordan making too many groups of people wear white.

Oof, the Whitecloak stuff with Egwene & Perrin is hard to watch.

But our first hint of Perrin's golden eyes.

I note how Valda feels about all channelers similarly to how Liandrin feels about male channelers. And then we can get into the Seanchan's dehumanization of channelers as well.

Liandrin trying to bond more with Nynaeve. Has she been having ta'veren dreams? Ishy has had a month to try to figure out at least some of the places where his potential ta'veren have gone.

Our first reunion! It's always such a relief when any of them get to reunite. Man, Mat really does look on the verge of death.

Nynaeve can now join Rand & Mat in the Not Trusting Aes Sedai or Moiraine squad. Oops.

She tells Rand a story about Egwene to reassure him of Egwene's strength, never realizing that it's also the moment when Nynaeve likely channeled for the first time (to heal Egwene).

Perrin shares his deepest shame and secret with Egwene here - that he killed Laila by accident during the battle. So Perrin & Egwene's journey ends up being also very traumatic but the trauma was concentrated into the last day or so of the journey.

And just like was hinted at with the fire, Egwene & Perrin are finding their power at the same time. I wonder if this will happen again with their TAR training in s3? I really hope they run across each other in TAR. Let the characters stay connected!

Liandrin definitely got shot down by Moiraine at some time in the past.

Love the whole "shrine to ward off the Forsaken" thing. Great touch.

Siuan has been off in Caemlyn - was she talking to Elaida about Elayne, or was it about politics?

Moiraine: the White Tower's Woman of Mystery. Everyone wants to know what she's up to!

Alanna got such a glow-up in the show compared to the books. She's great here.

We get another nod to accepted poly relationships (amid the Green Ajah, at least).

Great conversation between Stepin & Lan. And a heartbreaking conclusion to Stepin's little mini-arc of grief and the Warder bond.

1x06

Little baby Siuan! ❤️ ❤️

Our first look at Tear as well.

Such a great way to introduce Siuan, considering they wouldn't have her for more than one episode this season.

And we learn in some places that it's dangerous for a woman to learn to channel - it's not only the Whitecloaks who assume that everyone who can channel is a Darkfriend.

Given that we know now (as of s2) that Moiraine & Siuan are older here than in the books, I wonder if that means her dad has already passed on.

Much like Egwene, Siuan is strongly associated with the water.

(This scene made me tear up too. I've cried three or four times today, I think)

Leane wearing light colors here vs the darker colors she wore in the s3 sneak peek to bash a Darkfriend's head in.

Another scene that gains so much depth on rewatch- knowing about Moiraine & Siuan's relationship & knowing about Liandrin being Black Ajah.

We just saw Stepin choose death in the previous emptiness of losing his bond, now Logain seeks and is refused death while suffering the emptiness of losing his connection to the One Power.

Everyone does still look good here, but the costumes definitely got a glow-up in s2 & again in s3.

The only main player in this scene not playing an elaborate game is Alanna. Siuan and Moiraine are pretending not to be in cahoots, Liandrin is pretending not to be Black Ajah - Liandrin trying to fracture the divides between the Ajahs, and also throwing Moiraine under the bus. A lot of Daes Dae'mar going on.

I also feel obligated to note that around this time frame is the jumping off point of my (now over 500k!) fic series: voice in the back of my head (archiveofourown.org/series/2688649). It is Cauthor-focused (Mat & Rand romance), though it does bring in the canon romances for Rand later on and we have some fun poly relationships going on, and it is currently spoiling through the twelfth book, but each fic in the series says how far that particular fic goes with regards to spoilers. The fic premise is: Liandrin found Rand & co instead of Moiraine finding them, and Rand is motivated enough to instinctively Travel himself, Mat, and Nynaeve to Tear because he wants to escape her.

This fic has been a lot of work and I am pretty proud of it so if you feel at all inclined to read an AU of the series that starts with the idea of "what if we gently slid Mat into Rand's romance situation?" and is a mix of show and book canon... give it a try. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts. <3

Anyway, Moiraine be spying on Rand & co., waiting for Nynaeve & Loial to leave to go talk to Rand & Mat.

Rand's protectiveness over Mat on this scene is really what threw my shipping switches on for them. He pulls a sword on Lan, despite knowing he had no chance against him!

"The world doesn't need a Dragon like me."

But Moiraine has figured out this is something else, not going mad from saidin, and Mat gets healed of the dagger's sickness.

So... was Rand using the One Power to help keep Mat from succumbing to the dagger's pull? Moiraine thinks that Mat shouldn't have been able to resist as long as he did.

We get some Tower politics, and we get the first hints of the Seanchan.

Moiraine is just encountering so much weirdness with these kids. Now there are wolves, she must be thinking to herself. Wolves!

The romance reveal scene! I like this change for several reasons- it's better romance than either gets in the books, it follows naturally from the NS relationship setup, and it adds drama for Moiraine, who did get a bump from mentor figure to being a protagonist.

It also gives the show a chance to show softer and warmer sides to both Moiraine & Siuan. Plus the nice play between duty & love bodes well for other romances.

I love how they reunite and only afterwards does Moiraine let Siuan know about the Dragon. Priorities!

And it makes so much sense that Moiraine has been doubting their prophecies after all this time on the road, while Siuan hasn't been out there with disappointment after disappointment.

This conversation also (unintentionally, given that it was a last-minute change) sets up Moiraine deciding she'd rather have the Reds potentially gentle the Dragon than risk Mat choosing to join the Shadow, because she thinks he's not strong enough to resist.

Ishy deliberately sent Siuan that dream. 😭

Liandrin knows too much. She definitely has been getting Ishy dreams.

Another reunion!

And the convo with Siuan is great. Nynaeve not bowing still cracks me up. Egwene going "wtf, nynaeve can channel? and she's stronger than I am?" with just her face is also hilarious.

Egwene & Nynaeve get a much kinder pep talk from Siuan than poor Rand gets in s2.

Moiraine's exiling is another great, emotional scene. And it also teaches us more about how the Oath Rod works, and sets some reasons in place for the Hall to be wary of Siuan. And sets up some precedents for the future.

And Moiraine trusting and giving more to Siuan than she was asked to give in the Oath - not just exile but obedience. That's gonna hurt a lot when we get to s2.

Even though she literally asked for it, it's obvious how hard it is on Moiraine to see her Sisters turn their backs on her.

But now we do (briefly) get our full Two Rivers reunion, and that is lovely. Hugs all around! Fond teasing! They love each other!

So we know that it wasn't actually the Dark One who was trapped at the Eye, so... it sounds like the knowledge of the location of the Dark One's prison is lost to time. It does make sense that Darkfriends would target that info specifically.

Moiraine not able to tell them that she trusts them, due to her Oaths, is a. so funny and b. makes it mean so much in s2 when she is willing and able to say that she trusts Rand (this is the real reason why it's difficult for me to get on board with The Ruse (TM) theory - because it feels like it would retroactively ruin that 2x07 moment between Moiraine & Rand).

Now that he's pretty sure Mat can't channel and isn't the Dragon, Rand knows deep down who it really is.

But then we lose Barney-Mat at the Waygate and I'm sad!

You can tell this very last scene was shot after the post-covid shutdown, because Maddy (Egwene) lost some roundness in her cheeks during those in-between months and it makes her eyes look a lot bigger.

I adore Donál's Mat but also miss Barney's. The feelings are both very present.

1x07

The Blood Snow! So epic. I love everything about this scene.

I will say, given that we have a stabbed pregnant Tigraine in the side here and it looks like we're getting a flashback to pregnant Morgase in s3, it does feel fairly likely that we will get pregnant Elayne as well, later on in the series. Tigraine gets stabbed the same way that Elayne is described as being stabbed in one of the super-late books (can't remember which, so I'll tag through AMoL) iirc.

Tigraine really did give every ounce of herself to her destiny, and I'm so glad the show version of her got a moment of kindness and compassion at the end.

Moiraine's cynicism about Mat vs Rand's rose-colored glasses about Mat: fight!

Nynaeve doing her job as Wisdom to keep all the kiddos together and make a promise to find Mat later.

"The one thing that we cannot afford is for the Dragon to turn to the Shadow."

Lan trying to cheer Nynaeve up is very sweet.

Egwene wants to sleep near Rand and he lets her this time (contrast to 1x02, when he pushed her away).

I like negging Machin Shin better than the version in the books, I admit it. It's more personal! Just relentlessly dunking on everyone's deepest fears.

Everyone looks so haunted. Poor kiddos.

I don't understand the people who don't understand the big fight. Everyone is so on edge from what they just went through! They are all overly emotional and vulnerable right now. The fight could have been MUCH uglier and still been valid tbh.

Uno! Congrats on your s2 upgrade to Hero of the Horn!

Another confession: I find this Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa much more interesting and memorable than the ones in the books. And I was kinda relieved that the show took the whole Five Great Captains thing off the table right away.

I also love their outfits.

Oh, hi, Fain! I suspect we'll get to see more of him in s3.

Min is so much better in the show than the books, omg. Just... on every level. She actually is jaded and world-weary.

"There is a man they must find. A boy, really."

Given that we saw Mat visibly recoil at hearing the Red Ajah mentioned in that s3 clip, I wonder if we're going to see him & Moiraine actually talk about it. I mean, it's in character for both of them to avoid that particular convo, so we will see!

Egwene's little quip at Rand's cooking is cute but I bet contributes to that feeling of Rand's that she doesn't see him as a man but as a boy.

I like how Min's visions were used here. And that she does what Moiraine blackmailed her into but holds back enough to protect what she knows would be the biggest secret (that Rand is the Dragon) because she doesn't feel like it's hers to reveal.

I really love how the shot with the three kids is framed to show the empty chair at the back to emphasis Mat's absence.

Anyway, I like the fight. Characters should be allowed to be messy and argue. Each of them has a perspective and is stubborn about that PoV.

Egwene is right that Moiraine can't lie, but the others are right that she can mislead or withhold.

And I love that the tipping point for the actual fight is Mat & his absence.

And then Nynaeve lobbing a bomb into the conversation as soon as it gets heated enough that she's getting uncomfortable. I mean, they aren't arguing about Mat anymore, at least?

Perrin's super-close "the only woman I've ever loved is my wife" and the hot five seconds that I shipped Perrin & Rand (but then Mat was mentioned in Rand's 1x08 fantasy world and I was right back to Cauthor lol).

I like that Lan had Malkieri friends alive in Fal Dara & I'm pretty stoked about the s3 Melindhra spoilers as well. Very cool to dive more into those relationships than we did in the books. Nynaeve getting an introduction to Lan's people & culture! After he got to know hers in 1x01! Very nice.

Jump-scare Lan does crack me up.

Anyway, good for Nynaeve and Lan for hooking up when they think there's a chance they might die in the morning.

Rand struggles with coming to terms with being the Dragon but Egwene thinks this is all about the big fight earlier. So they are having two different conversations right now.

Hey, in light of this convo- Rand is going to go to, well, Tar Valon anyway. Maybe not the White Tower itself. We'll see if he gets a doorway visit or not.

But this is Rand's big final burst of denial before he goes and talks to Min, confirming to himself that he's the Dragon, as he's tried not to believe that he is. So we've now had two instances of Randgwene sex used to delay or avoid an important conversation.

I am... very curious if the pattern continues in s3. Pretty sure they'll sleep together again, from what we've gotten in the trailers & such, but I am curious about the framing & context.

This montage of Rand accepting the truth about himself gives me chills.

Min's exhaustion here makes her so relatable.

I am so glad Tigraine had someone to hold her hand at the end. That she saw that her son would be taken care of.

"Rainbows and carnivals and three beautiful women." 😍

Elayne only three episodes away (2x02, right?), and Aviendha a little bit after that, but they are on their way! And this is our first hint about them.

1x08

3000 years ago, whoo!

Love their outfits.

Love the choice to have the AoL scenes in the Old Tongue.

LTT is perfect. Genuinely so good.

And the gut punch of seeing how technologically advanced the world used to be. It was a magitek utopia (or at least seemed that way to them).

I do wish that Rafe & co could have brought their original vision of this episode to life, because it is so devastating to go over all the things they lost (a principal actor! Their original Blight location! Their stunt team! Even more that I can't recall at the moment too I bet) but they did so much with what they had. I am so fucking impressed.

"I love him, Perrin." And then she thinks he died to save all of them. Yeah they do need to finish things off properly in the show.

Lan 100% thinks that going after Moiraine right now means his death, hence the sweet but flowery speech to Nynaeve here.

Ishy and Rand come face to face. I wonder who Ishy thought the Dragon was (he says he didn't expect it to be Rand). I love the reveal of Ishy's true face. And trying to touch Rand's face right away lol.

"Stubborn as ever, Lews."

The convo between Moiraine & Rand is interesting (all of them are) but partly because Moiraine doesn't actually say that she believed it was Egwene. I think she hoped it was Egwene but that's not quite the same. And Rand doesn't ever really think it was Egwene either, except maybe at the start, because we know he was worried it was Mat during that month of them journeying together.

Hey, the horrible bully from Moiraine's story! We're gonna meet her in s3. Because that story is about Elaida. She beat a novice with the One Power to force her to channel.

Min is very amusing in the show. I like her a lot. I really like that we get to go on an emotional journey along with Min about the downsides of having her viewings in s2, instead of it all happening before we show up in her life.

Again, really like the relationship between the siblings here - Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa. It's sweet.

"Let us hope we will buy the women and men of this world enough time to stand a fighting chance."

Rand recognizes the place where he locked Ishy up years ago. Love that we get to see that moment in s2.

Moiraine talking about the Tower's histories getting destroyed by Darkfriends. Very important note, I feel.

And Ishy springs his win-win trap. There was no actual way for Rand to win here, because he didn't know who he was fighting.

I've mentioned this before but I love that the show split up the battle into philosophical (Rand) vs physical (everyone else) because that's the Last Battle too. Rand's fight is a philosophical one and it always was. The Power is there to get him to where he needs to be to make that choice.

Our mention of Mat in Rand's temptation world, where Egwene is clearly being fondly exasperated but not truly annoyed. So, you know, like how Rand feels about Mat.

Ishy plays with his food, taunting and shielding Moiraine.

Perrin and Loial's friendship being a throughline for all three seasons, getting to know each other here, spending more time together in s2, and Loial going home with him in s3.

Rand struggling against a hollow perfect reality. Major, major foreshadowing for the endgame so I'm glad I already listed amol spoilers.

And Rand also needs to forcibly let go of Egwene and his dream of their life together in order to wake up from his encounter with Ishamael, something that Egwene doesn't get the opportunity to do, because the boyfriend she recently reunited with heroically died in order to save the world (to her understanding). So Rand and Egwene go into s2 (and presumably s3) with very different contexts about where their relationship left off.

You know, in retrospect, it's so appropriate that the Horn was being guarded by one of the Heroes.

Ishy is so smug here because he really does win no matter what. Tbh I feel like waking up Lanfear was his big mistake in s2. Because her agenda is different enough from his that they ended up conflicting, even though they share an LTT obsession.

That being said, even though this is a win-win for Ishy, what Rand learns here can/will help him win the Last Battle. So it works out in the long run.

Rand & Moiraine believe that the Last Battle is won, so she's willing to let him wander off to die in the wilderness if he wants... and then she kicks herself forever when she realizes how wrong she was. Like, it's Moiraine & Siuan's plan that fully releases Ishy. They thought they could do an endrun around the prophecies (which Moiraine has to be fully aware that Rand has not accomplished!).

As Moiraine might say "the arrogance".

Love the setup here at the end by Fain.

"Rand may be the Dragon but all five of you have a part to play."

And Moiraine. "This wasn't the Last Battle. I fear it was the first."

And our great intro to the Seanchan and how wildly different they are to anything we've already seen.

Tomorrow, I'll start rewatching s2 and see how far I get!

[shaisuki]

𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 ━━━━━━ 黎深

— it wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?

notes. requested by @itsmearia01 . to be continued in part two

content warnings. angst + unrequited love + arranged marriage + emotional neglect + emotional cheating + non mc reader + insecurities + doubts + lack of affection + slow burn + drinking + clubbing.

It is said the most successful of marriages comes from respect and it shall evolve to mutual understanding for the parties involved.

That's what you thought to yourself when you come of age that you were informed of a arranged marriage to your childhood friend, Zayne.

It had come to that arrangement for Zayne's parents have saved your mother from the complications of birth just to have you and upon your birth comes the arrangement that their child and you shall be brought to union later in life. It was a fine match indeed. That's what your parents and Zayne's agreed.

Thus, it came hurting you later at life.

Zayne is respectful and never treated you different from others. Although he ignored you most of the time and feels like you didn't exist in his life. Well, who could blame him. It wasn't a match he chose for himself, it was his parents and yours. It was unfair that he didn't have much of a choice.

Blinded by your admiration for him — it didn't deter you how cold he was to you. Zayne's heart was made of ice and maybe you can melt it. You knew Zayne was a softie after all. Cold and stoic he may come, he did care. He likes animals, children too that's why he's close to his patients. He's also fond of sweets! That's why you pack him extra sweets and learned to make macarons, his favorites.

That's why it never bothered you when he treats you like air. At least he knows he have a fiancee. That's what you say to yourself. Convincing that one day, Zayne will look at you in your eyes.

It was far fetched dream though but you could dream. Looking positive.

Not until she came in the picture and oh, how you wished you were her. What efforts that you poured just for him to say a word about you takes her for only a second. Zayne looks at her eyes. Zayne compliments her and he always noticed her first.

You did try but all it takes for her was to come and melt the frozen heart of Zayne. His heart wasn't totally frozen, it was incapable of being thawed when it comes to you. He's sweet on her and that's when you realize — you lost the battle, a long time ago.

He was with you but he's mind was with thoughts of her. You knew he wasn't going to pursue cardiology if it wasn't for her. She's sick. A heart syndrome but Zayne spent his studies understanding the human heart and the Protocore Syndrome. It was all for her. His achievements was for her.

How could you also compete? Zayne fondly mentioned her that she's a deepspace hunter and possesses a rare type of Evol — Anhaunsen Class: Resonance. Amazing! Good with kids, cheerful, and she's pretty with her pale skin, long straight dark brown hair and she's thin too. You were not.

You can't even get the same response as Zayne would have spoken to her. He deeply cares for her. Why wouldn't he be? Zayne even took as being her primary care physician.

It doesn't matter though, you still support him for you were going to be his wife and he as your husband. If he doesn't want that, he should have called off the engagement a long time ago.

And as soon-to-be-his wife, you can endure it. That's how a marriage should work when another one endures for the comfort of the other.

It doesn't matter when he prioritize her. She's sick, what could be your reason. He's her physician.

It didn't hurt when he forget to eat the lunch that you prepared for him. He's a doctor, he's busy with operations even you later learned that they had lunch together.

It didn't hurt you when he gave you a plushie knowing that it was a duplicate and she owned one too.

It didn't hurt when he's uninterested to you, he could be obvious about it but he didn't.

It simply didn't hurt cause you were used to it and then one day, you stopped caring. You didn't even have the strength to cry and if you did, you'd be joining Heartbreaker crying near the trash bins.

The clock read one pm. It's lunch time for Zayne and he didn't have the time to grab food in the cafeteria when it's only thirty minutes away for the next scheduled operation and he remembers you always brought him lunch. It's usually placed in his desk. Wrapped in pastel blue square cloth, dotted with snowflakes and a snowman in the middle but there was nothing. Yvonne hasn't informed him earlier of your presence so maybe you forgot it.

Checking his phone, there wasn't a message too. He ignored it. He presses his phone off and decided he will just grab a bite later.

At first, it didn't bother him.

How your messages were a rare occurrence nowadays. A casual — how's your day? Or a simple good morning. Usually when he wakes up it's the influx of messages coming from you. Texting him what he wanted for dinner or what how's he feeling for the day or the simple cat video that you know he likes. Now, he's staring at the screen. The last message were a week ago.

Then, how you don't speak anymore with mirth.

The café was nice. She recommended it. The atmosphere was cool and he doesn't hear your voice anymore. Quietly sitting while sipping your drink — your gaze fixated on a distance. You casually hum and that's the end.

“Is something bothering you?”

Wow. A full question. That's a first.

The ice in your drink clinks as put it in the table. Absentmindedly stirring the cold liquid with a straw. “It's nothing of concern.” Your gaze focused on the table. It wasn't wiped properly. You barely glanced at him.

“I won't push you to say something but I'm here to listen to you.” How assuring. Zayne notices how you didn't much respond. Casting a side eye glance, your eyebrows raising a bit and your lips pressed in a thin line.

He was about to say something when his phone rings. “Go on.” You weakly drawled. He swipes the phone to the left declining the call. “It's my day off. I shouldn't be bothered with work.”

A humorless chuckle left your mouth before you can stop it. Work. It's her. “I'm sorry, you don't reject calls like that, Zayne. Don't let me hinder your work.”

“No, my day offs are reserved for you.” He said with a small smile.

It was more like a obligation than willingness. He doesn't enjoy being with you. He rather prefers being with her.

“If you say so.” You finished your drink. Grabbing your shoulder bag, you stand up. “I shall not occupy much of your time. I'll be going.” Ignoring his comment, you pushed your chair.

“(Y/N), did I do something to upset you?”

You shaked your head in dismissal. “You didn't do anything to upset me. I have urgent matters to attend to, have a good day.”

“Do you want something for tonight.” He attempts again to offer you. Something to ease your mind.

“Don't bother.” Is what you said before leaving.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. You were finishing the last touches of your makeup and you pat your brush down before putting the final touches of your makeup.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Zayne and usually, you've gone ecstatic. Always eager with him being in the room and you can only look at him indifferently.

“Zayne, I didn't know you were coming.” Opening the door wider to let him in. He took his coat and puts it in the rack. You noticed he was holding multiple plastic bags containing the contents of your grocery list. You ignored it.

The cardiologist followed you with his gaze. Noticing your all dolled up appearance. Your tube denim dress layered with a white shirt. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Clubbing with a few girlfriends.” Your voice clipped and you went back to your room to grab your bag.

“You don't like nightclubs.” He casually commented. Putting the groceries in their rightful places in the cupboard.

“I don't but it's a nice change. You know, you didn't have to stay here. You can go if you want.” Tapping the heel of your platform boots in the floor.

“It's fine. Do you want me to drive you there?” Zayne offerers. Loosening his tie.

“No.” You shortly replied and slammed the door.

It was a weekend. The club was packed with sweaty bodies crowding in the middle of the dance floor. The neon lights bouncing at the rhythm of the loud music. This wasn't your scene and yet, he sees you happily dancing with a friend. Laughing under the lights when your friend whispered.

Zayne have followed you. Concerned of your well-being.

It feels different and Zayne wasn't used to seeing you like this. Unexpected for someone who acts so proper and prim. He knows that everyone have pleasures but this was different.

He watches you drink. Downing a glass, shots after shots. Drinking the burning liquid like it was water. Zayne's brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. He approaches you.

The brightly colored glass looks tiny in your fingers. You admired the liquid sloshing as you tip it back and forth before bringing it to your lips but before you can drink it. A voice popped besides you.

“That's enough.” His tone firm, grabbing the shot glass from you and putting it on the table. You blink lazily, your movements light and your mouth looser. “Who do you think you are to say that it's enough?” It wasn't a question. You tried to grab the drink again but Zayne holds your wrist.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not.”

“That's what people say when they're drunk.”

Zayne pulls you away from your table. Picking your handbag on the way as he excused you from your friends. You didn't even struggled when he dragged you away from them.

His black Audi A6 is parked and he opens the door to put you in the passenger seat before turning around to sit in the driver's seat. He rolled down the windows in your side. Zayne pulls the seatbelt, making sure you're properly strapped in your seat before doing his.

There's a purr coming from the car after he starts the engine. You remained silent. Eyes glossy and your lips curled. Silently staring at the city lights. You glanced at him and you never felt so resigned at a person. Is this how people felt when they got tired of chasing the person who remains so distant from them — cause if it is — you were done.

Zayne stole a glance at you. Your head propped in the window of his car. He can see the city lights twinkling in the reflection of your eyes. You were in no doubt at the edge of drunkenness. Has he not interfered you were probably wasted with a major hangover. He continued driving. His eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel.

The vehicle stopped in front of the building where your loft is located and you didn't bother to wait for him to open the door. Yanking your seatbelt and letting it slide to its place, you popped the door open and slipped. Walking towards the entrance in small wobbly steps.

Zayne followed you behind. Keeping up with your pace. “Careful.” He steadies you up when you almost tripped. His expression remained neutral even you recoiled from his touch.

You messily swiped your card before punching the numbers before stumbling inside. Your shoes felt incredibly tight. Your fingers fumbling over the laces. Zayne kneeks in front of you. Easily undoing the laces of your boots before pulling the zippers down in the side. He holds your ankle before tugging your boots. He did the other part.

You stare at the man in front of you. Zayne was like a snowflake in your palm — melting. Slipping from your fingers and only to be returned to something new. Different but the same. Sucks he's not that in form to be with you.

“You should rest now. You don't want a hangover in the morning.”

“I told you, I'm not drunk.”

“Then can you tell me what I did something to upset you?”

“For being a party pooper.”

“It's not like you to act that way. Your well-being is my concern.”

“Come on, don't give me the doctor crap.”

“I'm your fiance. I should look after you. You're my priority.”

Priority. Hah.

A hollow laughed escaped your lips. Giggling as you stand up and finding your footing. You stumbled in the living room. Your shoulders shaking in laughter. It must be the alcohol.

Zayne looks at you — confused.

“I'm not your priority, Zayne. I'm an obligation. Something you keep cause it is needed and we both know it.” You look at him in his eyes and your heart breaks a little.

You exhaled before letting out a shaky gasp. Tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. You hated being weak. You hated being hurt.

“You started being concerned when I stopped bothering you.” Then the spiel of you being ignored. Of being hurt began to unveil.

“Don't you ever talked about me being your priority? I'm your priority? Is that so? Cause the last time I checked — ” You brought your finger to your lips, the habit you do when you're thinking before looking at him. “I wasn't for the last time - No, wait. I wasn't for the last years. No, no, no. I wasn't in your whole life.”

A tear slipped out and you furiously wiped it away in frustration. Mad at yourself for trying, for being such a fool.

“You are drunk and you must rest now.” Zayne went to approach you but you slapped his hand away.

“I'm sober as I can be and don't you dare ask me again why I'm upset. I'm upset all of the things. I'm so sick of trying! Of trying to chase after your affections.!”

“You should have said in the first place that you didn't want to do anything with me rather than ignore and act like it's your obligation to be with me! I can understand it! I'm not so dumb, Zayne!”

The words rings in the space of the room. Zayne remains impassive. His green eyes staring right back at you and you felt pathetic. A outburst is all you needed for him to look at you.

Blinking back the tears, your fists clenched on the side. You have lost your words. One must act a fool to be noticed. You lost the strength to speak one more word. The rush of blood pumping in your veins felt like drops.

A beat of silence passed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at you.

“(Y/N), I—”

“I'm glad you still remember my name.” You said dismissively before running back to your room and slamming the door shut.

[magix-winx-club]

Beth was a great Character, you're just misogynistic

Sorry for the title, just want ya'll to read this.

TW: mention of, SA, violence, abuse,

Why Beth is an amazing character and could have been even better:  

Female experience in the Apocalypse: 

We don't focus enough on it, especially in The Walking Dead. We got hints throughout the show. For example the issue with Lori and Birth specifically the talk about her losing the baby with Hershel.

Second Maggie's experience with the Governor. And even though that storyline was well executed to a certain degree. We do not get the full ramifications after her conflict with Glenn was resolved. Yes once more the Female Experience was focused on the man not the woman. Even though the show called Glenn out on his behaviour, it still was about a man feeling angry instead of a woman going through something traumatic. 

So, Beth's experience would have been important going forward. Since she did experience attempted rape. How would she react to people in charge like someone aggressive, loud, outspoken, and unpredictable like Dawn and Gorman? 

How would she take Abraham's unpredictability and outspokenness? How would she deal with the socially inappropriate comments Eugene makes? 

(Again this is not about the men and “oh but they wouldn't do anything” or he is “harmless” etc.) This is about a trauma response. 

So what trauma did Beth experience? 

Firstly she was taken against her will, most likely forcefully in some way (her arm was broken). Her agency was taken, her free will, and the (somewhat) security of her surroundings, mainly her family member Daryl who she knows she can trust. 

So she is kidnapped, put in an unfamiliar environment, unfamiliar people, and she has no idea how to navigate such a situation since she has never been in this situation. The situation mainly being, can she trust them? Can she trust what they are saying? Who are these people? How does it work here and what are their intentions? 

The disorientation she must have felt waking up in that environment must have been traumatic. We see with the camera work if we look at Beth's timeline. Her last words are "I’m not leaving you”. Cut to the car speeding away, cut to Beth waking up in an unfamiliar place. These cuts are very abrupt, confusing, and scary. It serves the purpose of confusing the viewer. (What happened to Beth? I think Daryl put it best “she was just gone") and it makes the viewer anxious, nervous, and the need to know what is going on. So we can imagine that Beth feels these things too. 

Furthermore, the show makes a point to show that the world is not what it used to be. I mean the Team Family lived in a prison after all. So having Beth wake up visually in a clean room. Her face clean, her hair brushed out nicely, and professional medical care is like a break from the (her true) reality Beth lived in. Another point is the music and the way she wakes up. It is almost like a dream sequence. Like she had just been in an accident, but all is well now since she is in the hospital. Almost like a sleeping beauty type of deal (but modernized). 

To sum up, her first Trauma is the shift of reality, specifically of her surroundings. The funeral home was not safe, it was a trap. She is no longer with family, but her agency, which she had to a certain point (cannot control things like walkers, or people attacking their home) is taken completely away. Lastly, the new surroundings differ from what she knows from the outside. It is like back at the farm “we were fooling ourselves into thinking we were safe” and “you don't know what it is like out there,” but Beth does know now. And even though Grady likes to pretend that the outside world did not touch the hospital, it did. Maybe not in the sense of walkers, people looting the place, dirt everywhere, but the mentality presented to us, the question of “Survival of the Fittest” is present in Grady. We see this theory of survival of the fittest through the first 4 seasons, but not in this scenario where people deliberately want the weak to enslave them and claim it is saving them. 

Where do we see Survival of the Fittest? 

Randall and Dale 

Is this a world for kids? 

Disability: Hershel losing his leg 

The Governor and the way he manipulates the “weak” residents of Woodberry and takes out the “fittest” f.ex. the military guys. 

Does sickness discrimination against the weak and the strong? (The flu storyline) 

So now we have Beth's storyline mixed with the question survival of the fittest. Beth is constantly underestimated and Dawn constantly says/tries to show that Beth is not strong. I don't want to focus on how this can be used to your advantage but the mental tool it can take on you. This is a form of demeaning people, keeping them in “their place”. It fucks with your head when things in your past (suicide scar) is used against you, your appearance (Beth is skinny, with big blue eyes and generally deemed innocent and non threatening looking). She outright says “I am strong” but no one believes her. Which is a form of silencing therefore further taking her agency away from her. At one point does Beth start to believe this? would it take months or years for this kind of gaslighting to have an effect? This can be compared to Daryl’s inner monologue in Season 2 when Merle tells him “no one is ever going to love you but me little brother” which we can guess as viewers is something he was told/taught for years and Daryl believed it. 

Now this could have been interesting to see in Alexandria. Before everything happened with the fall of the Farm and the Barn incident. (Even to an extent the prison era) Beth would have fit in perfectly in Alexandrias society. The sweet farmer's daughter who takes care of a child that is not hers, helps out with chores, sings, reads the Bible, and hopes for summer picnics and birthdays (which in no way is a bad thing, I love that side of Beth!). Now she has encountered Grady, a place that was from the appearance like the old world and Beth was believed to fit in - so is Alexandria. How does she handle the constant shift of what she's supposed to believe the world is? Is it like Grady? The road from Atlanta to D.C.? Or is it like Alexandria? Could it be like all three or could Alexandria be just another “false” hope? 

To sum up, the Trauma of being taken out of one surrounding and what you believe the world is like and being put in another with different rules and she has no idea how to navigate them since she does not know them and does not have any protection from her family being there. (Grady's system of running things is so vastly different from the Prison, also let's call Grady's system what it is: Slavery. They kidnap people and make them work “work of what you owe and then you can leave” “I haven't seen it work like that”) 

Now to the people: Beth has experienced different kinds of traumas with the people in Grady. 

Gaslighting (“you were alone, we saved you, you owe us, you are not strong,...”) 

Physical abuse (Dawn hitting her, her scars on her face, bruising, a cast on her arm) 

Mental abuse (the doctor making her kill someone and then claiming she messed up (also falls into the category of gaslighting, having to rely on the same doctor to not get SAd by Gorman)) 

Sexual abuse (that is mostly the female experience. He is in charge therefore in a position of power, he is older, and she is just a weak young woman) the abuse was: the fear of it happening, the lollipop incident (yes that is a traumatic event), the constant watching from Gorman, how trivialize it is by the police officers “laughed about the poor girl getting raped”, the top person in charge does nothing to stop it (“ you know what is happening here and you let it happen”), and then the SA in Dawn's office) 

How is it that we never get to see this female struggle? This (more often) female fear and trauma? Michonne and Andrea traveled alone, but this fear never comes up. We have one mention of an incident where Randell tells the story of the two teenage girls. But honestly my biggest fear in this world would be traveling alone as a woman and encountering men. It is already bad nowadays. Can you imagine this in an Apocalypse? 

So why do we ignore this very real fear women face? Why do we kill the one character who actually has a storyline, who focuses on this female fear and female trauma, without any connection to a man or the typical motherhood storyline TWD does? 

Why not show that this was ACTUALLY traumatic. Since we even see Beth smile at Dawn after getting SA, killing him, and then leaving the office to go escape? I am glad Beth could put on a smile so Dawn wouldn't know but why do we never see Beth scared, look around her, keep an eye on the door while she sleeps, even trying to lock the door in some way so no one can get in while she sleeps. Why do we not see a far away look when she is trying to first process what happened. There are soo many trauma responses, and everyone is valid in the way they respond to trauma. So why do we not take trauma into account in female storyline? This is my biggest issue with TWD. Lori got one scene of her crying after Shane SAd her and then it was back to the love triangle (which is absolutely disgusting). Why did Rosita not get to be angry with Eugene like Abraham? There are so many storylines even when the woman is involved that focuses on the male response instead. 

Let Beth be human, with human responses and more than just another dead girl. Show me how she would cope with her personal space being violated, the perception of personhood being breached. Could she react aggressively when Eugene makes a socially inappropriate comment. Would she be tense, nervous, keep an eye out for him? How about Abraham's imposing statue? What about men in Alexandria? Could she struggle socializing with men? Keeping to the people she knows and clinging to the safety they once represented to her like Glenn, Rick, Carl and Daryl. They are the men that never did anything to her. Or could she even pull away there and struggle to come to terms that they are safe but also men. And men had not been safe for women in Grady. 

How could Beth respond to Deanna knowing how Dawn presented herself. Would she be uneasy? Would she be able to tell that Deanna is not like Dawn since she knows the signs of a bad leader because of Dawn. 

I am just mad how we ignore this big (and unique to TWD) storyline of a young woman witnessing her father get beheaded, her home destroyed, her relationship with Daryl, her kidnapping, enslavement, physical/mental/sexual abuse? All that just to further other people's storylines for a couple of episodes just to forget about Beth after that.

What do you think? Comment below

[into-the-hellaverse]

Lucifer and Adam's Good Day

Final part of the Bad Day series!

Before we get to the fic, I wanna thank lilacwriter07, hellojenpenworld, inubaki, and libby-for-life (not tagged cause idk how y'all feel about being tagged in random fics). Libby started this with a commission and Lilac, jenpen, and inubaki kinda kept spurring it on with their kind words and encouragement. Y'all shouldn't have done that XD If you do that, you get a happy giddy mess that's lowkey over the top and filled with typos.

But still, thanks to you guys I did something I never thought I could do. Finish writing something. I always wanted to write a fic series, and it's my dream to be a published author, but I never actually got myself to sit down and write long enough to actually complete something. So, thank you. You guys are some of the kindest people I've met.

Sorry to get sentimental on y'all. Now, let's give Adam and Luci a happy ending :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He practiced everything on the way over here. What to say, how to act, and he even scouted out a quiet place for him and Adam to go. He just had to execute this. Perfectly.

He took a deep breath and walked up the small staircase to the mansion's entrance, giving a few quick, sharp knocks.

"ADAM! GET OFF YOU LAZY ASS AND ANSWER THE DOOR!" Mammon's voice carried really well. There was some running around and Adam opened the front door.

"Hi..." Adam whispered, smiling softly. "I started losing hope..."

"I'm sorry, it took a little longer than expected..." Lucifer said softly, cupping Adam's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great, now that you're here..."

Lucifer smiled, quickly dropping it once he noticed the scarf wrapped tightly around Adam's neck. "What happened?"

"I'd...rather not talk about it..."

Lucifer nodded softly.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?!"

Adam pushed his hand away and turned into the house. "ITS LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"IT'S THE KING OF HELL! GET OVER HERE!"

Lucifer had never seen Mammon move that fast. He was at the front door in a matter of seconds, a scowl on his face. "The fuck you want, you walking asshole?"

Now to put the plan in action. He gave a big, nervous smile and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, so I had to have a meeting with Sera, and she found out that Adam isn't up in Pride anymore. And, you know Sera. She through a bitch fit and demanded Adam gets put back where he belongs."

"He's not going back with you," Mammon growled.

Lucifer held up his hands defensively. "I know! Believe me, I don't want him in my Ring! But if he's not there, then Sera might wreck havoc and..." Crap what was he gonna say?! He practiced this 20 times! "Destroy all of Hell..." That wasn't what he was supposed to say.

Mammon raised a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Now he had to commit. "I mean, you know Sera. Takes the smallest thing and blows them out of proportion."

Mammon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Bitch still hasn't changed a bit, huh?"

Yes, he bought it! "Sadly, no. So, I just need to take Adam for a month or two back to my Ring. Once Sera calms down, I'll talk to her and make her realize that it's better if he's down her with you. Sound good?"

Mammon sighed. He was obviously pissed off and hesitant. "Just a couple of months?"

"And he'll be all yours," Lucifer said with a smile. "Forever and ever..."

Mammon rolled his eyes. "You better fix it. Quick." He turned to Adam. "Go get your shit. You're going to stay with Lucifer for a while." He shut the door in Lucifer's face.

Lucifer let out a hefty sigh, feeling his heartbeat slow down as panic subsided. Thank God, he bought it...

Adam left a few minutes later, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and gripping his guitar case with a death grip. He raced down the steps and Lucifer ran after him, trying to keep his pace as they left the mansion grounds.

"I thought you said I wouldn't have to go back," Adam said softly.

"You won't. Follow me." Lucifer walked the dirty streets of Greed, holding Adam's hand and leading him along until he found a quiet alley way. He led him deep, until they couldn't see the road.

"What are we doing down here?" Adam asked nervously.

"We just need some privacy." Lucifer let go of his hand and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

Adam stared at him, shocked and confused. "Is that..."

"A Luciferian crystal." He paused, watching Adam intensely. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not gonna take this from you. This is yours to keep, Adam. I just need to show you how to use it, then it's all yours. I won't take it back. I promise."

Adam nodded. Although from the look on his face, you could tell he didn't believe him.

Lucifer put it on. "It's really simple, actually." He turned around and held up the crystal, looking back to make sure Adam was watching. "All you have to do is think about where you want to go and draw a pentagram." He used the tip of his nail to draw a pentagram on the flat surface of the crystal, watching the bight red lines etching their way into the crystal. When he finished, a portal opened up to Gluttony, right outside Bee's mansion.

"That's Gluttony," Lucifer explained as Adam stared in awe. "Bee has really good parties."

Adam didn't say anything.

Lucifer started getting uncomfortable. "If you want to get rid of the portal, all you gotta do is wipe it away." He made sure Adam was watching and he wiped the pentagram off the crystal, and the portal closed in the blink of an eye. "And that's just how it is. Think of where you wanna go, draw the pentagram, and wipe it away once you pass through." He took off the crystal and held it out to Adam, but he didn't grab it.

"Adam..." Lucifer gently took his hand and placed the crystal in it. "I'm not going to take it from you. I genuinely want you to have this."

"Why?" Adam asked, looking confused.

"Because after everything I did, after everything I said to you... This is the least I can do..."

Adam still seemed nervous and hesitant, but he gave him a smile.

Lucifer smiled back gently. "Can I show you one more thing?"

"Sure..."

"I was able to set up a spawn point or homing beacon of sorts on the crystal." Lucifer gently opened his hand, showing the flat surface of the crystal. "If you're ever running around the Rings and you need a place you know is safe, just think about home and draw the pentagram." He drew it for Adam and watched a portal open up into a red room.

Adam just stared, like he didn't want to believe this was real.

"It's safe. Trust me." As if to prove a point, Lucifer fell backwards into the portal and landed on the hard ground on the other side. Adam just stepped through, looking around cautiously.

Lucifer quickly jumped to his feet and carefully wiped away the pentagram. "Don't forget to do that. You don't know who will follow you through."

"Got it," Adam said, gripping the crystal tightly when he was done. "So... Where are we?"

"At my palace. I have a bunch of spare rooms, more than what I know to do with. So I turned one into a guest room for you," Lucifer said. "If you're ever scared, if you need a place to stay that you know is safe, or if you just need a break, then you can come here and stay as long as you want. I won't touch anything in here, I won't mess with any of your stuff. You can use any of the palace amenities, and I won't ask you to do anything while you're here." He watched Adam examine the bare room closely, as if he was looking for something. "Sorry if it's not that flashy. I thought it would be better if you decorated it since-"

"What's the catch?" Adam cut him off.

"Huh?" Lucifer looked confused.

"What's the catch?" Adam repeated. "There has to be some kind of catch."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean? There is no catch." Lucifer looked just as confused as Adam.

"You can't be this nice just because. There's something in it for you."

Lucifer sighed softly. "Adam. Trust me when I saw this. I don't want anything from you. I just want you to be safe."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you. More than I probably should... After everything you went through, you need a place that you know is safe, and the only place I thought of was here. And with the crystal, you can go anywhere you want in Hell at a moments notice. It's not exactly the freedom you had up in Heaven, but it's close enough, right?"

Adam said nothing, his expression unreadable as he looked away from Lucifer and down at the pure white crystal in his hands.

"I'll let you get settled in...." Lucifer turned and left the room. He walked down the quiet halls, but it felt different than before. Just having Adam here, it made his home feel warmer. It made Lucifer feel calm. I mean, Adam was probably never going to use the room, but just the idea that he could be here anytime... It made him smile.

He heard a gentle knock as he passed by the front door. Confused, he went over and opened it a crack to see who it was.

"Charlie?" He asked, swinging the door wide open. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I stay with you for a while?" She asked as she sobbed.

"Of course, baby! Come in, I'll get you bags." He gently ushered her inside and grabbed the few bags she brought, leading her up to her old bedroom. She was silent, except for the occasional sob, sitting on her bed while Lucifer started to unpack some of her clothes and belongings.

The silence was eating him up. Charlie was rarely ever like this. And judging from the puffy eyes, she had been crying for days. He carefully sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"What happened, duckling?" He asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Charlie started cry harder than ever. "I don't know, Dad! I don't know why I've been acting like this! Everything was going so well with the hotel and Adam then Cameron came around and started framing Adam and I just got so mad and everything went out of control and Vaggie left and I kicked you out and Angel ran away and Alastor left and if Alastor leaves then Husk and Nifty leave too and I was all alone and I just couldn't take it! I'm a failure!"

"Charlie, sweetie, you're not a failure," he said, pulling her closer. "You're just.... Maybe you like Lilith."

"H-Huh?" She wiped her eyes, smearing days-old makeup on her face.

"I mean, you know I have some form of anxiety, and I passed that onto you. Your mother never really showed it, but she had some kind of mood disorder. I wanna say she was bipolar, but I'm not a doctor so I can't diagnose."

"Am I broken?"

"No, no, Charlie. You're not broken," he said reassuringly. "You just need some help. You still have that human disguise, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Wonderful. I'll get an appointment set up and I can take you up to Earth so you can get a diagnosis from a good, trusted doctor, and some good meds to help. Not the shit that Belle has. Maybe set you up with a therapist, too."

Charlie seemed to calm down at that. "I thought you couldn't go to Earth..."

"Charlotte, I'm the King of Hell. I can fo whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want. If I want to go up to Earth to help my daughter, I will." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Get some rest, duckling. I'll make your favorite tonight."

Charlie smiled and hugged him. "You're the best, Dad... I'm sorry for kicking you out..."

Lucifer hugged back tightly. "You had every right to, Charlie. I promised you I would never take them again and I broke that promise."

"You just needed help," Charlie tried to reason.

"And I could've gone somewhere else for that help. I didn't have to go to Auntie Belle." He kissed her forehead and pulled away. "Now get some rest. Seriously. You look exhausted."

Charlie gave him a weak smile and laid down on her bed, easily succumbing to sleep.

Lucifer just smiled and left the room. Finally, after all the shit of the past year, things finally started looking up...

This may be the conclusion of the Bad Day Arc (if you wanna call it that) but not the end of the story! There will be more fics around this storyline, that I shall not reveal because I wanna be a sneaky bitch :3 Mostly, I'm writing it for me, because I will take every excuse to shove my ocs where they don't belong (and none of the previous characters were ocs. I just asked friends to name them for one-off jokes and shit). I will shove my ocs into there like shoving a square into a circle hole

[chansakura]

“Well, back when I was young, I… wasn’t exactly living the dream as a teenager. I had to focus on other things that I didn’t really get to choose — and that’s what kept me busy.”

Sakura spoke nothing but the truth. She never got the chance to live like the others. Sure, she had a crush here and there, usually on boys from distant parts of the realm, but that was about it. Now, with her freedom finally in her hands, she’s ready to chase everything she missed out on — including the thrill of having her past lovers explore every inch of her.

“But hey, I did have a wet dream once. That counts, right? It’s gotta count.”

She took the shot anyway, the warmth sliding down her throat. Her vision was already starting to blur, but her mind was still sharp enough to keep talking.

“My demon form? Super basic. I got the horns, sure, but all I really have are white and red eyes, some creepy veins on my face and arms, sharp teeth and tongue, and I grow a few inches taller. That’s it.”

Completely drawn in by the sight of his fangs, she slid herself even closer to him, eyes locked on the teeth he flashed her. Pretty much the same as hers — and for some reason, that made her smile.

Not afraid - @chansakura - Finn x Sakura *CLOSED RP*

The alleyway reeked of damp asphalt and old blood, a scent Finn had grown accustomed to. He leaned against the brick wall, one boot pressed casually against it, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was tired and desperately needed a shower. A job had gone sideways tonight. The mark wasn’t where they were supposed to be, and now Finn was stuck waiting, calculating his next move. But then there it was. A shift in the air. Someone was watching. His fingers twitched toward the knife hidden beneath his coat. "If you're gonna stand there like a damn ghost, you might as well step into the light," he muttered, voice low, edged with amusement. Was it a threat? A client? Or just another poor soul who didn’t know better than to get too close? It didn't matter, someone was there and he had to see if they were going to be trouble or not.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

As much as the Inspector puts his/her ego on display,

the Sergeant goes out of his/her way to put him to shame by overexerting his/her own ego, going so far as to claim to have conquered the cosmos more than twice.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Harry Kim saying Naomi is lucky to be born on Voyager and that he would have given "anything" to have her life when he was a kid...

[dreamsicle262]

if the reading comprehension of some people who do make dead plate text posts is so bad (as i've had at least two people tell me in the tags) then maybe i SHOULD start analyzing every little detail in the game.

[maryjanewatsonparkers]

Laurel hated that her life was a mess and falling apart while Grant's life was perfect and everything he had dreamed of. The fact that she was falling apart in front of him made things even worse. It was like rubbing salt on an open wound that Laurel did her best to mend. She truly could never catch a break could she? Laurel scoffed when he said he was just trying to be a decent human being. The blonde shook her head. "You? Decent? Since when exactly?" she asked him skeptically. Decent was not in Grant's vocabulary nor was it something he was familiar with, not after everything he had done to her. Especially when he went out of his way to request her a second time to be his reporter like she was some kind of lap dog. What was even the point of it? He made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, yet here he was requesting her. It was something Laurel couldn't wrap her head around. Laurel tensed when Grant admitted that he was going to have his assistant check in on her. "I'm not going to pick up," she said stubbornly and narrowed her eyes at him. "Once you let me go, I promise you, you will never hear from me again nor will you ever know anything about me. We're through after this. You do not get to destroy my life and expect to know anything about it afterwards." Laurel hated the fact that Grant thought he had a right to her life or that he had any kind say in what he was allowed to know. She laughed bitterly when he called what he had done a mistake, the simplicity of it making her bitter and angry. "A mistake?" she asked. "You think harassing my boss and requesting me again after our history was a oversight for you? After everything, why did you even think it was a smart idea trying to get me to do a fucking puff piece on you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

Grant scoffed mid chew at her snide remark. He really didn’t expect anything less than the way that she was treating him. After their divorce, it was silence between them. It was like the two of them were complete strangers. Did Grant ever stop to think about Laurel on occasions? Yeah, he did. He’d be lying if he said he never did. They were together for a long time and he had loved her. But he never really imagined what it would be like if the two of them ever came face to face with one another again. In his eyes, it was something that had been out of the realm of possibilities. Boy had he been wrong. But living it now, he wasn’t surprised at her demeanor towards him or the tension between them. Especially given how he had left things with her. What he had found shocking was that he had been able to reduce her to a state like this. He figured that, no matter how anger and hurt she’d been at him, she would have tried to forget him. He didn’t imagine that drinking would be the way that she’d try. Washing down the food with some water, he simply nodded to himself, opting to not say anything in response. He deserved it in the end, he knew. And right now, he was just focused on making sure she’ll be alright. The last thing he wanted was her to go back on a drinking binge and end up seriously hurting herself. They were divorced, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring for her. Setting down his food, he sighed and looked over at his ex-wife. “Who said I think of you as some pet? I’m just trying to be a decent human being and make sure you don’t go off and do something stupid. After this, you don’t have to see me ever again, but for now, you do. Because you’re not leaving my sight until you’re on a plane going home. That’s it. That’s all I want from you. I’m not gonna call you up next week and hang this over your head. I’m not gonna call you up at all. Will I have my assistant check up on you in a few days? Maybe. Sure. Sorry that I have my concerns. But that’s all this is, Laurel. I’m not some evil mastermind looking for a way to get you under my clutches. Believe me, this was a mistake and I won’t make it again.”

[thoughtpeek]

I'VE FINALLY FINISHED BROTHERSHIP IT WAS SOOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!

[ichigosoju]

🌷

[screampied]

#OOHMAMI! g. suguru

☆ sum. cuban link, diamond cross—you’re a big fan of suguru geto, the top street racer in tokyo. he doesn’t wanna win any more races, he wants to win you this time. keep at it and he might have to fuck you on the highway.

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, suguru has a (dick) piercing / tats, semi-public, riding, brief ōral (f! receiving), you get eaten out his window lol, overstim, dirty talk, praise, size kink, impact play, petnames, drive safe, continuation here :)

an. chase atlantic inspired me ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

“you, yeah you. wanna ride?”

stop thinking dirty, stop thinking dir—

you stop dead in your tracks, hearing the deafening vrooming of a certain nissan skyline gtr along with a raspy deep voice. you knew that voice, in fact you’d be a fool not to recognize the voice of the suguru geto, infamous street racer who’s won more races around the world than you could count. he’s got a big hand on the steering wheel with his dark purple helmet cracked open. growing pathetically sheepish, you could barely get any words out before you start to feel your feet gradually dragging toward his rumbling car.

“really?” you mumble, barely even pressed up against his tinted window and you could smell his loud rich cologne from there. you couldn’t help but fangirl—and oh, did he look so much better in person. geto’s got pretty long tresses of black hair that’s usually down, but in every race it’s always pinned back. a few loose strands run down his face, peeking out of his helmet and his glove grips tightly against his bedazzled steering wheel that had ‘s. geto’ carved into the material as it flawlessly spiraled around the wheel.

“reaaally,” he tauntingly repeats your word, cocking his head to get a better look at you. you could smell the thick puffed smoke that weeps out of his silvery flashy tailpipes and he hums. slouching back against his seat manspread, his foot eases off from the break and you watch as the flashy racer’s seat flies open on its on, and you step in. “i take it you’re here to see the race?”

no, no you weren’t.

you couldn’t lie to yourself—you were here to see the race, but you were to here to see geto also. you’ve only seen him during his interviews, magazines, and sometimes on tv where his races would be broadcasted for the entire world to see.

but, you managed to snag enough money to actually see him in the flesh.

without a second thought you make your way inside. on the inside, you were screaming. you were currently living every one of his fangirl’s dream. immediately once you sit down, you’re surrounded by the balmy welcoming warmth of his beloved str. you assumed it was an older model but he made it work anyway — it had cushioned seats with blaring speakers and oh, the smell . . it’s almost as if the vehicle had a signature cologne scent of its self. it’s really masculine and it makes your thighs squeeze together once you recline back a bit. his seats warmed up your backside automatically and you glance around the rest of the car, taking in its glitzy beauty.

it’s pretty, you’ve only seen pictures. ogling near his rear view mirror, you see fuzzy dice dangling as he’s adjusting it. the rest of the cars usually gathered near the meet up spot before the race actually starts.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?” geto snickers, noticing you gawking at the inside of his car.

indeed, you heard about how geto built this entire thing from scratch. before doing street racing as a little side hustling hobby, he used to be a mechanic. a well known one, but that wasn’t as fun as actually racing.

geto tosses an arm behind the head rest of your seat, preparing to go in reverse. “had her for about two years. haven’t lose a match, since.”

“not one?” you murmur, wanting to call his bluff. sure, you’ve never seen anyone covering him losing a match but that was a bit hard to believe.

“doubtin’ me, sweetheart?” he rasps, and you feel the rough jittering of the car. geto’s backing up safely, curving his wheel briefly to drive out of one of his many garages.

sweetheart, you don’t know why but that single pet name had you feeling hot for a moment. once your eyes dart back toward him for a split second, you spot a toothpick sticking out from the corner of his crooked lips. he’s so pretty — he’s got a natural smirk that’s tugging against the corners of his lips. as he starts to drive toward the starting point for the highly anticipated race, a gloved thumb taps against his furry steering glimmering wheel. with a low hum, he glances at you. “seatbelt, silly girl.”

shit, you snap on your seat belt moments later and notice even his signature’s all over his seatbelt covers. ‘suguru geto’ in bright bold letters.

drafty air wafts against your skin as he’s still creating distance with just a few miles. once he reaches near the starting line, you hear his foot tapping against the break.

one, two, three . . three, two, one . . he’s bored.

geto positions his rear view mirror for the millionth time before noticing you zeroing your eyes at his gear shift that glistens from the dozens of rhinestones that glue against the cover. countless diamonds stick up and down the leather skin of the handle and it’s so pretty.

“hold on, sweetheart,” geto purrs, his eyes slowly locking onto the flagger that’s stood in front of the row of cars.

geto’s still got a firm hand gripped onto his wheel, his right foot just barely hovering over the gas. come on, he just wanted to get it over with. you could almost smell the competitiveness dripping from his body.

it was intense, you could almost feel the anticipation as if you were in the driver’s seat. the tall woman that’s dressed in nothing but sheer black carries a hefty checked flag, swaying it in the air every few seconds. as she safely spaces herself between the cars, she does it two more times and you realize it’s almost time for take off.

the cars that were lined up beside and next to geto start to rev their engines and so does he. it’s a roaring groan, and his rousing wheels burn into the hardened cement, his gold pipes coughing up clouds of purple smoke. geto gives his wheel one more tap with his thumb before glancing at you with a cunning grin. “lie back, i take off pretty fast, heh.”

and he wasn’t kidding.

the moment the flagger does a final up-down sway motion with the flag, all race cars accelerate quickly past the starting point. you sink back into the plushy seat as he meanly yanks back his stick shift.

his engine’s loud, and within seconds he’s already in the lead. it’s like he wasn’t even trying. frantic turbo spits through his rusted pipes and you can feel his car speedily pass through each poor vehicle that tries to get in his way.

vroooooom, he’s flying by each checkpoint and you could almost smell the adrenaline that’s coursing through his pulsating veins.

the thrill . .

you felt it all ghost through your own veins, feeling the frigid air roaming through his vents tickle against the hairs that stand up on your arms. geto makes a few sharp turns, keeping an eye on the time every so often. his personal best was around five minutes and seventy-seven seconds. with a coarse grip, he’s tilting his steering wheel while the thunder of his engine growls louder and louder within each whizzing mile.

over time though—you can’t help but be a bit nosy. your eyes shift toward the racer and god, you’re just now noticing how handsome he was.

geto usually wore sweats along with his street gear. he didn’t have to wear his helmet but he preferred it just in case. its all black with a splash of purple—you can see his signature lazily signed near the very top. outlined beside his name was a curling design of smoke. the part where he sees through was all darkly tinted so you could hardly see his face unless you squinted or he took it off.

it’s like it added more to his appeal in a way. he sat manspread and doing so, it gave you a one way ticket to stare straight down at his barely hidden bulge.

fuck, your mind started to ponder. you had so many unanswered questions. isn’t it painful driving around that hard—

“hey,” your raunchy thoughts get rudely interrupted and you don’t even realize how many minutes had passed from you being cooped up in your own lewd fantasm. geto’s driving a bit slower now, around sixty mph instead of his usual two hundred. he’s way in the lead, first place. one hand’s lazily on the steering wheel and he fakes a yawn.

oh he’s cocky.

with a quick glance out his mirror, he knew the other cars were far behind him and he now starts drifting near the freeway. with an intrigued hum, he notices just exactly what you were staring at. his lap. “don’t tell me this was the ride you thought i meant, sweetheart.”

“i—”

it’s like his cologne got louder.

you choked on your words, wondering if you were hearing right. suguru, the suguru geto was flirting with you?

and the thing that got you the most was that he wasn’t even looking at you anymore—every few seconds, you’d lock eyes against him near the ear view mirror, feeling hot once his eyes slowly rove down your figure through his dark tinted helmet.

not only was his cologne loud but so were your thoughts—shamelessly, you did think he was referring to that kind of ride minutes earlier.

and the more you stared at his hardened bulge through his grey sweats, the more you started to think. .

but, little did you know your dirty wish would be granted.

not even a few moment later, you’d find yourself fucked - literally.

geto positions you on his lap, halfway pulling down his loose sweats just so you could ride something else entirely.

instead of riding just his car — you rode his dick, and fuck was he just ridiculously big.

too big, and he knows it. geto groans once he’s buried full inside, lodging his thick cock in between your slimy gummy walls. “shit,” he’d hiss, his head occasionally tossing back once the ring piercing that’s stuck on his tip tap tap tap’s away against your precious g-spot. it swirls all around the inside of your cunt and your thighs struggled to stay open. it tickles, but you were far from laughing. he’s so big, easily rearranging your insides and be barely even had to move a muscle.

he’s ruthless - but your hips were even more ruthless though, far more.

geto knew all too well that this was dangerous—just one swerve from the swerving stimulation of bodies smacking against his and game fucking over.

you moan, burying your face into his neck as your hips continue to move against him. he’s still burning gas as your cunt’s just merrily drooling all down his length from each slapping thrust.

belatedly, your brows furrow, almost forgetting why you even showed up to this event. well, part of why you came. “f- fuck, what about t- the race?” you speak in a breathy tone, your tempo becoming more and more relentless. the salaciously enticing jerk of your unsteady hips gradually turn into rough unstable bounces and he kisses his teeth. geto feels the convulsing veins that run down his cock pulse right through him and between your walls, you feel it too.

“oh, sweetheart,” he huffs, his back of his helmet hitting against his headrest. looking at you with hazy hooded eyes, he flashes you a sleazy grin. “technically, i already won,” and you gasp, feeling him reach a gloved hand down between your rickety thighs. his touch was so gentle, you felt yourself shuddering from both twin digits that drag further down your chest. he cups one of your bouncing tits that pop out of your tank top, brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipple. “god, what a pretty fuckin’ body. look at you girl,” and he’s still got a hand on the steering wheel.

a trembling whimper dies out your throat at the feeling of his swollen fat cockhead vigorously thrusting in and out of your dribbling entrance.

you’re just so soaked. it’s like you can’t help but be sopping wet on his lap and he loves it. sloshes of sobs echo out of your pussy and your legs pathetically quaver directly on top of him.

both of you groan in complete unison and a big hand of his creeps further down, giving your ass a teasing squeeze. “fuuucck, reel those nasty hips. ride it baby, ride me, yeah,” and you hear the grumbling revs of his engine ring against your ears louder. it makes the entire car shake a bit despite him pushing down a few miles. with widened dewy eyes staring at the back of his car, you squint, seeing dozens of cars trying to catch up to geto.

they didn’t have a chance,

they looked like tiny splotching dots in the far distance. geto even had the audacity to not do his usual speed and yet he was still dusting the other racers.

typical.

“s- suguru,” you whine, the undersides of your thighs sticking against him. each time you bounced back on his cock, each ruthless ‘pap pap pap’ of your skin mashing against his and the clingy recoil never fails to leave you brain dead for a few seconds. he’s so thick. you swivel your hips around him, gasping every time his dick piercing scrapes against your clit. the cold material makes a good portion of your thighs quake and you can’t help but coo out a few sweet ‘ooh’ or ‘ah’s right next to the shell of his ear. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and he didn’t even bother taking them off.

yet.

“so fuckin’ big, shiiiit.” you’d whimper, trying to swerve your way all around him. he’s just too big, you were even surprised he fit. you had to go down slow, aligning yourself against him — every few seconds his cock would pop out of you, making that cute squelch sound that makes his suck his teeth in annoyance.

“mhm, ‘n you’re takin’ it so well. you’re a big girl, fuckin’ take it,” he rasps in a hushed tone, nipping a few teeth near the inside of your neck. his helmet along with his toothpick ends up falling near the side of his seat with a loud thud.

your hips were killer.

unlike any opponent he’s had to go up against. you’re happily squeezing around him like a vice, taking in his curved inches like a champ. “f- fuck, who taught you how ‘ta ride? heh, tryna give me a run for my money, hm pretty?”

your whiny moans only pitch louder once he grips a nice chunk of your ass with one hand, peering at his bedazzled dash. the speed was a bit over one fifty now but it didn’t even feel like it.

“ugh, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, growing more and more dumb the faster you bounced on his heavy throbbing cock. his peeling sack hangs from underneath and he’s so swollen, you feel it.

maddened angry balls entirely reddened and puffed up from the delicious stimulation. with every sharp pull of your hips bouncing up and down, he feels himself shriveling — he’s so sensitive inside of you, and he can almost taste his own pleasure. whilst you continue to twirl your ass around in rotation for him, you couldn’t help but shamelessly salivate at the thought of imagining just how full he might be.

“sugu—fuuuckk,” and a bead of sweat races down the side of your face. geto’s primarily focusing on the road, it’s an easy straight shot and with how it was practically the middle of the night it wasn’t that many cars except for the one’s participating in the annual street races.

“bet you are. sloppy girl,” he huffs, groaning at the echoing loud smacks of your ass. you’re mercilessly clamping down his lap over and over, preparing to gush all over the dick that’s currently nestled inside of you. he’s got such a mouth watering curve of his cock that makes your stomach twist and churn.

the kind of curve that doesn’t involve his motor vehicle, that kind.

geto’s dick knew how to do swerves on its own, it even knew how to carve an entire bumpy race track allllll through your insides with his fat pink tip. “touch yourself, pretty. gimme a show before you mess up my fuckin’ seats.”

you could hear the sass in his voice along with a drip of vex and you’d giggle if you weren’t being ruthless stuffed full of inches. “o- okay,” you breathe through clenched teeth, guiding your hands up and down your body. geto’s dark eyes stare at you intently.

he stared at the way your hands caress your pretty plump tits, feeling down the valley of your exposed chest. his eyes flicker toward you then back at the road, then at you again - he repeats it, feeling his own muscles starting to tighten through his clothing. “ngh, suguru. can’t hold—”

your addictive slams against his cock got more intense until he’s fully buried balls deep inside of your squeezing cunt. you hear the saturated plops that’s squealing out of your pussy and you can’t even believe that’s you that’s sounding like that.

your poor sweet cunt was louder than his radio, completely shrieking over some random chorus of a heavy metal song you didn’t even know was playing in the background.

“fuck, cum then. cum on me, girl,” he grunts, one hand grabbing a nice fat piece of your ass again before spanking it.

you moan, the sharp brief twinge of elation sending you a shiver that immediately sends convulses between your thighs. lewd filthy thoughts foil at your brain and pretty soon, the car steams up with steamy clouded fog.

erratic sharp breaths match each other’s pace and you’re left breathless. geto feels your legs on the verge of giving out and he snickers, bringing a gloved hand to stroke against your sopping pussy. “go on, don’t be shy. should make ya lick up the mess later anyway.”

whimpering, your release comes and fuck, a sharp scream ripples out from your throat once you’re finally coming undone on his cock. the wrinkled skin of his base continues to stick against his sack due to you bouncing against him.

it’s hot, literally.

with both plush mounds of skin harshly plummeting on top of each other, the heat of the car made it feel like the air conditioner wasn’t even on. “thaaat’s it, work those hips, goddamn,” and abruptly, he cuts off from his words after feeling his mushroom tip reach a certain spongey spot that’s buried way inside of your gripping walls.

you gasp once you feel him throb inside with a soft upward shimmy of his hips. milliseconds later, your thighs collapse down on him and you feel yourself succumbing. you’re creaming down his shaft with your slippery slick while at the very same time, struggling to catch your breath. as you weakly try to continue your grinding with your feeble knees, geto uses a single hand to quickly make a detour.

he was close.

the race car makes a swift turn to the left lane, driving a few more miles before he then turns the opposite direction — pulling over safely. with a cooing skrrrrt, his rubber tires come to a cruising stop and geto groans, gripping at his tensing bouncing thigh with his glove. the finish line was just a few feet away but he could care less.

once he puts his car in park, geto falls back into his seat with own sable dark eyes flickering back to the very depths of his skull.

you rode him good, good to the point where he doesn’t even know what to say for a hot second. blinking twice, geto smears his glossed lips together before exhaling, “phew,” and he swats another palm against your ass. black unkempt strands of hair tape against the center of forehead like glue whilst he’s finally got a good grip on your hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too,” and your puffy folds continue to dribble with honeyed slick.

you’re damping his cock and the squelches you make, they were loud.

so wet and slimy. he could listen to it all day, just the sound of your sweet cunt whimpering out sweet sloshes of nothing. the overwhelming sensitivity leaves a sourly candied taste in your mouth and you whine, feeling him squeeze a hand against your right hip. with a raspy out of breath tone, he strokes a thumb underneath your quivering bottom lip. “ ‘s okay if i cum inside, pretty?”

“y- yeah, please,” you babble out in broken cries, feeling your tummy frantically heave in and out.

as he grabs your hips, steadying you—you intake a breath, remembering how many inches he was buried inside. your tummy tucks inward and you whimper, feeling him preparing to shoot pure blanks. with a size like his, geto’s cock never failed to leave its sloppy infamous mark.

you’re just marveled at how fat his tip is, it’s voluntarily french-kissing up against sweet beloved cervix that’s screaming out curses just as much as you. he’s got two hands on your veering hips, smooth fabric of his racing gloves sliding up and down your wobbly. with pouty compressed lips, you moan, bringing your hands to grab onto his shoulders. “cum, cum in me—fuck.”

geto huskily groans, tossing his head back once your hips zealously reel into him right as he gives you the final perfunctory thrust that finishes him off. immediately, he’s shooting out ribbons of hot cum that pour into you. you’re panting as he slows down, glossy eyes raking at his body. you could see a bit of his tatted sleeves peek from underneath his shirt - his tense muscles bulging.

“god, better take all of it,” he groans, pretty black lashes sticking against his droopy hooded sockets.

it spurts out slowly but surely.

globs and globs of frothy cum bubble down the swollen sides of his cock and you feel it all. it’s toasty and warm and as he’s pouring his all into you, painting your gummy walls his pristine-white color, you couldn’t help but lean in.

geto’s matching your breathy irregular pants before he feels your trembling lips crash onto his. “mmf,” he moans against your lips, tilting his head back slightly to a certain attractive degree. a hand of his reaches toward his radio, turning the middle notch all the way down just to hear the squelches of his own seed slobbering down your slick cunt.

he tastes sweet. you moan at the lingering taste of fresh cooling mint that lives on his tongue, feeling his hands tighten around your waist.

oh, he’s obsessed—

screw the race by this point, all he wanted at this moment was you.

geto’s still got such a large load that’s dumping into you raw and it even oozes down past your thighs, a few creamy droplets plopping down on his velvet seats. he grunts, both twisting tongues ferociously tangling against each other whilst your pussy’s still squeezing down on him like a vice. a glossed translucent ring forms around his base and he feels you trying to touch yourself with two curious fingers.

with a slight smack, he swats your hand away and you whine in his mouth. “heh, hands to yourself,” you pout because earlier he let you touch yourself but now, no. he teases, breaking away from the hot kiss. a stringy cobweb of saliva tears back from both lax plump lips before he playfully nibbles on your chin. geto notices how slumped out you were and a broad open hand of his crawls between your legs. “ooooh,” and he lifts you up from his swollen flaccid cock, gazing at just how much of a fill he’s pumped into you. “well look at that,” and you whimper, feeling him strum a thumb down your drooling cunt. “would be a shame if it all went to waste,” then he quirks a brow, sliding a tongue across his lips. “princess, stick your head out the window for me real quick.”

“out the wind—”

and not even seconds later, you find yourself literally being bent over, halfway hanging out of his rolled down tinted window. geto wasn’t done, at least not yet.

your sheeny glossed lips immediately part into an ‘o’ as a sweet gasp leaves your lips. with clammy hands, they grip onto the edge of his window and you whimper once he delves his long tongue inside of your cunt. your fingers gripped against the window so hard that it ends up leaving dozens of your cute fingerprints against the tinted glass.

“oh my goddd,” you babble out in elongated sweet syllables. with your pretty eyes bulging, you gasp at feeling the tip of his tongue swirl all around inside of you.

geto lowly grunts, lapping his twitching pink muscle down your runny folds back and forth. between your legs—he’s a menace, and it was no prying him off.

at all.

he doesn’t even bat an eye at the simple fact that he’s eating his own cum out of you, unapologetically savoring the bittersweet taste that lands right on his flavored tastebuds. your legs were so weak and you can feel his warm breath continuously fan against and on your sopping folds as he chuckles.

“my my, look at her. this prize’s way better than some money,” he hums, using a leather thumbed glove to swipe down your entrance. he’s slow, dragging it all the way down just to watch spurts of your slick pop onto his digit. you’re just so wet, metallic fingers of his ghost further down your clit before you whine. geto sees your cunt pulsing from the sheer thrill and he snickers, smacking a palm right against your slobbering core. “she’s fuckin’ nasty today, yeah?” and his eyes flicker toward your drooling cunt, giving it a teasing suck. “mmph, listen to her with me, gorgeous,” and one spank against your pussy turns into one, then two, then three.

growing quiet, you listen to the weeping sounds purring out of your own cunt. so loud, so shamelessly loud. you could hear it and he barely even had to touch you. you’re drenching up his seats and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, feeling your heart pound ruthlessly out your chest. his tongue knew just where to go—it’s creating a path of its own, laying flat against your clit before sucking against every tender spot. your legs were on its final hinges. you felt like they were about to snap shut. you’re staring out the window, still not seeing any cars which was good.

if anyone saw you like this, being eaten out in this kind of position, you don’t know what would happen.

geto resumes to flick his long tongue down your swollen slit, lapping up the last few droplets of his own cum that tries to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. another final swat from his mean palm sets against your clit and you let off a cute squeal, your tummy instinctively caving in. “so much back talk from a pussy this fuckin’ sloppy. oughta teach it some manners, pretty girl,” he grumbles, and your eyes blissfully roll back once you hear him starting to sluuuurp.

geto had no shame — it was decided, this was far better than any race he’s ever had.

his teeth nip near the inside corners of your thighs before he trails back to munching on your clit, burying his nose deep. “mhm,” he groans, and it only takes a few seconds before his jaw finally locks. geto reaches down, giving his cock a few solid pumps. his pretty reddened tip was angry, it still had dried spurts of cum racing from the sides and he grunts at the memory of being inside of you only just a few minutes ago. whilst his face’s shoved right between your thighs—you don’t even realize you’re trying to reach back to grab onto his hair. you’re hesitant though, and he finds it cute. departing his wet slick lips briefly, a wry grin spreads against his lips. “kinky,” the dark haired man flicks a tongue across his lips, savoring your juices that smeared against his mouth. “don’t be shy. do it,” and you moan once he teasingly whistles against your pussy, kissing against your nub. “pull my hair girl. pull.”

you give it a good yank and his head pushes forward into you—geto’s lengthy tongue dips further inside your cunt and you whimper, gnawing the inside of your stiff jaw. “fuck,” you gasp, and as his tongue gradually curls various bubbly letters inside of your pussy.

it multitasks, continuing to send your entire body a plethora of fluttering butterflies. he was so sloppy, seeping from the corners of his mouth with your slick and just your slick. his head moving side to side eagerly and every few seconds, he’s got to flick away long shaggy strands of his hair. geto’s proudly devouring you entirely whilst you’re just literally hanging out his window.

“oh, come on. harder, sweetheart. even i can do better than tha—ngh.”

with more force, you tug roughly on his pretty black strands and you heard the most sluttiest moan pour from his lips. god, he was so close that you could literally feel that infamous smug grin spread against his lips. geto brings a fat round thumb to run down your drooling cunt, giving it a ‘good job’ kiss. “atta girl. that’s my girl.”

geto ends up coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of over and over and over again.

he’s mean with his tongue, slurping everything out of you until you had no more - nothing more to coal his chin with. his favorite thing to do was to playfully bite against your clit, feeling you writhe and shiver all because of his mouth.

you end up leaving his entire chin with a pretty stream of your syrupy slick. geto’s panting, falling back after talking you through your nth orgasm, and with a peek through his rear view mirror, he spots the remaining race cars that were finally approaching the finish line.

“ah, about time,” geto rolls his eyes, sliding his lips near the corner of his chin where a bit more of your slick laid.

he acted like it was nothing, like he didn’t just have his tongue shoved inches deep inside of your cunt, stuffing his race gloved fingers in and out of you until you gushed right down his lengthy thick digits. you’re just sat on his lap, and you’re too dumb to move an inch. “heh, comfy?” he purrs, dragging his seatbelt across both stacked bodies. you fall against his chest, inhaling his signature manly scent and feel the car jolt once he puts it back in drive.

needy silence was your only reply and he tsks, resting his chin on top of your head before driving toward the finish line. it was barely even a few feet away, and waiting there was a bunch of fans that were awaiting to greet their new winner.

geto couldn’t care less though—he had you on his lap and he could already feel himself bulging again.

he found it cute how you were just clinging onto him now.

maybe you were delusional—maybe it was the fangirl in you screaming, begging for more, but your body wasn’t just begging anymore, it ached for more.

he drives you back toward the car meet up spot, helping you fix back your skirt. with wobbly legs, you step out of the flaunting vehicle with the help of his burly arms wrapped around you. “t- thank you,” you pant, trying to catch your breath, even still. geto stands up tall and he completely towers over you. you feel so small all of a sudden, watching as he puts his helmet back on.

“anything for a fan,” he coos, and he brushes a thumb against your lips. just a single gesture just as that felt so intimate. your eyes lock with his for a long moment, and just before you could say anything more, he mumbles. “oh, you probably want an autograph?”

your eyes light up and you grow sheepish, awkwardly tugging on the vip-checked lanyard that wraps around your throat. “yeah, please.”

“such manners like a good girl, cute,” and you bring out a magazine with his face plastered on it as a headline for this week’s up and coming races in tokyo. “nah,” he waves it away, and as your brow quirks, he takes out a sharpie. geto slides the cap in between his teeth before he glances at you. “pull your shirt down real quick, sweetheart,” and without a second thought, you tug down the hem of your shirt, barely exposing your chest.

geto’s eyes rove down your skin before he swiftly signs right against your left tit. the ink softly runs against your skin and you gasp, watching as he marks up the upper part of your chest. “aaaand, perfect,” he concludes, adding a ‘xo’ at the end of his signature. geto puts the cap back on and he flashes you a sly expression. “so i’ll see you at the next race?”

he starts walking away before you could even reply and you feel the weight of your shaky legs grow heavy. “y.. yeah,” and with dewy eyes, you watch as he steps in his car, playfully revving his engine at you.

the cool air sets against your skin once more as you stood there with shaky legs. the car meet slowly gets more crowded as the rest of the racers pass the finish line.

but, your brows furrow once you realize you felt a bit . . . empty between your legs.

with a soft gasp, you squint near the inside of geto’s car before he pulls off.

hanging over his rear view mirror instead of the fuzzy dice you once saw—was nothing other than your panties,

his real prize.

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.