#i do think they are in modern times though

[moontyger]

I've been meaning to reply to this for awhile and it's largely because I feel like functionally, the person above who said formality in English is dying is right. I have seen people claim that, for example, using honorifics when translating Japanese is bad translation and you can demonstrate the same thing in English. And I have never agreed. "Formal Japanese is like speaking to your boss" is something that I've heard a lot, but I don't really feel there's a huge difference in language in (US American) English. All right, so you don't say "fuck" or "shit" or that something "sucks." But how do you tell the difference between that and someone who simply doesn't use curse words? You can't. (And except for the times when I worked for medical doctors, I've always called my bosses by their first name and it would have stood out as unusual if I didn't.)

Like those 5 examples of formality levels above? So A is something you'll only see in written English. It's the language of things like wedding invitations, which have retained formal customs that are no longer used in other areas. If someone is actually speaking like that, I'm at a Ren Faire; this is not everyday language. No one speaks to their boss like this and if you did, it would stand out as very odd - so much so that you might even be spoken to about it because it would be assumed it was a deliberate affectation and possibly even mocking. (But if you're trying to represent the speech of a character who speaks archaic Japanese, it would work for that, but obviously that is not the same as merely formal.)

B is something you might hear, but it is still a little unusually stiff. It sounds like the person is uncomfortable more than they're being formal, like they're asking someone out on a first date. (Though I guess 'formal' is maybe meant to be 'I am terrified to speak to this person'? But I never got the impression that that's quite right.) People would notice if someone were speaking like this and probably flag it as a sign of nervousness, maybe social awkwardness if they did it all the time.

And E is just... do real people speak like this? (Also it's complicated, because if they do, I also feel like this language is not just informal, it's gendered male and coded as young, so maybe it's just a bad example because it's folded so many things into it beyond formality.)

As an aside: this is part of why I think kids are often still expected to use titles when adults aren't. Socially, the US is more hierarchical with children and expects formalities from them that are not expected of adults.

This leaves C and D as the quotidian examples. D is less formal, granted, but would I say it to my boss? Sure. (OK, I actually wouldn't, but that's because I've never called a meal "a bite" in my life. But "wanna grab lunch" seems fine. It doesn't strike me as inappropriate.) So I guess I feel like yes, technically all these levels of formality exist, but most of them are not actually used any longer, so if you're using them for translating contemporary people speaking, results may be very "real people don't talk like this."

Now maybe part of this is that I live in a very informal area of the country. Maybe in other regions they really are using B to speak to their boss. But it definitely isn't a universal thing such that I would feel it was something that could be said of "modern English" in general. (Also all the examples above as well as my perspective are very white, which is of course also a complication with modern spoken American English: there are real racial distinctions. So to some extent it is a hard language to generalize.)

Edit to Add: I also want to note here that this really has changed pretty quickly. People in the 1950s and 60s were much more formal than they are now and even somewhat more formal in the 1980s. You could definitely extrapolate something about politics and some people wanting more hierarchy (and freaking out about the lack of it) from a panic about the loss of formality in spoken language.

I'm so fascinated by languages with different levels of formality built in because it immediately introduces such complex social dynamics. The social distance between people is palpable when it's built right into the language, in a way it's not really palpable in English.

So for example. I speak Spanish, and i was taught to address everyone formally unless specifically invited otherwise. People explained to me that "usted" was formal, for use with strangers, bosses, and other people you respect or are distant from, while "tú" is used most often between family and good friends.

That's pretty straightforward, but it gets interesting when you see people using "tú" as a form of address for flirting with strangers, or for picking a fight or intimidating someone. In other languages I've sometimes heard people switch to formal address with partners, friends or family to show when they are upset. That's just so interesting! You're indicating social and emotional space and hierarchy just in the words you choose to address the other person as "you"!!

Not to mention the "what form of address should I use for you...?" conversation which, idk how other people feel about it, but to me it always felt awkward as heck, like a DTR but with someone you're only just becoming comfortable with. "You can use tú with me" always felt... Weirdly intimate? Like, i am comfortable around you, i consider you a friend. Like what a vulnerable thing to say to a person. (That's probably also just a function of how i was strictly told to use formal address when i was learning. Maybe others don't feel so weird about it?)

And if you aren't going to have a conversation about it and you're just going to switch, how do you know when? If you switch too soon it might feel overly familiar and pushy but if you don't switch soon enough you might seem cold??? It's so interesting.

Anyway. As an English-speaking American (even if i can speak a bit of Spanish), i feel like i just don't have a sense for social distance and hierarchy, really, simply because there isn't really language for it in my mother tongue. The fact that others can be keenly aware of that all the time just because they have words to describe it blows my mind!

[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Prologue (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

⭐This is a redo of my story, Shameful Attraction. I've rewritten it as I originally wanted so long ago. I was trying to write it to appease people and once I let go of that and just started to enjoy the story for itself, the flow became a lot better. For those who read it before, there are major changes you'll notice upon the next upload. For those who haven't read it at all before, I hope you enjoy. <3⭐

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to impliment real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger Warnings: This story has a lot of abuse in it. Reader is in an abusive relationship with her fiance, Toji. There are several moments in the story that highlight this including, but not limited to, acts of violence and aggression towards reader, including name calling, shoving, punching, sexual assault, being manipulated, unwanted bondage and containment, food denial, being drugged etc. Reader is thin, not allowed to eat a lot per Toji's rules in regards to her weight. If she feels like she is gaining weight, she will make herself throw up after meals. Reader also struggles through depression though often hides it through masking, however there are ocassional thoughts of suicide when some scenarios are too extreme to cope with. She's scared to leave, assumes she could never get away, so just deals with it all as she doesn't know what else to do. Wordcount: 2k+

Prologue

Present Day ~ Friday, 10:23 PM

It was happening again. There was nothing you could do to stop it. No amount of shame or fear could keep you from hiding in the bathroom at 10:23 PM, your thumb hovering over the open message icon on your phone. You knew who it was, the person you desperately craved.

The sender's name was your best friend and coworker, Yuna.

You always talked to Yuna; sometimes you even stayed with her after work was over in the affluent area of Tokyo, Roppongi Hills. There were even the rare times you'd stay overnight after work because you felt like you couldn't see each other long enough. At least, it's who your fiancé thought you were talking to and seeing. If he ever found out otherwise, well, you weren't sure you even wanted to think about what might happen.

Toji would get annoyed at you for wanting to talk so much with one of your friends, and he always demanded to know what you two did or talked about all the time, which you offered very detailed lies in response to his questions. It's not like you came to these decisions lightly. You stuck it out faithfully for almost seven years before giving up and needing someone else to make you feel like a beautiful and worthy woman again. To know someone else could appreciate you and offer excitement in your life. To not hit or yell at for everything was a huge plus also. Even if it was only temporary. Even if they didn't care about you in the same way you cared for them, you still needed whatever you could get.

Listening carefully in the silence of the night, you could still hear Toji snoring from your tiny, shared bed down the hall, and finally, your shaking thumb pressed onto the screen, closing your eyes as you felt the little bzzt of the message opening.

Swallowing tightly before accepting the message visually, you peeked an eye open and felt your face flush with a tingling heat that traveled down into your core, making your thighs squeeze together tightly as you sat on the edge of the tub, breath hitching at the photo and caption that now had you uncontrollably mesmerized.

Clicking the lock button on the side of your phone you dropped it down onto the soft rug below, your shaking hands now covering your face before going through your hair and you let out a long quiet breath.

Your heart pounded with the image in your mind, and what usually happened after you got one of these messages, there was no stopping it, and you hoped it never would.

Finally calming your nerves at the moment, you picked your phone back up, only to have that heated chill drop to your stomach again as there was another message to open now. Biting your lip, you opened it and at this point, you could nearly hear your own elevated heartbeat.

-"Aren't you going to answer me, doll? I know you're still awake."-

You covered your mouth with your free hand to try and quiet the excited breaths escaping your mouth, scrolling up slowly to review the previous message.

-"I know it's late, and to be honest, I really don't care. I want you here, need you beneath me in my bed where you know you belong. Letting a real man fuck you. You know he can't make you feel like I can." Photo attached: It was of that enormous bulge desperately trying to push through dark sweatpants that were loosely tied at the hip, shirt lifted and held up by sharp canines to show off that ridiculously built body, and sinful black tattoos that hugged the skin.-

Damn him. A quiet whine churned in your throat as your thighs clenched together more tightly in that shameful desire. He was right though. Toji could never fuck you as good as Sukuna. It was so embarrassing. Embarrassing how easy it was for Sukuna to turn you completely limp in his arms, and how quickly you'd lose yourself beneath him. Embarrassing because of how loud and lewd your moans were. Embarrassing because of how much you wanted this arrogant playboy.

Knowing another message would come through if you didn't reply, you quickly responded with the only thing you could think of at the moment, being so flustered and already getting dumb over dick through a teasing photo. -"I still have that report I have to finish this weekend, I don't think you'd be too happy if I don't complete it by Monday, Sukuna."-

As soon as you sent the message, it was as if there was an answer already waiting, and your phone almost immediately vibrated in response. -"Just stay the whole weekend with me, I don't even care anymore at this point. You can finish that here after I'm finished with you. I've already transferred the train ticket vouchers to you. The last one leaves at 10:51 pm. I'll pick you up at the station when you arrive. Just don't keep me waiting, my pretty, little thing."-

Running a hand over your forehead that felt a bit damp from nervousness, you shoved your phone into your pocket and let out a quiet but heavy breath. Having an affair with your boss was undoubtedly making you the happiest you've felt in years, but still, at the same time, it made you so frightened and ashamed. Especially since it felt like you were getting more attached to him, though you knew Sukuna wasn't looking for a serious relationship of any kind. He had made that perfectly clear. Painfully clear. You weren't the only woman in his life that he entertained, and you knew you wouldn't be the last. You were just fortunate to have his attention, for now.

He certainly knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the world though, despite knowing you were just sharing him. At least he kept his wandering eyes and flirtatious comments under check when the two of you were spending time together. Meanwhile, Toji acted like the biggest flirt in the world with every woman he encountered, even with you at his side.

Toji could be so gentle and loving when he wanted to be, but it never lasted long, and it was only when he was rewarding you for properly behaving. There'd always be something to set him off or some woman nearby he couldn't keep his eyes off of. You were certain he had been sleeping with other women for years, the way he acted around some of them proved it. Despite your supsicions, you had stayed faithful and loyal. Even through the beatings and constant derogatory things he called you. You weren't sure if it was because you had morals, or because you were terrified of him.

So long as you were obedient like a trained dog, Toji wouldn't hurt you. Mentally or physically. Most of the time you were too frightened to fall out of line, knowing how easily he could knock you out, or break an arm; something he's done before in a fit of drunken rage. He definitely scared the shit out of you, and cheating or lying like this was enough to make you shake in fear for your safety.

But, Sukuna never asked you to officially stay for several days like this at his own home. Sure, you've taken work trips together, but even though you gave yourself to Sukuna in any way he wanted, most of those were strictly professional and work related. So, as terrified as you were of your fiancé finding out, you couldn't pass up this type of opportunity. Maybe Sukuna was getting more attached to you as well? 

"I have no desire for a relationship of any kind beyond this. Don't get any hopes or ideas, I simply enjoy what we have, and it wont ever change."

Doubtful.

Even knowing his attitude towards your relationship, it wasn't always easy to keep your mind free of hopeful thoughts, unfortunately. The way he'd hold you so close or kiss you so gently at times brought such confusion it hurt almost worse than any slap from Toji.

You carefully snuck out of the apartment, praying to god that Toji wouldn't hear you. You'd have to come up with some lie at some point, but for now, you just wanted to see the man you desperately longed for. The train station was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment, so it was a quick walk down the road. Approaching the kiosk to pick up your tickets, you held the voucher barcode on your phone underneath the scanner and it printed out a set of tickets for you to board the train. 

Knowing the ride would be a little time-consuming, roughly over an hour, you stared aimlessly out the window for most of the trip, your leg bouncing in anticipation. You tried not to think of all the shameful things you were going to let this beast of a man do to you through the rest of the night, and how you craved every bit of it. It was the only time you didn't have to think or worry, you could just let Sukuna use you as he wanted. 

Nearing the destination, you clicked on Yuna's name in your contacts and took a quick selfie, angling the camera so your pushed-up boobs were clearly visible as well. Before Sukuna, you could never feel confident enough to take such pictures. Even when Toji demanded some risqué photos, you couldn't feel comfortable doing so. Sending them to Sukuna was exciting, however. Being satisfied after a few images, you attached a message, -"I'm coming. ❤"-

-"Yeah, you'll be screaming that soon enough."- he replied nearly instantly.

God, you could hear his cocky chuckle through the text. -"Please, 'cause I seriously need it. This whole week was awful."- You type out, still feeling the throbbing, dull pain in your side where Toji jammed his fist into your ribs for talking back to him. -"Yeah? Well, glad I had you come over then. I'll make sure to fuck all of the stress out of you."-

He sent another photo and you nearly dropped your phone once it popped up on the screen as you weren't expecting to see his large hand tightly wrapped around his hardened cock. You let out a near silent yet audible whimper as your eyes fixated on it. A shudder traveled through your body as you recalled how amazing he could make you feel.

You were just grateful Sukuna asked you to come over tonight, and it not be mainly for work, considering you and Toji had another fight about his past financial problems that somehow became your main responsibility to fix. At the time of your engagement when you were young, dumb, and in love, you had agreed to put all of his bills in your name and his credit debt as soon as possible so he could catch a break and start rebuilding his finances and you'd be able to help with the payments then.

Of course, through some miscommunication, you were responsible for ALL the payments now, and you couldn't keep up. To make it worse, he kept taking out new loans for who knows what and it seriously terrified you. Loan sharks were nothing to mess with. They'd give you anything you want, but if you didn't pay it back, they weren't afraid to get rough for their money. No point in calling the cops either, cause the cops were scared of them half the time too.

Seeing the city lights get closer, you let out a deep breath of suspense, knowing within the next few moments or so you'd be getting fucked stupid in one of the very expensive, luxury penthouses of the seductively, dominant man you met only a few months ago.

You knew the moment you had literally run into him while rushing down the sidewalk, causing his hot morning coffee to spill onto you and all over his expensive suit that things were going to change in your life, even if just for a little while.

End Prologue

I hope you enjoyed! <3 I'm happy to actually be writing this story again. I truly LOVE comments so please leave some! They make me smile so much. ヾ(•ω•`)o

I'll do my absolute best to keep this story updated, unlike before. I promise!

[corkinavoid]

Obsessed With You by Cosmicandy

Theater gothic/Phantom of the opera

(For some horrific reason I couldn't think of a trope)

DPxDC Phantom in the Opera

9/2 sat

Went to Gotham City Opera to see Eugene Onegin with B & Dames. The performance sucked ass (as modern takes on classics usually do), but during Tatyana's aria, some tech guy dropped a rubber chicken from catwalks right on stage. I bet it was on purpose since the lead's voice sounded much similar to the sound that chicken made. Wish I could shake the dude's hand, that was truly the crescendo of the whole scene.

15/2 sun

Came by GCO on the way to WE. Had some time to spare, so decided to go in and find the rubber chicken guy to thank him for the laugh last week. Thought he might appreciate the positive feedback since he was defo yelled at for the stunt. Turns out everyone blames it on a 'ghost'. Using 'Phantom of the Opera' as a cover story is poor taste, in my opinion, but on the other hand, it worked, and who am I to judge.

17/2 mon

Got curious and pulled up the records of GCO employees. No one matches the guy I've seen on the catwalks.

18/2 tue

Blackmailed Damian into drawing the guy. No match through the face recognition program. Should have expected that, really; the one cute guy with a sense of humor I meet (or see, actually), and he doesn't exist.

20/2 thur

Can't stop thinking about the rubber chicken guy. Might have to go back to GCO and ask about the whole ghostly rumor. Last time, no one bat an eye at the 'ghost' excuse, now that I think about it. Has it happened before? Is it a go-to explanation for any prank no one wants to take credit for?

26/2 wed

Visited GCO at night. Seen the guy, but the cam footage came back corrupted when checked downstairs. So maybe the fact that his hair was floating and glowing in the dark was not a hallucination.

27/2 thur

Definitely not a hallucination! Good news: got a sample. Bad news: after analysis, the data also came back corrupted. Weird news: the hair keeps glowing even after it's been cut off.

2/3 sun

The guy's name is Danny. Ghost story confirmed. I'm having a crisis.

4/3 tue

I'm not sure if I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about him or I want to forget everything I've already learned. But then, I've already got so far. Might as well commit to the bit?

8/3 sat

Was invited to see La Traviata tomorrow. Can I still call that reconnaissance, or am I in date territory?

10/3 mon

...it was a date. On an entirely unrelated note, Teddy Hyde ruined all my attempts at coming prepared.

18/3 tue

Heard a new rumor among GCO staff members. They suspect the ghost in their opera is having a crush on Red Robin. Not sure where they've got that idea, but it sure took them some time to notice.

19/3 wed

Damian keeps staring at me at dinners. Maybe I should take that portrait of Danny that he did down from the wall over my bed.

22/3 sat

Going on a date today, and this time, it's definitely a date! Feels like I should be having a crisis over dating a ghost, but somehow, I'm only having a crisis over outfit choices.

61/0° gBs

hEy, yoU're keEEpinG a DIary¡ aboUt Me!¡ ThAt"s cuTe FUCK OFF DANNY THIS IS PRIVATE INFORMATION GET OUT heHeheEhe no~

~•~•~•~

The thing is, I loved the song. And I loved the aesthetic. And I had such a goddamn hard time figuring out how to fit them together; I went through at least three different setups before deciding fuck it imma write silly boys being silly and wish for the best.

Dare I say it turned out cute as fuck, even though I still missed the mark on theater gothic aesthetic for the most part. Anyway, have a few pictures for general vibes!

[Just so you know, if you enter 'sex with a ghost' into google, the first few results will be the lyrics to 'Sex with a Ghost' by Terry Hyde, which is why Tim's research has been rather fruitless]

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[strawberrymoosetracks]

I read this as if it were in the modern day, and that the aforementioned God of War has taken on the modern form of someone who would be consitered the most powerful soldier, or the epitome of modern war. To me, the epitome of modern war is just a relatively fit guy who sits in a room with a PC. Heres my take on it, I didn't put much effort into this so sorry if it sucks :)

I've got to hand it to humans, they are great at making things efficient. Their innovation is beyond any other species I've encountered. One of their favorite things to make more efficient is war. Back in the old days, they trained young men, put them in armor, gave them a sword, and marched them thousands of miles for a fight against other young men who were similarly armed.

They started including horses, which sped up the transportation process. Then they came up with guns. A marvelous invention really. It made war much quicker, but it also forced armor to get better. As much as I liked the shiny armors, it was always too loud. It was nearly impossible to sneak anywhere, and seeing was a nightmare.

Nowadays, the most powerful warmonger is a guy at a desk. One may think that is crazy, but in all fairness, that guy has the ability to shoot a thousand suns at whoever they want to. I've had this job for eighty years, under three seperate faces.

I love efficiency...but the God of War gets bored when the people capeable of war are too scared to fight eachother. The Cold War ranks the lowest out of all the fun wars. Sooo, I look for fun in other ways. I started in the eighties when I could find someone who wasn't an anti-war hippie, but wasn't a complete jerk. That was when I realised my love language. I love physical touch. It's like my kryptonite. Maybe it's that it's been years since any soldier was willing to hug, especially in high war time. I had forgotten how great it felt to hug.

And now we get to the modern day, I have a girlfriend. She's super sweet, but sometimes she has some...interesting ideas. We get into conversations and find out that she has the strangest ideas. We go to the bar with friends and get into conversations about the romans, and as someone who was there, I have to set them straight. They always brush me off, saying that it can't be true. Maybe in my next iteration I can become a historian and set these lies straight. Anyways, we were at a bar with some other soldiers, and we were talking about Ares. That used to be my name, but I have been though too many lives since then.

"You think you can buy the loyalty of the God of War with something as small as affection? Don't be stupid." Leah said, taking a sip of her drink.

As the others seemed to agree, I just had to intervine. "As the aforementioned God of War, she's wrong you can absolutely do that. I'm basically a cat; pat my head and l'l be your loyal servant for... five minutes, give or take?"

The group was completely silent. They all stared at me, trying to work though it. Leah started laughing, "You're funny, Levi. You don't even get in real combat. Like come on." She slowly stoped laughing as my face continued to be serious. "You're not joking? You really think you're the God of War?"

"I don't think, I know." I said, staring into their blank faces, "Ok watch." I looked around the bar and eyed two guys who were friends. I pointed at them, and they immediately became enraged. They yelled at eachother, mostly nonsense. There was no real greivance, just some pent up anger I was using. One was about to swing when they suddenly stopped, sitting down and continued to talk as normal. I turned back to my drink and took a small sip.

I took a deep breath in and out, my shoulders dramatically rising and falling. It had been centuries since I told anyone I was the God of War. Since the romans went out, people stopped believing in pantheon gods. I would have shown the middevial europe my real self, but I had inconveniently been turned into a woman at that time. Calling myself a God was an easy way to get burnt at the stake, and getting out of that was too much work.

"No way..." My girlfriend muttered, staring at me.

I slowly turned to her, "Well, do I give loyalty for head pats?" She nodded slowly, her mouth agape.

My buddy next to her slowly leaned over and patted me on the head, "Please don't kill me."

I smirked, "Wasn't planning on it." I drank the rest of my drink and set it down, not really knowing how to start back up the conversation. It just became dead silent, everyone grapling with my revealed identity. Well I just ruined the night with this again, teaches me to never reveal myself with my close friends. So many centuries into this, and I apparently still have many things to learn.

—"You think you can buy the loyalty of the God of War with something as fickle as affection? Don't be foolish." —"As the aforementioned God of War, she's wrong. You can absolutely do that. I'm basically a cat; pat my head and I'll be your loyal servant for… five minutes, give or take?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Two of a Kind 8

Masterlist

NO TAGS. Don’t ask.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; manipulation; criminal behaviour; cumplay/creampie, talk of contraception; written for smut, just being honest. Not all elements will be tagged/warned.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features dark!Ransom Drysdale and dark!Modern Charles Blackwood. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Ransom and Charles are partner’s in crime but they’re looking for some pleasure after years of business.

Note: :)

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya.

Ransom paces. He’s agitated. Charles always has to be the big man. Always has to be in control. That’s not how this works. This is a partnership. They are equal, in all their gains. It’s why they’re so efficient. 

So how come he’s out in the cold and Charlie Boy is cuddled up nice and close with the kitty. He bets he’s in there getting a double dip. Fucking unbelievable. 

Ransom snarls and flops onto the couch. His satin boxers tickle his tip and he hardens. He hasn’t fully calmed down. Every time he thinks about how she squeezed him, he tingles and twitches. Fuck, that was good. Who would’ve thought?  

He sighs and stands up. He charges down the hall to Charles’ room then stops. He strides back to the front room and retraces his steps a second time. He snarls and cracks his neck. They had a fucking deal. They share. So why is he in there hogging her all to himself? 

He closes his eyes and pictures her shivering in the tub. The tears streaked down her cheeks and the glistening, sticky aftermath of fucking all over her skin. The way he covered her has him fully hard. Fuck it, he’s not waiting until morning. 

He turns the handle and swings the door inward. The room is dark. He can smell the chamomile. Charles’ snores rumble in the dark. He always sounded like a pig in heat when he slept. Ransom slows as his eyes adjust to the dim. 

He sees her squirm. She’s under Charles’ arm. He thinks she’s awake, he swears he can feel her eyes on him. He nears quietly, placing each foot carefully, and bends over the side of the bed. He measures’ his accomplices snores. 

He runs his fingertips down her arm and wraps his fingers around her wrist. He’s lucked out and he’s not gonna pass up the prime opportunity. He tugs her and she whimpers. He hisses out a hush. She gulps and slides out from beneath the blankets and Charles’ arm. 

Ransom stops and pulls her to him as the other man grumbles and shifts onto his stomach. He puts his hand over her mouth to quiet her gasp and she presses flush to him. She’s still naked. 

He turns her and walks her toward the door. He ushers her into the hall as she awkwardly mimics his steps. He reaches back to close the door and she whines. 

“Please, I’m tired--” 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “You can sleep, I’ll still fuck you.” 

“But... Ransom... I... I thought you liked me--” 

He chuckles, sure to keep it low. He nudges her down the hall. He points over her shoulder. 

“I like what you can give me. Well, more what you have. By nature, really. Nothing special but those holes do the job,” he smacks her ass and reaches past her to open his bedroom door. “So why don’t you show them off for me, baby.” 

She curls her shoulders, looking even smaller, and his balls throb. He feels full even though he was aching moments ago. Been a while since he felt so... ready. Usually, he just rolls over and prays he wakes up to an empty bed. 

She hesitates and looks around. He huffs. She’s a bit stupid. Her fear gets him going but it’s also fucking annoying.  

He marches up and grabs the back of her neck. He urges her to the end of the bed and guides her to kneel on the cushioned bench, like a fucking dog. Mm, he likes that. She’s his. His obedient little pet. 

Her back racks visibly as she quivers. He gets behind her and pushes down his boxers, the fabric catching on his swollen tip. He growls and stretches the elastic past his length. He lets the satin fall to his feet and grabs her hip. 

He steps closer and presses his tip along your ass. He smears around the precum already trickling out and shudders. His entire body pulses at the sensation.  

The surge drives him. He bends his knees and leans over her. She whines as he traces down past her ring, a moment of intrigue before he finds her cunt. Charles wouldn’t forgive him if he took her ass without him. 

He glides between her swollen folds and feels her flinches. He groans and rubs against her cunt. He pushes against her opening and she drones as she tenses. Her body resists his intrusion but it only goads him on. 

He snaps his hips and breaks through. She cries out and he once more brings his hand to her mouth. He puts his other on the bench as he bends over her and thrusts again. It takes several tilts for him to bottom out as she sobs into his palm. 

Her agony fills him with smoky delight. Fuck. Her walls throb, milking him as he tries to fight the pressure. He can’t blow already. 

He rolls his hips slowly, enjoying the feeling of her around him, so tight and slick, then the tingle of the naked air around him as he pulls out. In, out. He stands up, bringing her with him, and watches himself pump into her. Shit. Don’t, don’t, don’t. 

He exhales away the swell and carries on. He covers half her face with his hand and ruts harder and harder, pausing after each rippling slap of skin. He leans his head back as his eyes roll into his skull. Her fractured voice is smothered by his palm and she quakes uncontrollably at his mercy. 

He spasms as he erupts, unable to hold it in any longer. He fills her up as he fucks his cum into her until it squelches and leaks out. Even then, he doesn’t stop. He could keep her on him forever. 

👄

You stare at Ransom’s back. Your insides crawl and threaten to spill over. You stare at his muscles, the power woven through them, and you feel the weakness in you. 

His breath rises and falls as you lay in the soft hue cast through the window. You suppress a groan as you turn onto your back. It takes all you have to sit up. You hunch over and touch your pelvis as it scalds.  

You nearly stumble out of the bed. You limp to the door and glance back at his sleeping figure, focusing on him to make sure he isn’t awake. You slip through the door, leaving it slightly open, and creep down the hall. 

Your clothes are still on the floor. You dress in the grim night shade. The friction of fabric on your skin makes you wretch. You can’t stand even that. You never want to be touched again. 

You find your shoes and bag by the door. You stop to listen to the house as you put your coat on. You take out your phone before you flip back the lock. You sneak out into the whipping gales and steel yourself for the walk home. At least, you hope you find your way back. 

You open your maps app and follow the small blue arrow through the desolate night time. Each step is torture. When you trip off a curb, you feel it inside. 

You cry again, here and there, replaying the night in your head. Reliving your own mistakes. How could you ever believe Ransom? You really thought he was into you... 

Your mom can’t know. She’d be horrified. Or... what if she doesn’t believe you? 

That hurts more than anything they did to you. No one would believe you. If they did, they’d say it was your fault. You went to his house, you stayed there with both of them, you didn’t fight hard enough. No, you let them use you. 

You stop and sit on a bench. You know this part of town. You’re just too tired to keep going. You just need a minute. Or two. Or three. 

It takes you a while to get up again. Shivering, you watch the battery on your phone drain. You put it away as you recognise the street signs. It’s like a maze as you struggle to push through the pain and the blistering wind. 

You just want to go home and forget tonight. Forget it like it never happened. 

As you reach your front door, you fumble for the keys. You ease inside, keeping your steps soft and sitting to take off your boots. You hug your bag, huddling over it, and shuffle down the hall. The light flicks on above you. 

You blanch as your mother’s voice calls after you. You inhale and face her, hoping she can’t see your sadness. You force a smile. 

“Mom...” 

“There you are,” she says. “I’ve been waiting all night. I thought you’d be home before me.” 

“I’m sorry, mom, I... I lost track of time--” 

“You couldn’t call, or message?” 

“I know, mom. I—I—” You stutter. “I’m an adult.” 

She scoffs, “I know that but I worry.” 

“It’s okay--” 

“Okay? Out all night with a boy. You never know what could happen.” 

You sniffle, “mom.” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you, honey.” She girds and lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, but... I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

She comes forward and you tremble. You want so desperately to hug her and cry against her. No, like you said, you’re an adult, you made this decision. 

“Well, did you have fun?” She asks. 

The question nearly bowls you over. You stare at her dumbly and shrug. She smiles and snickers, “oh, you don’t have to tell me everything.” 

Good, because you’re not telling her anything. 

[gauntletgirlie]

So, I have a confession to make. Long post to follow, sorry.

Anyone who follows my blog knows I post the thirstiest bullshit, alright, and I love it but…

… there’s a part of me that doesn’t agree with the sexualisation sometimes. I’ve often wondered if my brain just works in different ways to other people’s, maybe I have some aroace in me yearning to come forth? But there are a lot of ships that sprung up from TROP where I have nothing against them at all, I firmly stand on ship and let ship, but what they were founded on I did not interpret as sexy or romantic.

For example, Adar is shipped with all and sundry and it’s brilliant and peak comedy at times, fuelled by Sam Hazeldine’s fantastic chemistry with his co-stars. But there are certain scenes where I get why they were interpreted that way, but I also think a lot can be missed by jumping to sex/romance.

One instance is Adar telling Elrond he has the beauty of his forebear Melian. In modern society, a man calling another man beautiful probably is flirting, since men (generalisation) struggle to compliment each other apparently without feeling the need to caveat “no homo”. But in the context of Tolkien’s world and even medieval norms, that wasn’t the case. If anything, Adar is showing off his knowledge and also baiting Elrond by asking if he’s as wise as Melian.

Also take the scene where Adar chokes Elrond to get Nenya from around his neck. Often interpreted as kinky (which is valid). Sometimes choking is just violence though. Adar needed to get Nenya and overpower Elrond. He’s in the middle of a literal battle. Maybe I’ve watched too much true crime and seen the effects of countless domestic abuse cases, but choking can just be violent and violently intended. Probably a boring and obvious take, but that’s how I perceived it when I watched.

Does Adar look sexy as hell doing it? I think so but others might not. Could you also see it as Adar flirting with Elrond and ship them together? Of course! Why the hell not! I just sometimes miss the non-romantic aspects of analysis and discussion.

Same with Maidar. I totally get where that ship comes from, it makes sense, it has a lot going for it. I also personally adhere to the notion there was no sex or romance between them. I think there was alluring, I think there was admiration, I think there was a codependency, I don’t think it was sexual or romantic. To me, having your best friend and/or most trusted, loyal follower stab you in the back would hurt more than a lover. I might be falling back on my own thoughts on how I’d feel and I would personally be more devastated at being betrayed by my closest friend than my husband. I’ve lost friends and I’ve lost loves, the friends hurt more.

Adariel is another one. Again, I think there are strong grounds for that ship and I love so much of the art for it, but a lot of what is interpreted as romantic for me was just tactical manipulation, coupled with genuine admiration on Adar’s part and the fact that Galadriel is beautiful so most people would be attracted to her if we’re being totally honest. Adar used her to get what he wanted. His methods might have included flirtation or creating tension in closeness, but for me, they were all about tactics to defeat Sauron. Galadriel and Nenya were a way for him to do that so he did want he needed to facilitate that.

I’m not even going to touch on Haladriel or Saurondriel because this post is already hella long and my anxiety is already sky high so I’m chickening out.

Sorry this is such a weird random word vomit, it was nerve wracking to write and post, but I just needed space to let this part of me out. I know it’s so contradictory to how I’ve presented myself on here so far, but I felt like if I’m allowed to let the thirst flow, I should be allowed to let this version of me out as well.

I’m literally this:

Guess which one gets fed more? 😂

Fear not, folks, I will resume my thirsty bullshit forthwith.

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 5

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9,438

Summary: You and Pero have talked things through - and it's time to figure out what comes next for you.

For both of you, though, that means being open, honest ... and asking for exactly what you want.

Rating: M/E : This is a smutty one, friends. It's finally happening.

Author's Note:

The end is here, and I cannot thank you enough for the support and interest you've shown in this story. It definitely grew from what I first envisioned it to be, and I'm really happy with the outcome - I hope you are, too. It's always so intimidating to write for a new character, but to know that one of my favorite Pero writers - I'm looking at you, @oonajaeadira - has enjoyed this take on him means a TON.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

You both sat on the couch while you ate, and Pero filled you in on exactly what had happened with the power at the party. 

“Something in the kitchen overloaded the wiring.” He waved his hand in the air, fingers clutching the remnants of a sandwich. “And when they tried to reset that breaker, they tripped the whole building.” He laughed, shaking his head and swearing under his breath. “That’s how it all came back so quickly.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious.” He nodded as he chewed. “Did they get pissed at you since you weren’t right there to protect Christina?” 

“No.” He took another bite. “The assignment was never to be right beside her at all times. William and I were further away than her team, and I just happened to be near you.” You didn’t quite think that was the truth; Pero had to have searched for you in order to be that close, since you’d purposely moved almost all the way across the party space. “And I got to where they were as soon as I could to assess the situation. I did my job.” 

“You protected me.” You took a bite of the food he’d gotten you, giving yourself a few seconds to think. “You were there to protect someone else, and you still … You were mad at me, Pero. I didn’t expect …” 

“I did. And I would do it again. I told you that.” He sipped from his cup,  lips wrapping around the straw. “Even upset, I was still worried about you.” Pero balled up the wrapper from his meal and then leaned back against the couch cushions. “I was actually going to pull you to the side at the party and apologize because I acted like an asshole. But you didn’t give me the chance.” He looked past you and his eyes widened. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You looked, too, and with a smile you realized that as soon as the clock struck 12, you could be the first person to wish Pero a Merry Christmas. I wonder if he’s ever had anyone with him for a holiday like this before. “I’m sad we don’t have our hats from the meet and greet.” You looked back at him, grinning. “Santa Pero tucking me into bed on Christmas Eve would be -” 

He groaned, covering his face with both hands as you laughed, reaching over to settle your hand between his shoulders. “You would like that, wouldn’t you.” 

“I would.” Leaning in, you let your mouth hover just above his ear. “I would like that very much, Pero Tovar.” You weren’t used to having to take such a lead with men, but until Pero truly believed that your interest was genuine - and not short term - you had no issue with being a little more forward than usual to get results. Because I don’t think it’ll be this way forever. He just needs to get comfortable.

“I kept your toothbrush.” He looked over at you, a half smile on his lips. “I hoped you’d get  to use it again.” Really? You both sat up and Pero pointed at the hallway. “I’m going to clean up out here, if you need to do anything to get ready for bed.” He stood, reaching out with one hand. “I have one request though.” Arching a brow, you waited for him to continue. “Wait… and let me help you out of those clothes.” 

It took a little while for the two of you to do what you needed to do, but the whole time, your heart was racing. 

You figured he was nervous, too, but you hoped that it was in a good way, Pero’s desire for you outweighing any lingering apprehension he felt about the situation. By the time you made your way into his bedroom, flipping the light switch on and taking a look around the space, you were determined to do whatever it took to put him at ease. It keeps me from getting into my own head, too. 

There were a few photos on the walls - mostly of Pero, Lin and William, but there were a few more, too, that looked like they’d been taken on his phone and printed out. Some of them were scenery, some of them were cityscapes, and you made a mental note to ask him about them - and where they’d been taken. Later. Not tonight. 

His room was cozy, and out of the other places in his home that you’d spent time in, it felt the most like him. It wasn’t just because it smelled like Pero - it also seemed to be the most lived in. “I like seeing you in here.” He appeared in the doorway, and then leaned against it. “It’s unexpected, but I like it.” 

“Do you?” He nodded, eyeing you up and down. I like being in here. “Your bed looks comfortable.” You pointed, leaning back and against the dresser. “Is it?” 

“You’ll find out soon.” Pero stepped forward, his motion smooth and slow, almost graceful. “Before anything happens, I …” He stopped in front of you, lifting one hand to tilt your chin up. “After what I told you earlier, I figured you might have some … concerns.” Oh. The paying for sex. I didn’t … “It’s been months since I’ve done that. I’m careful, and always use protection. And afterward…” He wet his lips. “I get tested regularly, since all of my relationships are short-lived. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time I got results, so …” He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, holding it up. “I can show you, but -”

“I trust you.” You put a hand at the center of his chest. “And I know you’re going to say that it’s stupid to trust someone with something like that, but I do.” Because trust is important. He looked confused and then the expression turned to acceptance, Pero’s gaze moving over your face. “Anything else?” 

“No.” He paused, and then frowned. “Well, yes.” You smiled at that, giving him a chance to continue. “I might need …” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Just be patient with me, please?” 

“Patient?” He nodded slowly. “Of course, Pero.” But what does that even mean? “Do you need anything else, or are we in here for the night?” He thought for a few seconds and then moved his head from side to side, eyes locked with yours. 

“I only need you.” Inhaling sharply through your nose at the confession, you didn’t even think about it before you leaned in and kissed him, the tips of your fingers curling inward and against the material of his shirt. His hands settled in at your waist to hold you close, and when Pero returned the kiss, he did it with purpose, his full lips moving with yours like it wasn’t a new thing. 

You felt his tongue probing along your lower one and parted them for him, hoping that Pero wouldn’t tease you the same way he had earlier. Seconds later, you got your wish when it slipped past your lips to meet yours, Pero’s fingers digging in and making you sigh. He stopped immediately, breaking the kiss and backing off enough that you saw the wide eyed expression on his face. This must be the patience thing. 

“That was a good noise. Please don’t stop.” You moved your hand as you spoke, sliding it over so that you could begin to undo his buttons. “This shirt is a great color for you.” Breaking eye contact, you watched the motion of your fingers and listened to each of Pero’s sharp inhales as you moved downward. “I can’t wait to see it on the floor.” 

He snorted at that and you were thankful for it, the sound confirming that he wasn’t getting too lost in his own head about what was happening. “I was thinking the same thing earlier tonight about what you are wearing.” He spoke quietly, pulling the bottom hem of your shirt free from where it was tucked in. “But I was also wondering what you have on beneath it.” 

You reached the last button before his waist and then looked back up, biting your lip. “You’re about to find out.” His smile spread slowly, the expression one you weren’t used to seeing him wear. Pero tipped his head to the right and dropped a kiss at the corner of your mouth, hands sliding up and beneath your shirt so that his palms were flush with your skin. 

It was your turn to gasp then, the warmth of his hands comforting. He continued to kiss his way across the lower half of your face, lips skating over your cheek and then toward your ear before dropping down to follow the line of your jaw. Your hands stayed busy, moving lower to the button on his pants and popping it free, which gave you a chance to pull his shirt loose, too, and finish undoing it. 

He groaned when you touched his abdomen, pushing the sides of the shirt apart, and when Pero backed away, there was a wild look in his eyes.”I like this. The … slowness? You are taking your time, and… it is new.” Glancing over his shoulder so that you could see the clock on his nightstand, your eyebrows shot up. Perfect. 

“I’m just enjoying opening my first present.” You wrinkled your nose. “Merry Christmas, by the way. According to your clock, it’s after midnight.” He turned to look, too, and then said your name when he faced you again. 

“Sorry that I am not wearing a bow.” He wet his lips, the flash of his tongue distracting you. “To make this more festive.” 

“You don’t need one.” Using one finger, you prodded at the chain around his neck. “This is shiny enough.” And. “And I think you should leave it on.” That took him by surprise, but Pero quickly agreed, the arch of one eyebrow telling you that he was intrigued by your request. “Help me out here.” You moved your hands to his shirt again, easing it back and over his shoulders. “Let go of me for a second.” 

He did. It only took you moments to remove the silvery fabric, revealing that beneath it, he had on a black v-neck t shirt that was stretched over his chest and shoulders. Holy shit look at him. “What is that look for?” 

“I… you…” Gesturing with one hand, you laughed nervously. “You’re still almost fully dressed, and …” You trailed off as he reached down and pulled the shirt up and over his head, giving you your first real glimpse of skin. 

“There. Now I have solved your problems.” He grinned, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand.

“No, you’ve given me about a million more.” That made him laugh, and when Pero reached for your hand and squeezed it, leading you the few steps toward his bed, you followed. You eyed him as you walked, mapping the way his muscles looked as they moved beneath his skin and the way his unbuttoned pants sat at his waist, hugging his hips. 

“I think,” he started, turning back to look at you and reaching for your shirt, his fingers working the buttons. “That I enjoy you looking at me this way almost as much as I enjoyed the way you spoke to Christina that first night.” He paused, palming the swell of your breast with one hand and then returned to his task. “Would you say the same thing to anyone else that talked about me like she did?”

“Would you want me to?” You were breathless as you spoke, the feeling of his touch and the heat of his gaze making it hard for you to concentrate. “Is that something that I can… oh God, Pero, please just…” You broke off mid-sentence as he finished and began to push your shirt over your shoulders, his hands sliding slowly up your body. “Keep touching me.”

The smile remained on his face as he removed your shirt, the material sliding down your arms and then onto the floor. Instead of putting his hands back on your torso he used them to cradle your face, tilting it so that when he leaned in, your mouth was perfectly lined up with his. “Yes.” He mumbled the words between kisses, one hand siding back to the nape of your neck and the other dropping to your shoulder. “I would want you to.” 

You whimpered at that, wrapping your arms around Pero and stepping forward to press yourself against him. The feeling of his bare chest pressed to your body made you almost dizzy, and when your fingers dug into his back for balance, He grunted, pulling on the strap of your bra and dragging it over your shoulder. 

As much as you wanted to slow things down and savor the first time you went to bed with Pero, you knew that as soon as he removed your bra, there’d be no going back. And that’s fine. It surprised you when he broke the kiss and spun you around, winding his arms around you from behind and then ducking his head to kiss your shoulder. Wait, what is he… 

Pero rocked his hips forward, the hand on your stomach urging you backward while the other one slipped downward, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. Tipping your head back so that you could lean it against his shoulder, you sighed, closing your eyes. He was hard beneath his own pants, the length of him pressed against you, and when you reached for the hand on your belly, guiding it upward, he let you. 

He got the hint - Pero using that hand to paw at your chest, the contrast between his skin and your bra moving against your skin almost distracting you from the fact that his other hand kept moving lower and lower, pushing your pants with it. “Pero, I -” That was all you got out before he kissed you again, the angle not the most comfortable but still welcome, as was the way he bit down on your lower lip before sucking it between his. Fuck, I am lucky. 

He pushed the lace of your bra - one of the ones you saved for special occasions - to the side and then swirled a thumb over that nipple, the motion making your back arch and pushing you into him again. Pero’s mouth moved from yours back down to your shoulder and stayed there, the scrape of his stubbled chin sharp in contrast to the way he touched you elsewhere. But I don’t want him behind me. “What is wrong?” He spoke quietly, turning his head inward and nuzzling against your jaw. “You are stiff.” 

“I want…” You hummed, reaching down to stop the movement of the hand at your waist. “I want to look at you, Pero. I want to see you, not just feel you.” Turning to face him, you nodded at the sight of the confused expression he wore. “We only get this once.” 

You hoped he understood what you meant - that after that night, you’d never get the chance to be together for the very first time again. And I want it to feel personal, not like … not like it’s just something that’s happening. “Whatever you want.” He smiled again, hands gliding down to squeeze your hips. “I cannot wait to see all of you.” 

Taking that as a sign, you reached up and behind you, unhooking your bra and then shrugging out of it before letting it drop to the ground. He watched that, lips parted, and then looked back at you, his palms following the contours of your body as they rose. Yes. Finally. You arched your back again, encouraging him to keep going, and when Pero’s hands finally made it to your chest and he touched you, you moaned, closing your eyes. 

As soon as he heard that, his touch went from light and exploratory to certain, pushing your breasts together as he leaned down and mouthed at your collarbone again. And when he moved lower, you urged him to continue with one hand in his hair, fingers tangled in his locks. 

He took one nipple between his lips and sucked on it before releasing it only to follow that with a few quick flicks of his tongue before switching to the other side. You would have been content to stand there for hours, but Pero straightened up, his eyes blazing as he met your gaze again. “I think it’s time we get into that bed.” He cleared his throat, both hands still stroking over your skin. “Do you want me to turn the lights off?” 

“No.” You answered immediately, flattening one hand against his chest. “Unless that makes you more comfortable.” 

Your answer took him by surprise, but Pero wasted no time walking you backwards the few steps it took you to reach the bed. And when your shins made contact with the frame, he stopped you, both hands moving to the button - and zipper - of your pants, undoing them swiftly. He pushed them down so that you could step out of them, but left your underwear in place. 

You were stunned that you didn’t feel self conscious standing in front of him in so little, because it hadn’t been that way with your previous partners. You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Pero and watching as he put a hand on his hip and stared at you. A few seconds later, his smile widened and Pero reached for his waist, finishing with the zipper and easing his pants down. 

He was wearing trunks, the waistband low on his hips, and the legs stretched tight around his upper thighs. “Wow, Pero.” You licked your lips, head shaking back and forth as you eyed him, lingering on his torso - and waist. “I had no idea you were hiding that under all those clothes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” He reached down, adjusting the elastic over one hip without looking away from you. “Beautiful.” Heat rushed to your cheeks then, and you ducked your head but still heard Pero’s quiet chuckle. “You do not like compliments either, hmm?”

“I’m not used to them coming from you.” Cautiously, you looked back up and put your hands out, waiting for him to take them. “Want to get in here with me?” He nodded, taking a half step forward and standing between your legs. “C’mere, Pero.” 

He leaned down, mouth finding yours again, and the series of events that followed happened almost before you could process it. 

As you kissed, Pero put one knee on top of the mattress and balanced his weight on it, using the forward motion of his body to urge you onto your back. He let go of your hands, sliding one of his beneath your head while he flattened the other palm on the bed, allowing him to hover over you. You moved your hands over his back, exploring the expanse of muscle as it flexed beneath your touch. I can’t believe this is happening. 

When you moved them down to his waist - and then lower, palms curved to follow his contours, Pero growled into your kiss, his hips snapping forward to push his length against the front of your hip. Your fingers curled inward, holding him in place - and Pero took the hint. 

He lowered his body more, grinding against you and letting you feel the weight of him. “Pero we need to move up. I…” Sighing as he paused long enough to breathe - and kiss the column of your throat - you shivered the words out. “I want us to be comfortable, and…” He backed off, giving you an opportunity to resituate yourself - and then he was on you again. 

He straddled you, legs spread wide so that when he leaned forward, he could continue the same motion as earlier. Your hands returned to the same place they’d been before, too, but instead of just touching him, you pushed your fingers beneath the material and held onto him, guiding his hips with skin-to-skin contact for the first time. 

But Pero didn’t kiss your mouth again; instead he worked his way down your throat to your chest, lips trailing along the length of your collarbone before he bit down gently, accompanied by a thrust of his hips. You could feel the cool metal of the chain as it dragged against your skin, your mind trying to focus on that and the feeling of his mouth at the same time - and failing. You were overwhelmed by him, and he’d barely touched you. I haven’t really touched him, either. 

He dragged his tongue over your skin and kissed his way down, drawing one nipple back between his lips before releasing it with a pop. “I could do this all night.” He spoke without moving away from you, the breath from each exhale warm as it hit your damp skin. “But I am impatient, and I’m sure you are, too.” 

He moved off of you and then laid down beside you, stretching out along the length of your body. When you turned your head to look at him, you weren’t expecting him to kiss you right away, his hand laying lightly against your cheek. 

Wiggling your hips, you settled in, heartbeat rapid, even after he backed away. “So I have to be patient, but you get to be impatient? That doesn’t seem fair.” He rolled his eyes, mouth opening to reply - but you didn’t give him the chance to. “Lay back.” He did as you asked, and then you propped yourself up on one elbow, taking him in. 

You were impatient too, but the desire to remind him that you were thinking beyond that night was more important. I need to show him that I want him. Sliding your hand over his stomach, you focused on the skin beneath his navel and above his waistband, fingertips circling over the dark trail of hair there before you moved back up, dragging the edges of your nails along his skin. Pero grunted, gritting his teeth - but didn’t look away. 

You leaned forward and kissed his chest, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips to his skin. You kept your hand moving, too, covering as much of his body as you could without wavering in your attention. There were parts of him that were more sensitive than others - his body jerked when you reached a spot on his side that was about halfway up his ribcage, and he groaned at the feeling of your tongue dragging slowly over the base of his throat, the breath leaving him in a whoosh when you took the chain between your teeth and tugged. 

But when your hand moved back down at the same time you redirected your kisses to the underside of his jaw, Pero stopped you, his fingers closing around yours. “No. Stop.” You raised your head in concern, but he didn’t look angry - just overstimulated. “If you touch me now, I will not make it inside of you.” He swallowed as your eyes widened in surprise. “Next time. I promise you, but … not yet.” 

“Ok, Pero.” You took a deep breath. “I understand.” He squeezed your hand and then released it, and you used it to balance yourself as you lowered your head again, mouth returning to its previous path. Pero’s hand moved almost lazily up your side as you left a trail of kisses across his face, though you avoided his mouth. You lingered at the patch in his beard before turning your head inward and nuzzling against his nose before taking another breath and deciding that if you were in - you were all in. 

When you pressed your lips to the bottom edge of his scar for the first time, Pero’s hold on you tightened, but you didn’t let that deter you. You followed the length of it with your lips, mindful of the fact that he could tell you to stop at any time, but it wasn’t until you softly kissed his closed eyelid - and felt dampness beneath your lips - that you pulled away. “Pero? Is everything… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“No.” He moved faster than you thought was possible from his position, rolling the two of you over so that you were on your back and he was above you again. “You are … no one has ever…” He couldn’t get the words out, but you understood what he was trying to say. “You are too good for me.” His voice was unsteady, but he kissed you in the pause before he spoke again, mouth gentle. “I do not deserve someone like you after what I -” He needs to stop this. 

“You do, Pero.” Reaching up, you took his face between his hands, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve good things. You deserve to be happy. And all of those people that treated you like shit don’t matter, because the way they were to you says more about them than it does about you. And I know this is entirely too fucking much for the first time with someone, but you need to hear it. If I have to keep reminding you that that’s the truth, I’ll do it every single time we’re together, if that’s what it takes.” 

He was stunned - you saw the surprise in his eyes … but to your relief, he didn’t contradict you. “If you say so.” He gave you a small smile. “Did I ruin it?”

“No.” Biting the inside of your lip, you cocked your head to the side. “You can go ahead and find out just how much you didn’t ruin it if you want.” He looked confused, but after a few moments seemed to understand, shifting back into position next to you and then dragging his hand down the length of your body. “You can touch me, Pero. I -” 

That was as far as you got before he did as you asked. Pero’s eyes went wide as he felt the dampness of the only piece of clothing you still wore, your back arching as you reacted to his touch. “You are … this is…” He looked down, chest heaving as he watched the movement. “Shit.” 

He touched you through the thin material first, two fingers gliding along the outline of you, and when you widened the spread of your legs to give him more room, he took the opportunity to add a third finger and some pressure, his attention still on his hand. But that’s fine, you rationalized as he swirled his fingers in a slow circle. I want him to watch. 

You reached down then, lifting your hips again to push the waistband down and over your thighs. Pero helped you out, tugging them further and exposing you to him for he first time. He slid his hand back up the inside of your thigh, and when he finally touched you, you moaned at the feeling, closing your eyes and pressing your head into the pillow. “Pero.” 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, but it did something to Pero, who dropped his head, lips latching onto your shoulder while his fingers kept moving. He parted you with two of them, using a third to circle slowly over and over in the space between. It felt incredible, Pero’s touch not at all what you’d expected, and when he widened the circle and extended his fingers down, you curled your toes and opened your eyes - one hand fisting the blankets beside you and the other clamping down against his bare back. 

He slid one finger into you and you rocked your hips forward, Pero replacing lips with teeth as you tilted your chin down, burying your nose in his hair. One finger became two, Pero thrusting them in and out of you slowly. He was slow and methodical, entirely focused on what he was doing - and you couldn’t get enough. 

Widening the spread of your legs even more, you rolled your hips to meet each thrust, mouth open as you took and released quick, shallow breaths. You didn’t even register that he’d released your skin from between his teeth until Pero’s head rose and he spoke your name. “I think you’re ready for me. I hope you’re ready for me, because -”

“Yes. I - ohhh.” He kept his eyes on you as his hand continued to move, and even though it was difficult, you didn’t close yours. You caught the smile he gave you as he watched your reaction, Pero’s lips quirking upward and his eyes darkening. “Need you, Pero.” Reaching down, you touched his wrist, pushing on it gently. “Please.” 

He removed his fingers slowly, and you hummed as they slipped free. “Give me a second.” He brought his hand up, eyeing how slick they were - and then before you had a chance to say anything, he popped them into his mouth, eyes closing at the taste of you. You gasped, but it didn’t cover up the sound of his deep, satisfied groan. Holy fuck, I wasn’t expecting that, I didn’t… 

He rolled away from you, fingers still in his mouth, and then you heard the bedside table drawer open. It’s happening. But Pero stood up suddenly, climbing out of the bed and then tossing a condom toward you. “What are -”

“What do you want?” He glanced down as he spoke, hands at his hips and beginning to push his underwear down. “No, that is the wrong question.” He looked back up, the smile back on his face, though that time, it was more of a smirk. “How do you want this?” 

“I…” You were torn between looking him in the eye and wanting to watch the final bits of his skin come into view. “Pero, I…” He laughed, the sound low, and then stepped out of his underwear, briefly bending over before he straightened up, giving you an unobstructed view at his entire body. Wow. Ok. You wanted to touch him - wanted to know what he felt like in your hand and sliding between your fingers. You wanted to taste him, too, the thought of weight of him against your tongue and the heat of him as he came consuming you. But that’s not happening tonight. 

Pero reached down with the same hand he’d touched you with to wrap his fingers around his length, which distracted you again. Damn him. “Well?” He stroked himself lazily, and you filed the motion away for later, paying attention to the way he held himself and where he squeezed just a little extra. His hands are so goddamn big. “I need to know how -”

“Whatever you’re used to?” You rested one hand on your abdomen, turning your cheek toward the pillow without breaking eye contact. “I want the opposite.” It was yet another risk to ask Pero to consciously choose a different position and approach to sex than he usually did, but you hoped that he understood why you were asking for it - and what you hoped it would signal. “Is that alright?” 

He was surprised by your request, but it didn’t keep him immobile for long, Pero putting one knee on the mattress and climbing back into bed. He reached for the foil square with his free hand and only let go of himself when he moved to open it. “It’s more than alright.” He looked down, and then resituated his hand at his base as he rolled the condom on, nodding his head. “It is a good reminder.” 

He crawled toward you then and leaned over, using the knuckles on one hand to stroke your cheek. “A reminder?” 

“Yes.” Pero stretched out beside you, rolling onto his side and facing you. “That this is not that.” He understands. Pero closed the distance between you, his hand on your side. When he kissed you, it wasn’t quite timid but there was a slight hesitation before he fully committed to it, his full lips slotted with yours before he parted them, urging you to do the same. It’s going to be OK, Pero.

As the kiss deepened, he used the hand on your side to guide your leg into place, positioning it so that your thigh rested atop his hip. You could feel him that way - pressing against you, each shallow flex of his hips increasing the contact. 

“Are you sure?” He spoke between kisses, his damp forehead pressed to yours. “That you want this? With me?” 

“I am.” You nodded, moving your hand from the back of his head to his shoulder. “Are you?” He didn’t speak, but Pero reached between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your center again as he lined himself up. You kept eye contact with him as he inched forward, and were unable to look away, even as he used a slow thrust to push inside of you. Finally. 

You nodded after a few seconds and then Pero rocked forward again, moving his hand to the back of your thigh to pull you closer. “I need a minute.” His voice was strained, and you could see that he was gritting his teeth. “If I move, I -” You kissed him then, interrupting his words and trying to keep your own hips from moving. It’s alright. 

He didn’t need to explain to you, because you understood. You were already tightly wound from the way he’d touched you, and thanks to the way he was holding you open, you knew that once he found a rhythm, you’d be able to come from the friction of your body against his alone. And if I finish quick, he will, too. 

Pero licked into your mouth, tongue dragging over the edges of your teeth, and when he moved his hips, you did, too, meeting his motion. As he picked up speed, the kiss turned sloppier and his grip on your thigh tightened. You threaded your fingers through his hair, gripping it and tugging, mouth hanging open as you lost yourself in him. 

You stopped trying to kiss him back and instead turned your head so that you could pant into his ear, Pero’s cheek pressed against the pillow and each of his exhales hitting your throat. He kept hold of your thigh and lengthened his strokes, slowing down. What is he… 

When he rolled forward, pushing you onto your back, you went willingly, Pero angling his hips so that he could keep moving. But when he pulled all the way out of you you cried out, fingers tightening in his hair and against his shoulder. “Why did you stop?” You gasped the words out, eyes wide open as you stared up at him. “Pero, why did -”

“I did not stop.” He murmured the words, leaning down to kiss you again as he ran the hand on your thigh along your skin. “I paused so I could make us more comfortable.” After sitting up, he reached down with both hands and widened the spread of your legs so that he could kneel between them. You didn’t miss it when his gaze moved over the length of your body, or the way his jaw twitched at the sight of you, Pero’s fingers curling against your thighs. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Pero Tovar.” You covered your face with both hands. “And you know it.” He laughed, the sound low, and then you felt the mattress dip as he shifted, one of his hands releasing your leg. I want to see this. 

Propping yourself up on both elbows, you looked down and watched as he concentrated, eyes moving between himself and you as he re-aligned. Pero’s shoulders rose and fell as he took and released a deep breath… and then he was sliding into you again, the sight of his length disappearing into your body making your eyes close as you collapsed back onto the bed. 

He started with deep, slow thrusts as he leaned forward, hands moving to the blankets on either side of your body. By the time he’d stretched out enough that he could bend his elbows and rest his weight on them, those movements had quickened. He went deeper from that angle, each forward flex of his hips accompanied by a quiet grunt and met with a reflex thrust of your own. 

You flattened one foot on the bed and bent your knee, angling that leg outward while wrapping the other one around his hip again, your heel digging into the back of his calf and urging him even closer - which was next to impossible. As you closed your eyes, you raised both hands and dug your nails into his shoulders, not even trying to conceal the noises you made - and to your delight, Pero didn’t, either. 

You’d remember them forever - the way he grunted and groaned, a quiet snarl escaping his lips when you lifted your hips and met a particularly sudden thrust of his, which was followed by an equally devastating one, his head dropping so that the tip of his nose met the front of your shoulder. He kept it there for the next few minutes, his bedroom filled with the sounds both of you made, but when he spoke your name, pulling it from deep within himself, you forced your eyes open, watching as he raised his head and looked down at you. 

Pero didn’t falter in his movement, and you bit your lip at the way he gritted his teeth, nose wrinkling before he was able to speak again. “You feel incredible.” He swallowed, nodding as he continued. “Fucking perfect.” It was enough to make you shiver, and you knew he caught the motion when he actually smiled, Pero leaning down to kiss you on the mouth. “Will you come this way? Is -”

“Mmhmm.” You closed your eyes and gasped, back arching off of the bed when he swiveled his hips, the length of him buried inside you. “Oh, fuck, Pero.” He switched to shallow thrusts, giving you a chance to collect yourself. “Can you?” 

“Of course.” He licked his lips, nodding. “I am holding back, I -” 

“Don’t.” Don’t you dare. “I don’t want you to.” Moving one hand from his back to between your bodies, you nodded again, flexing your calf muscles. “Come, Pero. Let me feel you.” You dragged your hand over your skin and moved your fingers into place, making sure to graze his skin with the edges of your nails. He looked confused for a second, but when you went lower, spreading your fingers wide enough so that you could feel where he entered you, the look in his eyes changed to one of understanding. “Fuck me like you’ve waited three years to do it, Pero.”

He sped up again, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before he slammed them shut and tilted his head back. You closed yours, too, sighing. It felt good, the length of him sliding between your fingers before you moved your hand into place, two fingers pressed against your skin and gliding in a slow circle. But before you could find your own rhythm, Pero slowed down again, a growl tearing from his throat. 

“No. Not like this. Not with you.” You opened your eyes, the motion of your hand stuttering - and it stopped when you saw the way he was looking at you. He’s never looked at … oh, shit. Pero’s brow was furrowed, his lips parted, and he was staring at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to look at again. “Let me watch you.” 

He sunk into you all the way and then paused, rotating his hips in a slow circle. It trapped your hand between the two of you, and Pero’s eyes were molten when he spoke again, voice low and full of need. 

“Let me feel you.” 

He drew his hips back, giving your hand the space it needed to begin moving again. You were hesitant. But when he nodded, arching a brow, you let out a long breath and did just that. 

Starting slow, you circled your fingers, dragging them through your slick and spreading it over your skin. You hummed at your own touch, letting your mind wander to Pero’s fingers earlier, and when he started to move again, gradually increasing his pace to match the motion of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. “Pero, it won’t…” You hummed, adding pressure and a little speed. “It’s going to be quick, and -”

“Good.” He leaned down, mouth finding yours briefly. “We have waited too long.” 

You agreed, and that was all you needed to speed up more, touching yourself the way you usually did. Eyes opening again, you found that Pero was still watching you, though his were heavy lidded - evidence of his body’s response to yours. 

As the moments passed, you felt your own body’s response - a heat in your belly, the quickening of your heartbeat, muscles tensing as you got closer and closer to a moment that hours earlier, you hadn’t imagined was possible. “Pero, I -” 

He smiled at you, nodding, and when you let go of him to drop your hand to the mattress, he grabbed for it without missing a beat, linking your fingers together and bringing both of them up next to your head. His grip tightened with your gasp, Pero’s hips flexing forward at the same time you thrust yours upward, increasing the friction. 

It was enough. 

You came with a gasp, fingers stuttering as your muscles clenched around him, Pero’s motion continuing as your toes curled and you squeezed his hand. He mumbled two words - that’s it - and you watched as his smile grew, your own mouth hanging open as you pressed your head into the pillow. Oh my god. 

You cried out as a wave of pleasure coursed through you, the feel of him moving within you prolonging the moment - and then Pero was coming, too, one last sharp thrust burying him as deep as possible as he finished. You felt him as he filled the condom, Pero’s release coming in spurts as your body pulled him in deeper and sent a second wave through you, making you shudder beneath him. Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, I… 

Your hand fell away from your body and Pero’s head dropped again, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against your shoulder and more of his weight on you. 

Neither of you said anything for almost a minute, and to your surprise, it was Pero who opened his mouth first, head turning inward so that when he spoke, it was against the side of your neck. “I do not want to move.” He sighed and then kissed your skin, lips pressed to your pulse point. “Are you alright? You -” 

“Pero.” Unlinking your fingers, you reached up and dragged them through his hair, pulling the sweat-damp strands away from his face. “I’m more than alright.” He lifted his head to look at you, eyes wide. “And I don’t want to move either, but if we don’t, I’ll fall asleep right here, and that would be messy.” 

His lips twitched into a half smile and before you could say anything, he was kissing you, tongue dipping past your lips and into your mouth. I’ll never say no to this. He kissed you deeply, only breaking it when he needed to breathe… but the smile was still there and his eyes were bright - Pero obviously sated but still alert. “You’re right.” Without saying anything else, he reached down between you and then pulled out, rolling away and laying on his back beside you. 

You missed him immediately, and weren’t able to conceal your gasp at the way it felt to realize that, head turning to the side so that you could look at him. “Pero, I -”

“No.” Turning his head, he winked at you. “Not yet. We will talk when we are done.” 

Ten minutes later, you stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in one of his robes only to find the bedroom empty. 

Your pulse had settled and you felt calmer, though you were still reeling from what had happened between you. You hadn’t stopped smiling while you were in the bathroom - even as you washed your face and brushed your teeth again, the expression had stayed put. And it’ll be there for a long time, too. Because … that was everything I wanted. 

“Are you going to sleep in that?” He spoke from behind you, and when you turned toward the sound, you saw that he was holding two bottles of water, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe. “Because if you are, you are overdressed.” 

He’d only put on his underwear, and you didn’t even try to keep from staring at him greedily, taking in the sight of his almost naked body. “I didn’t plan on it.” You untied the belt and let it drop to the floor, the sides of the robe splitting apart to expose a strip of skin at the center of your body. “If that’s alright.” 

“It is preferred.” He moved closer, holding one of the bottles out to you. “I usually wear nothing to bed.” That was a piece of information you filed away, too, and after draining almost half of the bottle, you shrugged the robe down and over your shoulders before tossing it to the side and getting back into bed - though you climbed under the covers that time. 

He flipped the light switch off and then drank deeply from the bottle before setting it down and taking off his underwear. Even in the low light coming in through the slats in the window blinds, you could see him clearly, watching his outline before he climbed into bed and moved as close to you as he could get. “What were you going to say earlier?” He flattened his hand atop the pillow as he spoke, though he didn’t touch you. 

“I was going to say,” you started as you stroked the length of his bare arm, knuckles dragging along his skin. “That when you just … rolled away? It was … I missed …” Just say it. “It’s so stupid, Pero, but you were there and then you weren’t, and I realized that -”

“It is not stupid.” He moved his hand enough so that he could touch your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek. “I was … abrupt. I will work on that.” He inched closer, his cheek scraping across the pillow. “With you, hopefully.” He blinked slowly, and you felt as he held his breath, waiting for your response. Oh, Pero. 

“We might need a lot of practice.” Biting your lip, you also moved your head closer, though you didn’t break eye contact. “But I’m up for it.” A smile spread slowly across his face, Pero’s eyes widening slightly before he closed them, mouth finding yours in a brief - but tender - kiss. 

“Practice is the only way to improve.” Moving his hand from your face to your side, Pero curled his fingers over your hip. “I hope that tonight was what you wanted it to be.” Is he seriously questioning this? 

“It started out kind of rocky, but yeah, Pero. It was.” You paused, thinking. “It is.” It made your head spin to think about everything that had happened throughout the previous evening - and the weeks leading up to it. But it’s worth it. He’s worth it. “How do you feel about this?”

“About this or about you?” He narrowed his eyes, but then grinned. “Because the answer is the same for both: I feel good. This is what I want.” He kissed you again, nodding. “You are what I want.” 

His direct response caught you off guard. But as the kiss continued, his arm winding around you and pulling your body flush against his as you flattened your hand against his back, you understood that it shouldn’t have. If there was anything that you knew to be true about Pero, it was that when he spoke, the words had meaning. It takes him a lot to get there, though.

The kiss ended and as Pero settled back in against the pillow, he yawned, you not far behind. “It is late.” He sighed, moving his leg so that he could hook it over your calf. “We should sleep.” You agreed - you were exhausted, and the warmth and comfort of being in bed next to him was making you drowsy. 

Instead of replying, you tucked your chin and rested your forehead against his collarbone, closing your eyes. I could get used to this. He kissed the top of your head and you felt when he relaxed, the weight of his arm heavy where it laid against your body. I might already be used to this. 

You began to doze off, but were interrupted by the quiet utterance of your name, Pero’s fingers dancing over your lower back. “Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me tonight and making me listen to you.” 

“It wasn’t just me.” You didn’t move your head, speaking the words with your lips just above his skin. “Christina was -”

“She put us in there, but it was all you. You said what I needed to hear, and I know you would not have made so much of an effort if you did not mean it.” He kissed you again, that one lingering. “Please don’t stop doing that.” 

You assured him that you wouldn’t, but the steady beat of his heart was lulling you to sleep, and you didn’t even try to open your eyes. We’ll talk more later. 

The following afternoon, you pulled up in front of William and Lin’s, Pero’s fingers tightly laced with yours on the center console. 

He’d woken up before you - and woken you up with his hands and mouth, Pero trailing touches and kisses over every part of your body that he could reach without disturbing you. From there, you’d had each other again - once in the bed and then again after breakfast, Pero pulling pleasure from you with his fingers in the kitchen before leading you into back into his bedroom. 

You’d showered at his place and changed back into your clothes, which made the stop at your house short, leaving you plenty of time to get to your destination. You hadn’t talked much about what came next, or how you’d present yourselves to your friends. But the fact that they know I left with Pero and didn’t come to get my car was probably telling. 

“Pero, we need to talk about something before we go in.” Shifting in your seat, you squeezed his hand. “What will we tell them? They’re not stupid, but -”

“They are not.” He cocked his head to the side, gesturing at the house with his free hand. “But is it their business? We don’t… we don’t even know what this is, do we?” 

“I know what I’d like it to be.” Pressing your lips together, you took a deep breath. “And what I think it could be, but … it’s only been one night, so maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just say that it’s not something we’re ready to talk about.”

“Then we are on the same page.” He leaned closer, lips curving upward as he smiled. “Maybe we should just wait and see if they ask, and then we decide how to respond.” The same page? Really? It shouldn’t have surprised you, especially with the way Pero had responded to your touch that morning and the previous night. It was obvious there was more to things than just physical attraction, that it hadn’t waned between you after the first time you’d been together. 

You wanted to kiss him in reply, but instead just nodded, giving him a return smile before pulling your hand free. “Want help carrying stuff in? I know you only have a couple presents, but I might as well make myself useful.” He laughed, nodding, and moments later, you were walking side by side up the driveway and toward the door. As the two of you paused on the front step, Pero reached for the doorbell while you froze, eyes on the space just above his head. Shit. Damn you, Lin. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He frowned, and then tilted his head back, looking up, too. “Oh. Is that … what I think it is?” 

“Yes.” You chuckled, looking down and closing your eyes. “That definitely wasn’t there yesterday. I can’t believe she’d put mistletoe up after the diner. It -”

“She is clever.” Pero took a step forward, reaching out to touch your chin. “I should have known.” His gaze dropped to your lips, Pero’s expression thoughtful. “It is tradition.” Heart pounding, you parted your lips and closed the distance between you, your fingers tight around the handle of the gift bag you carried. It is. “And I did say it was not the mistletoe I was saying no to, just the timing.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Pero.” He laughed quietly but did as you asked, his lips warm against yours. You leaned into him, one hand flat against his chest, and your own heart beating wildly behind your ribcage. You meant to pull away quickly, but he didn’t let you - instead moving the hand at your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued to kiss you. He nipped at your lower lip, the bite of his teeth making you gasp. 

But Pero only laughed quietly and did it again before he deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing forward to meet yours and giving you a taste of the mouthwash he’d used at your place. 

“Well that worked out better than I thought it would.” With a jolt, you broke the kiss and whipped your head to the side, finding Lin and William standing in the open doorway, her phone held in her hands. Oh no. “Now I don’t have to ask how last night went.” 

She lowered the device and your attention moved to William, the man’s attempt to hold a laugh back not at all successful. “No, you don’t.” Pero cleared his throat and stepped closer to you, his arm winding around your waist. “And now we don’t have to figure out a way to tell you, either.” 

William laughed and Lin’s eyes widened as they stepped to the side to let you in. Say something. This isn’t what we just talked about. “Pero, I -”

He stopped you with a kiss to the temple as you crossed the threshold, his arm tightening. “This makes things much easier, I think.” 

He wasn’t wrong. William and Lin had seen - firsthand - what they needed to see in order to answer questions about what had happened between you the night before, and about whether or not things were resolved in regard to the contract. They’d still probably ask questions, which was fine. But maybe now they’ll do it in private. You knew you’d say much more just to Lin, and figured that Pero would be the same with William. 

After taking your coats and boots off, the four of you headed into the living room. You and Pero put your gifts beneath the tree with the others and then moved to sit on the couch while William and Lin chose an oversized chair, the woman curling up on his lap. 

Pero lowered himself onto the cushions first, and then, to your surprise, reached up to take your hand, fingers closing around yours before he pulled down on it. Oh. Is he… “Come here.” You sat next to him, leaving very little space between you. He released your hand as you got comfortable, draping his arm across your shoulders and urging you to lean against him. He is. He really… 

You couldn’t help yourself, closing your eyes as you leaned in further to kiss Pero’s stubbled cheek before whispering the words “I like this” into his ear. He hummed, fingers tightening on your shoulder. There was no containing your smile as you straightened up, moving your hand over to rest it on his thigh. I really like this. 

“So.” Lin cleared her throat and then spoke, her eyes bright as she looked between you. “Are we opening presents now, or after we eat?”

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

[justrookthings]

Sorry for the Emmrich content invading my tumblr space that was meant more for my Rooks... I love him so much it's hard for me to stop. As an apology here are my headcanons for all Rook x Companion modernized dates 🥰

Bellara

Take her to your local Library that has a Cafe and just spend the whole day with her between the romance section and the non-fiction section. Be prepared to hold a lot of books for her. Maybe stop by the arcade on the way home? But make sure to take your Polaroid camera with you because if there is an interesting abandoned building nearby she will to want to explore that, too. Wear something comfy. Jeans, hoodie (if it's cold), pack an extra hoodie because she probably forgot hers.

Davrin

First he'll probably take you to the gym, because he's excited to show you how much he can bench press while he's talking about how much of a dog person he used to be until he adopted his cat. Afterwords he will take you to the park and start talking about the farm his uncle pretty much raised him on before he joined the military. Eventually he will take you to his place for the ultimate test: Wether or not the cat likes you. Once you pass that, he'll turn on the grill.

Emmrich

You probably met him at the Library, so he will likely find this a comfortable place to meet with you a few times until he decides one day to take you on a real date at some fancy expensive place you can maybe not afford. He keeps insisting on paying for the meal "it's really no trouble, trust me" and refuses to show you the bill. Then he will take you for a drive, except he's not driving, his butler/chauffeur/manservant Manfred will be. He might talk a bit about himself but he will mostly do so to ask questions about you instead. He takes you to his "small homely" estate and completely passes the home theater, bar, and pool to show off his personal library.

Harding

She's a country gal! She doesn't care for fancy dinners or expensive wines. She might act like she does initially because she's a people pleaser, but she can't fake it forever. She takes you to a cheese shop and gets the stinkiest cheese she can find and insists you try some with her. Then she'll probably reveal she'd rather go hiking or camping instead of fancy dinner dates. But real hiking and real camping with compasses and maps, fire starters, a small tent, sleeping bags, and an old emergency Nokia just in case. Then you get to find out who the real Harding is as she's showing off her yodeling skills at the top of a mountain (non snowcapped), and her bow skills.

Lucanis

The first date might be to Olive Garden on your recommendation, but he will scowl one too many times at the wine selection and the food then insist on taking you someplace better. He takes you to a very expensive looking Italian restaurant with "actually authentic Italian" food. And even though you show up in jeans and a nice sweater (because you were dressed for Olive Garden, not a reservation-only restaurant) they recognize Lucanis and immediately allow the both of you in. Turns out that this is his family's restaurant. They only judge you for a month or so for trying to take Lucanis to Olive Garden.

Neve

She's a private investigator and it's likely she won't have a lot of time for dates. Either they are few and far between or she gets up and leaves in the middle of an awkward one because she was thinking about the case. As such, dinner dates are discouraged and she prefers taking a walk in the park and hanging out by the river as she skips stones across the water. When she finally does have free time and isn't thinking about a case, she likes to grab something to eat from a street vendor and people watch for a while. She doesn't seem comfortable talking about herself because she hates answering questions about her involvement in the papers.

Taash

What's the point in dates and small talk? Taash doesn't care for it. They'll take you to their apartment and insist on watching something on Netflix or whatever, laugh about memes/short form videos they found, or, you know, wherever the mood goes. Will take you to meet their mother pretty quickly, because it's "go big or go home." Either you stick around or you don't. Also don't expect them to dress up. Dates should be comfortable.

[itstobias149]

Oc Song Associations

Okay so- I don't have the brain cells to draw everybody's oc SOOO in just gonna tag you and explain! This will probably be a multi part thing!

This is songs that Marie would associate with you oc, and sure some are modern songs, so wouldn’t fit the the time line, but they slap- so fight me. I hope you guys enjoy! Cause I had a lot of fun doing this. This also contains some headcanons about your charters cause, I think they are neat! Some might have more than other, it’s currently like 3am-4am so-I’m super eppy so please excuse any gramma mistakes 👉👈✨

Ps: Marie is a simp, also question:

It’s 3am, rainy, and cold. Why does your character show up outside her door?

(Just need to know for art reasons)

Clementine

Clementine is @bazooka-overkill oc who is the manager for Mr.Sandman. I feel (hope) Marie and Clem are good friends. Clem helps Marie step away from time to time and regather herself. I feel that Marie would feel some type of bond, couldn’t place a finger on it though. I feel that he is just a good person who can be really grounding in all the chaos. Why this song? I… I really can’t explain it. It just makes sense in my mind, it oddly gives me grounding vibes. It’s a good chill out and look at the calling song.

Jacko

Jacko is a Greek boxer who belongs to @star-bliss8 ! Super loving kind guy, he’s a hugger not a fighter. (He’s a boxer lol) I feel like he’s a big pleasure to work with and has a high emotional intelligence, regardless of language barriers. I think Jacko and Marie definitely hang out outside of the rink, maybe had lunch from time to time. I assigned Se Thello, which is like one of my favorite songs. Antique is a really good early 2000s Greek group, highly recommend if you like pop it love songs. They have songs in both English and Greek.

Garcia

Garcia is a Mexican boxer who belongs to @hol-ymoly ! I sense a confident and collected man, friendly and committed. I feel like Garcia is one of Marie’s favorite boxers to work with because he is respectful. I feel like he’s keeps his opinions to himself and plays the bigger man. He definitely also always smells nice, I feel like he just looks like the kinda guy who smells good. So I assigned another one of my favorite songs. I think it’s to the correlation of handling emotions.

Barry

This man, creature- belongs to @stonedragonisnthere . Barry is a just a corrupt talk show honest, what more is there to say. He’s a smooth talker, quick witted (can be), and slick. I feel like Marie wouldn’t really consume his media, but as soon as she found out, she would be mad. But soon enough she would just roll her eyes and sigh, it’s how the world works. She wouldn’t agree with what he does, but would definitely be interested in the why. So she would definitely bring him around to pick his brain. Boom- the whisky blues vibes match his personality in her mind, plus he has to have a dark heart to do what he does.

Marie

Marie who is @nai418 character is a red in training! I love this character so much, definitely one of my favorites. Marie is shy, and kind, and sadly gets pushed around way too much. Marie(mine) would definitely stand up for her, and patch her up when things go south. I also could see things hanging out a lot. The Marie’s would be funny, someone calls out ‘Marie!’ And they both would come running. I would say Magnolia would be a good song, I feel like Marie(my Marie) adores her, definitely in a platonic way.

Pilsner

Pilsner is a Czech boxer who belongs to @thorkelsongirl . I love this man. Marie would love this man, doesn’t matter how hard he tries to be be tough, she would see through it. He is definitely a guy she would check on. Knowing he has stuff going on she would always try to comfort him, maybe not infront of the others cause she wouldn’t want to embarrass him. She would definitely stay up talking to him, even if it takes every language translating app or book. She would wanna know his story. She would associate ‘she will be loved’ with him, no matter what if he needed her, she would be there. End of story.

Mary Ryan

Mary Ryan is the sibling of Aran Ryan, created by @artformationcoreir . Love this little rascal! So spunky, so full of life and energy. Once Marie met Mary she would spoil her. She would definitely hype the girl up, glad that she has confidence. Marie would probably take her out for girls days to get her out and about. Definitely would associate Mary with Just a girl by no doubt! Good vibes, matches Mary’s energy big time-

Perry

Mm, yes. YOUSIF- Perry belongs to @abigblackfly and is Aran Ryan’s manager. Definitely off the walls sarcastic guy. But a good guy at heart, regardless of how much he is dragged up the wall. Marie would definitely be friends with Perry, especially when she had a decent friendship with Ryan. Marie and Perry would probably play pool together and talk about the weekly drama. Perry would remind her of “my alcoholic friends”which has that sarcastic energy he carries.

Roxy

Roxy is an Australian boxer that belongs to @luc1ano03 . I really like the design! I feel they are a pretty chill person but still bring the chaos energy. They are the goblincore alt friend to Marie, and Marie is here for it. I feel like Marie can be a little more comfortable in her alt grandmacore way around them. Have her hair down, put in her piercings, and just hang out other. ‘Ripe’ by screaming females, just screaming females in general would remind Marie of them, it’s a good band!

Pale Phantom

Pale phantom is a boxer charater created by @shykittensoul . I love his design and he seems so sweet honestly. I think Marie would see him and just be like,”This is my child now… thanks-“. He seems to be just a sweet kid character, and she would just adore that. She would probably make him stuff all the time like scarfs, sweaters, and so on. I feel like “not while I’m around” from Sweeney Todd would be how she is like, ‘this is my baby, and I shall protect him-‘

Wolf

Wolf Viking (Luke) is a Swedish boxer created by @leonscottwolfkennedy . Love the big locked in eyes tbh. Marie would do her best to calm his anxiety, and definitely try to help him find some ways to cope. Definitely another person who would be welcome anytime, into her home. She would be very gentle with him. One of the boxers she would bring things like snacks for. I think Marie would associate ‘Forward Beckons Rebounds’ by Adrianne Lenker. (I reached the song limit, sorry I couldn’t add it.) it definitely has the caring feel she would have.

Anyways I hope you guys liked this! Might do more, idk. I’m gonna sleep now-

[kradogsrats]

Oh! I think about this a lot, though I'm not really sure why besides that how people make decisions about children is inherently kind of interesting to me.

The Aaravos situation is unusual in that there's a relatively short timeline attached to it—they aren't putting off having children until some nebulous future time when there might finally not be some kind of crisis somewhere, they're putting it off for seven years, at which point they will be... all of 25 years old, which is generally considered to be a much better time to have a baby than 19 or 20. I've read stuff in other fandoms where the decision of whether to have a child during a time of threatened world crisis becomes about weighing the risks of the child growing up without one or both parents, or growing up in a dangerous and war-torn environment, or not growing up at all against the risk that the world will simply never be sufficiently safe. With a definite finality of "within ten years, either we have stopped Aaravos for good or the world has ended"... they might as well wait, which may or may not be bittersweet depending on how badly they want to get started.

(One thing that's interestingly vague about this setting is what/when is considered to be "adulthood." That's a number that has been pushed later and later in modern times, which is not a bad thing! However, looking at the characters themselves—Rayla is functionally a child soldier at 15, and Soren is already an officer in the Crownguard at 18, meaning he probably joined and was expected to be ready to die for his king at 16 or earlier. Callum being High Mage to Ezran makes sense, but is also literally putting a teenager in a government cabinet position. What makes all of that slightly less weird is that culturally, here in real world USAmerica and/or Canada, we have essentially added an entire new stage of non-adult life after 18, during which you are expected to figure out a career trajectory of some kind. When you remove the expectation of higher education from the question, "I have already launched my lifelong career at 16" works a little better. At that point, "I will start a family at 20-21" also sounds less insane because they've already been operating as an adult for several years.)

Anyway what I think would be really interesting about the whole question is the competing influences on both sides—Janai and Amaya explicitly get married during Karim's rebellion because she's "done putting off the good things for fear of the bad," and I think Ethari and Runaan would have a thought or two about waiting for the time to be "right" versus valuing yourselves and your family. Bringing a child into the world is obviously a bit different from getting married, but I think the "don't let the evil in the world dictate when you can seize joy" philosophy could still apply.

On the other hand, you have the personal experiences of Callum, Rayla, and Ezran with having absent parents. Callum lost his father as a young child, then his mother not long after, and was raised by his stepfather. Ezran never had a mother in his life, and lost his father, as well. One set of Rayla's parents left to defend the world and never came back. I think they'd all have some Big Feelings about those things—most obviously Rayla's parents, as the obvious closest analogue to their situation, but also like... it's at least kind of implied that Sarai and Damian had a child despite both of them knowing that he would likely not live to see that child grow up. I think it's unlikely that Callum doesn't feel Some Kind Of Way about that. Parental loss/abandonment trauma affects basically every character in this entire story, and while they all deal with it a bit differently... they all gotta deal with it.

(And of course, if you want to get extra angsty—what happens if suddenly OOPS ALL PREGNANT? What if it's in year one post-s7 versus year six post-s7? Do they keep the baby? Do they let Aaravos prevent them from keeping a child who is otherwise wanted? I feel like that's a much harder choice than whether to start trying for one.)

Rayllum, 10 babies and Xadian family planning

I’m trying to post the next chapter of Dark Alternative, but AO3 is very wonky, so you’re going to be subjected to my rambling thoughts on my new WIP for Work in Progress Wednesday.

So, over my vacation, I’ve been plagued by post-season 7 fanfic ideas. Short fics, obviously. No more than three chapters, as usual.

What’s got me intrigued right now, is how the continent of Xadia, or at least, a select group of people, will manage with living with the knowledge that Aaravos, in some form, is coming back in seven years. How would that affect politics and society, as well as the individual characters and the choices they make knowing that?

The regular folks would struggle to miss that whole eternal darkness and dead creatures thing that happened, but what do they know about exactly what went down?

And what do they know about what’s to come?

You know me, I’m a Rayllum person, so pretty much any fic of mine is a Rayllum fic, and this current idea is focused on how this particular threat affects the next stage of their lives.

Without a doubt, when we last saw Rayllum they were totally committed to each other and are fully ride or die… but how would that devotion relate to their future, in particular, the subject of children?

Now, I’m an angster in my deep dark heart, so while I’m sure many people could conceive of a fic where Rayllum are secure in their ability to defeat Aaravos come round two, that ain’t where my brain was ever going to go.

Rayllum are in love and clearly want a future together. Callum was openly planning a quaint little one in the Silvergrove before they were rudely interrupted by the whole end of the world dealio.

So, where does that leave them now (in my angsty reality anyway)?

In their youth, they both leaned into their more paranoid natures (Rayla leaving without Callum in TTM and Callum getting physical with Soren in season 4), and while they’ve both grown and matured since then, would such a threat as the world ending be enough to bring that paranoia right on back?

Which leaves me with my current fic planning conundrum.

Assuming Rayllum decided to forego the whole having kids thing until Aaravos is imprisoned again, how likely is it that they could plan when to have a family.

I’ve seen people say that the world of The Dragon Prince is in a medieval setting, and so people had children younger then, which, aside from not being the entire story, doesn’t feel like it really applies to a world with magic and dragons, a world that lacks the sexism and gender roles that are also associated with medieval times or other more grounded works set then.

Additionally, looking at canon, I think it could be reasonably argued that some form of birth control is readily available in the setting. In fact, I think it’s likely multiple forms of birth control exist in the world of The Dragon Prince.

From humans to elves, we don’t see large families normally associated with the inability to plan a family via the use of effective birth control. The “largest” family we see are the Sunfire monarchs, with three children. Viren and Lissa had two children only. Sarai may well have had more children had she lived, but Rayla’s parents spent multiple years at the Storm Spire and she remained an only child.

I can’t imagine there’s much in the way of entertainment at the Storm Spire either. Sure, they could abstain or get creative, but oof, hasn’t enough been asked of them?

Even looking at prior generations, we do not see large families. Given the closeness in ages of the siblings we know of, it also seems unlikely to me that children were lost in childbirth or to childhood illnesses.

To me, it seems far more likely that family planning is active in Xadia and would be a tool Callum and Rayla could exercise.

Clearly, no birth control is infallible (or I guess it can be, magic and all) and I assume Miyana’s twins were unplanned.

Personally, I head canon Rayla herself was an oopsie baby in order to further explain the complications of her parents being called away to join the Dragon Guard.

Where am I going with this? I don’t even know anymore.

I suppose, to me, it’s not a foregone conclusion that in seven years Rayllum would have a kid (or indeed multiple). The setting of the world doesn’t imply that it’s particularly difficult to prevent pregnancy. In fact, the small families imply to me that family planning is a cultural norm among elves and humans.

Faced with the imminent threat of Aaravos’ return, would Rayllum plan to start a family? Certainly, people put off having children for far lesser reasons.

We also don’t know how using dark magic, even in that limited capacity, has affected Callum and the potential for him to get possessed again. It was clearly enough to physically mark him, but does that go deeper?

Would imprisoning Aaravos once again result in an inevitable possession?

Not great when Dad gets taken over and abandons the family.

Or worse, Mum has to take him out.

Angsty though!

As usual, I’ll be doing my own thing in my fics, but I’m interested to see where Arc 3 goes with this (optimistically assuming we get it). There are a lot of factors at play to explain why we might see a lot of the characters in a state of stasis. Seven years isn’t that long when you’re facing the world ending, after all. Particularly when you’re likely to play a very active part in trying to stop that returning apocalypse.

So, which way to go? I see the angst potential in both.

On one hand, you’ve got the pain and desperation of protecting your kid from a returned Aaravos, or perhaps worse, a possessed Dad.

But on the other, you’ve got two people who likely want to take the next steps in their lives, but feel the pressure of a ticking bomb haunting them and potentially preventing them from moving forward.

Either way, bring on the pain.

[zshiftsrealities]

INTRODUCING — zshiftsrealities

hi and welcome to my blog! I made this blog for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for myself to gather my thoughts, and put them into materialistic form to understand myself better, and how I view shifting/manifesting through my own lens, so those will be the topics of discussion in most of my posts. i'll be happy to know if any of my takes and views align with your own. and in the case that your ideas differ from mine, I totally understand. just please be respectful, and enjoy your stay!

personal info:

name : zimmal (you can just call me z, i'd prefer that)

age : 17 (turning 18 this sept)

pronouns : she/her

I'm not really sure about my personality type, but the last time I took a test it said INTJ so, that's that. I am south asian, and a Muslim. my views and ideas on shifting/manifestation that I share here will be based on my own religious views, and if that's uncomfortable for you, you can leave.

I am kind of awkward, and not good at making convos so bear with me, and please don't think that I don't wanna talk/am bored. I love talking to new people and making friends.

more about me:

my favorite colors are black and wine red. I also fancy all dark/muted shades of every color. I love watching the moon, walking around in nature, antique stores and buildings, modern and sleek architecture — everything. and omg rain. I LOVE rainy days.

I am an avid watcher of anime, kdramas, and honestly watch anything that piques my interest. I love watching anything related to highschool + summer and love how that chapter of life is depicted in media, and I wish to experience something like that atleast once. this is the reason i've started to prefer summers over winters aswell.

I don't have a favorite genre in particular, but I mostly prefer romance, action and "doomed love" trope over any other (though it makes me ball my eyes out. this is the reason i've been avoiding watching so many shows lol).

also, I love dreaming. any chance that I get, you would see me tucking myself into bed and preparing to go to sleep (though i'm afraid I might be slightly insomniac). I don't do it to escape reality (hopefully), but because I get to experience so many different lives each time my head hits the pillow. so yeah, shifting definitely found me for a reason, and I plan on being successful at it very soon.

shifting journey:

though I had been in the shifting community since late 2021, I left around early 2023. I only rejoined the community around october 2024. in the beginning, I had plenty of doubts regarding shifting, which was part of the reason I left. but now, doing my own research, and finding out what shifting is to me helped me alot, and I can proudly say that my doubts have pretty much vanished.

I have not shifted yet! however, I have had (as I believe) two mini shifts, and other small experiences that I have yet to share. currently, i'm more focused on shifting through lucid dreaming and working towards that. any progress that I make will be shared here!

as of now, I have two drs that i'm pretty much done scripting.

• mha dr (main dr)

• jjk dr

I might or might not introduce my drs here. I think it's probably just about being comfortable with putting out such info since shifting is personal to every individual, but in the instance that I do introduce them, I will be sure to link them here! just did, go check them out!

dni criteria:

do not interact if you're an anti-shifter (the rude ones), force your beliefs onto others, or disrespect other people's beliefs, or are a weird and hateful person in general. also if you're a katsuki hater, leave (I do not like you).

I am very infrequent with posting, and only post when I have an epiphany (lol), so yeah. I also am a neat freak and try my best to make my blog look pretty, so I hope you'll like what you see. and that's pretty much it. thank you for reading!

[octosan]

Working on one of the videos for my drinking game series and I got mad and wrote a whole rant that I realized was a little too much for a drinking game post.

I just hate this script so much you guys. I hate SO MUCH how much they simplified the dialogue, the worldbuilding, the puzzle solving in this game.

I've seen a lot of complaints about fans being illiterate towards the story and to that I say of course they are! The game doesn't ask them to think! Rather than throwing up your hands saying "maybe they had a good reason to dumb down the dialogue and spoonfeed you this stuff"

consider that critical thinking is a muscle

and players do not exercise it when the game is afraid you will forget the core premises of the game, or individual missions, and so repeat them constantly.

When your companions all get along and share the same basic principles beyond bland culture differences, and their principles are all ones deemed acceptable to "modern" audiences, so you never have to think about what life experiences might have led them to feel that way.

When you have your companions constantly patting you and the other companions on the back and saying "nice job!!" in combat as if we wouldn't understand that they are friends otherwise.

When you constantly have characters make juvenile comments like "this is evil, even for the venatori!" or "they did that just for power?/greed?" or "man this makes me hate the venatori even more!" (even more?? these are fantasy nazis!!! you didn't hate them already??) and then don't give the evil factions any nuance because they're afraid you won't get that these factions are eeeeeevil. (The Venatori were never very nuanced outside Calpernia but at least there was lip service that they were a symptom of broader issues, not the convenient cause.)

When you're constantly explaining to the player how many blight pustules they still need to pop, how many crystals you have left, and oh!! the gate's open now! go through the gate! or look! there are darkspawn there where your camera is already pointed! Even late in the game they were doing this! Even at the end of Bellara's questline she was explaining that laser mechanic to me!

When they present you with lore reveals that have been highly anticipated for decades, as well as multiple memories which are meant to add to our interpretation of a core character, and they literally just tell you what to think about them and how to interpret them, at length, in that godawful regret questline. (And tbh even Solas' memories in the Crossroads did not tell me anything I did not already know)

And then Mythal saying "hey those murals are not 100% reliable memories" in a single missable dialogue option that we don't address any further, rendering even that agonizing bit of handholding pointless. Like okay what does it MATTER that they are not 100% reliable? because the redemption ending relies on your interpretations of it being 100% correct!! what purpose does that line serve except to give the writers deniability?

When you don't even bother to GIVE new worldbuilding details when they could absolutely be relevant at the time, except when it makes the writers' job easier like "turlum" or Bellara's clan's funeral practices being indistinguishable from ancient elven ones even though that's literally not what we were told about Dalish practices in the past, guess the Emerald Graves don't exist anymore-. Like just as one example that has stuck in my head, Elgy and Ghilly use terms like The Blight, Archdemons, Darkspawn, the Crossroads, etc. despite being from time periods that predate those terms and presumably having their own words for those same concepts. You can't tell me that Ghilly honestly thinks of her beloved hell children as "darkspawn", or that she would tolerate other people calling them that. You can't tell me that Elgy would agree to call his instrument of reshaping the world, which he is trying to convince people is a good thing, the Blight.

When the game actively punishes people who are familiar with the prior materials with their worldbuilding, punishes people who are reading the codex entries and looking for minor throwaway lines that acknowledge previous shit like the fact that Crows are literally tortured as part of their training and killed if they fail contracts, by having it not be remotely relevant to the story and make it much harder to have the appropriate reaction to what's happening in it (like Rook has no choice but to be happy Jacobus is taking in more orphan crows??) This is low-hanging fruit but it's so illustrative of what I mean.

What other outcome is this all going to have but players who do not look further than the surface? Who miss and ignore little details they have been trained to think do not matter and largely do not inform the broader story and characters? Players who are easily stumped on puzzles because they were not allowed to figure anything else out by themselves?

Are you going to claim that the Orzammar questline in Origins didn't teach anybody a lesson about paying close attention to the social structures and culture of a society when you pick the person who's going to rule it, as opposed to picking the guy who the narrative frames as wise and kind and the other guy framed as a power hungry third child? Are you going to claim that the Archon choice teaches anything remotely as useful?

Like!!!!

GOD

Inquisition had plenty of this stupid handholding too btw. You can argue all of the games had it by degrees. but it wasn't even remotely this bad.

[maruyaaya]

some of my random neomachus headcanons bc i think abt them a lot while writing and sometimes just scrawl random notes like these in my notes app

neo is two years older than telemachus (it’s so hard to put greek mythology on a timeline but the way it makes the most sense to me is that achilles and deidamia have neo when achilles is 15 and then 2 years later, the trojan war starts and 17 year old achilles and 18/19 year old patroclus go to war. telemachus is born at round the start of the trojan war since he is 20 when odysseus returns and his journey took 20 years. so in the war’s tenth year, neo is 12 and telemachus is 10. so in my neomachus fic, neo is 22 and telemachus is 20)

neo is taller. neo has his father’s build so he’s tall and lean like achilles. i think telemachus takes after odysseus' height and he's rather short (still a little bit taller than odysseus though)

both neo and telemachus look like their fathers but with their mothers colourings. neo has deidamia’s red hair but achilles’ hazel eyes. telemachus has penelope’s blue eyes but odysseus’ brown hair.

sparring is their love language. neo wins nearly every single time, but it's a way for them to show affection

telemachus is a words of affirmation love language while neo is an acts of service love language

telemachus is really into physical touch. he’ll just randomly put his arm around neo’s shoulders or something like that and neo will fucking blue screen

modern au neo only listens to like mcr and føb. telemachus is a paramore stan. if they were on stantwt, they would hate each other—they'd get into so many stan wars and they'd be pqrting each other with death threats. telemachus would probably write a cancel thread on neo. then they'd fall in love and e-date

neo is surprisingly clingy and jealous. he def has attachment issues so whenever he sees telemachus getting along with someone (which is often bc telemachus is very charismatic and likeable), he starts to get all huffy and pouty. i think they'd probably fight over this bc telemachus hates it when neo is jealous, but neo can't help it

they bond over daddy issues. both of them had absent fathers and they love to talk shit abt their dads (they do love their dads, but sometimes it's aggravating)

neo is the epitome of guard dog privilege. he has resting bitch face and he constantly looks like he has murder on the mind. nobody dares to approach him and telemachus when neo is scowling

neo is very musically inclined while telemachus is tone deaf and it is the funniest thing ever to me. i imagine nobody has ever told telemachus that he's tone deaf so he honestly has no idea. neo will never ever tell him

on the other hand, i imagine telemachus being artistically inclined while neo cannot even draw a stick figure. idk i just really love the idea of them both being talented in different art forms. i think telemachus would be pretty good at writing as well, but he has godawful printing while neo has small, neat printing

telemachus is very charismatic while neo is very socially awkward and struggles with social cues. telemachus likes to fuck with him and tease him because neo is very oblivious. neo will never pick up on telemachus’ flirting. he has to hear I Am In Love With You in order to understand that telemachus is seriously flirting with him

TELEMACHUS IS SO TOTALLY A BOOK LOVER he reads like 100 books a year and he loves to read every genre though he particularly loves fantasy as well as litfic. if this is a modern au, i feel like neo is not a reader but instead is a film snob. they’re the goodreads x letterboxd dynamic

speaking of, telemachus would totally be a horror enjoyer to me. he just finds it so fun. i think neo also enjoys horror but not as much as telemachus

SO MANY OF THESE HAVE BEEN MODERN AU IM SORRY idk i just really love thinking abt modern au headcanons those are so fun ok ill leave this at that for now

[meltedvinyls]

lets talk about my fictional worlds vampirisms

@gloomygambit thank u for the excuse

So theres 3 main types of vampire

Original Bloodline Vampires

have become endagered over time due to frequent targeting of mob-mentality and a history of "villianous" and "unorthodox" lifestyles

born from 2 OG vampires think like debutantes they would have elegant marrige arrangements often to help continue the species

Changed Vampires

These are the vampires made by OG vamps through ritual and with intention they are considered full vampires after transformation

they maintain their psyche but have a 50/50 survival rate some cant recover from the trauma of transformation or injuries obtained during the turning

often used as a way to keep og vampires alive via doing the dangerous/difficult work for them under the debt of being immortal/being turned

50/50 rate of voluntary and involuntary turnings through history, though at the point we come in all turnings by the observed og vamps are semi-voluntary or done via misleading

yes vampirism SA allgory i am a CSA/COCSA/SA survivor and it means alot to me to represent my ptsd in a way that i control

Accidental Turnings

these are what youd call feral vampires

accidental turnings do not invlude all of the ritual steps or safegaurds involved in intentional turnings so the result is a creature with a blind lust for blood and little to no consiousness aside from carnage

accidental turnings are less common in 'modern' vampirism and typiclaly come from CVs who dont realise if you drink from someone and they get your blood in their mouth or wound it can result in them being turned

yes vampirism is essentially an std in the way it us contracted through blood contact

there are around 50 remaining og vampires globally and 1/5 of them are involved in the innerr circle that belladonna keeps sustained through puppeting a mob operation (she has a human man as the public boss/mob father but really she is running things and he is fully in her pocket)

i hope you enjoyed my ramblings lmk if you have any questions or wanna know about lychanthrope which is a genetic condition in my fiction okay bye