#it was good to write about these characters again

[strandedtoodeep]

Poolverine fics rec' ✨

Yes, FINALLY.

So, basically what the title said: some poolverine's fics recommendation because i have nearly 100 bookmarks and sharing is caring so let's go!

I'll put title, link, tag the author (if they are on tumblr), numbers of words & chapters and probably silly summary or thoughts

I'll be adding some in the future with a red exclamation❗

The one without smut have a bunny emoji 🐰

My faves are on top

If you have some recs i'm happy to take them thank you 🤲

Faves

Come Hell or High Water by @farmhandler 84k, 11 ch. || love when a fic take mental health seriously and talk about it in a way that feel so right? (bonus the smut is *chef's kiss*

Promise Me We'll Be Back In Time by @back4destiel 108k, 17 ch. || 50 First Dates was one of my favorite movie when i was a preteen (yeah) so this fic fill me with nostalgia and happiness

where soul meets body by @edgebug 33k, 3 ch. || one of my first poolverine's fic and it sets the bar so HIGH (and tbh i cried so much reading it, it's concerning)

silence is what i do best (but still i hear it all) by @cainroses 25k, 3 ch. || feral! logan is very dear to me and the character's voices in it?? absolutely delightful (beware the smut is very good but spicy)

Until you get sick of me, honestly by @3koboldsinahoodie 101k, 20ch. (on going) || i love it so much i want to forget it and discovers it again, the peak of two idiots in love it's beautiful

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) by @wickedscribbles 16k, 4 ch. || love some genderplay, bottom and protective logan, my dear, i love it but most importantly the writings is scrumptious

The Void by @rovingotter 115k, 23 ch. || i'm still trying to process what i feel with this fic, please please read this blindly and i assure you, you'll never be the same

The Soundtrack by @greatsnakestintin 39k, 14 ch. (on going) || love a good road trip fic, love music so it's absolutely perfect for me! and the plot is so?? fascinating???

Kaleidoscope by Space_wanderer 69k, 13 ch. (on going) || CHAPPELL ROAN REFERENCE! when Logan is such a idiot Wade need to go get him AGAIN in his universe

Don't you want me to run? by @decaying-lover 54k, 17 ch. (on going) || if you love angst, this fic will serve you ANGST! love their dynamics, the tension, their voices, everything

On going

Girl Dads by @starburstsobsessions 35k, 14 ch. || AU poolverine's fic are fire and this one, THIS ONE, omg! this fic makes my dream (aka seeing dilf! logan) a reality

Somewhere I belong by @terrasilvershade 24k, 6ch. || another girls dad AU but this one, my god!!! the feels?? it's so interesting to see Logan being envious and it's writing so well

Baby(girl) Don't Hurt Me by @peargreen-jellybean 16k, series with 4 works || 4 fics and i love them all! some good poolverine pining & domestic bliss + men in lingeries (my weakness)

In Another Life by @flash-bastardd 32k, 10 ch. || x-men origins but better! (bc it's gay) i have some feelings with this movie but this fic healed me and i love it!

🐰 Take Me Through the Darkness to the Break of the Day by The_Colour_Yellow 16k, 9 ch. || a very good fic around hanahaki disease with my two favorites idiots??? sign me in! even with so much hurt and angst UGH

call me when you’re ready to be real by @maroonmused 23k, 9 ch. || "and they were roommates" ofc like it's not absolutely obvious for EVERYONE except themself; a very good domestic bliss!

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You by @cuntylogan 45k, 2 ch. || bartender! logan who try to fight his addiction (and slowly fall in love) has a special place in my heart, you go boy

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by @fictionfeast 42k, 3 ch. || this fic feels like a fever dream, but a OH SO GOOD and well writing fever dream! (ngl as a french person Craig List scares me)

Complete

🐰 the dollhouse by @kanashikute 4k, OS || love the fluffiness in this fic, love how Logan accept to love, be loved and doesn't left Wade behind UGH they're so cute in this one!!!

🐰 Glass Shards by greaserbabes 9k, 2 ch. || always love when Logan and Wade are SO STUPIDLY in love; ngl the scene with the glass shards make me cry every time

🐰 The Folly Of Playing Gay Chicken Too Hard (Phrasing) by GayLord3000 3k, OS || the domestic fic where Wade is the stupid one, being so stupid in fact it's nearly cost him his relationship with Logan whoops

Love shot by lillygoeson 28k, 6ch. || another bartender! logan one, but AU no powers AND with a good "twist" in the middle; this fic is so bittersweet and good oml

look at you by @weedwilson 3k, OS || yes it's shameless smut and mirror sex, my beloved... and I LOVE when Logan worshipping Wade this much bc he deserves it

It's Just Chemistry by @farmhandler 37k, 5 ch. || in the same universe of Come Hell or High Water, there is so... so much angst but it's very good angst!!! still love this specific dynamic

🐰 We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by @nikaandtea 8k, OS || HOZIER REFERENCE! i'm still so happy when a fic talk about chronic pain combined with domestic bliss i'm totally sold

Night Terrors by educatedwish 50k, 13 ch. || love how Logan is written is this fic, how PTSD messed with his feelings in a serious way... my heart melt everytime i read it

second nature to me now by @edgebug 36k, OS || a investigation in a gay club??? with my two idiots in love?? and with old gay Logan? i giggled so hard reading this, i LOVE IT

🐰 It Feels Like Home by @twentyghosts 10k, 6 ch. || one of my favorite trope is the 5+1 and this one... my god, right in the feels! so much fluffiness, coziness, it warm my heart

🐰 stuck by the glue (oh and you) by prngslvr 3k, OS || a good rewriting of (some scenes) from DP&W, and one of my first fluff and non-smut fic that i read after watching the movie!

Let Me Get Back to You by ratflavored 14k, 2 ch. || pls i want to read more fics with phone sex in it (i know it's specific) but in the meantime, this one is SO good (and full of feels too)

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier 10k, OS || i have a thing for time loop and this kind of fuckery, it's short but good and i love the title it make me chuckles

Oh, God, I Think I'm Fallin' by @slut-arc 15k, 5 ch. || the return of domestic poolverine and YES I KNOW but it's my weakness... and Logan is so emotionally constipated it's concerning

the bucket list by @kanashikute 33k, 4 ch. || read this one, please, really, it's so bittersweet BUT i promise there's a good ending (and i cried so much while reading it)

🐰 he’s the headlights, I’m the deer by NatalieK 7k, OS || it's interesting to see Logan's losing his healing factor for once instead of Wade! and seeing Wade taking care of him, my heart

🐰 holding out for a hero by @splinnters 6k, 3 ch. || once again, i have a soft spot for Logan trusting Wade so much he called him when something is wrong and this, THIS is good

🐰 I've got some color back (he thinks so too) by @mid13s 3k, OS || just a short fic with non-sexual intimacy because these two need comfort, hugs and a lot of affection (and the Hozier reference is chef's kiss)

[tourettesdog]

Beta Reading and Fanfiction

I’ve been writing for a long time myself, but it’s only been very recently that I’ve immersed myself in communities online for it. I’ve been having so much fun really diving into Danny Phantom and DPxDC fanfic, and I’ve met so many great friends doing so.

I mostly do my own writing, but I’ve really enjoyed doing some beta reading as well, especially for friends! There’s something so fun about getting to dive into a work in progress and help where you can.

But I do feel like some people might really struggle to understand how to beta read, or what makes a good beta reader— especially where fanfiction is concerned. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have wonderful beta readers, but I’ve had some friends frustrated with the beta reading they’ve in turn received, or otherwise feeling uncomfortable in asking for a beta reader since they don’t know what to expect.

So, how should beta reading work? How do you do a good job?

Above all, the most important thing about beta reading is communication with your author. You are not in their WIP to prove how good of a writer you are, or to hammer their work into what you would personally be proud to present online. You are there to help, in whatever way the author has asked or communicated they're comfortable with.

Before you beta read anything it is vital to ask what the author is looking for in a beta reader. There are a number of things you can ask in particular, including:

What are you looking for help with?

Do you just want me to look for typos or confusing sentences?

Do you want suggestions for things to add?

Do you want suggestions on grammar, or other more in-depth writing suggestions?

Do you need help with characterization, or even the plot?

Depending on who you are beta reading for, you might have someone who only wants a very light beta touch. They might just want you to look for glaring mistakes, or for confirmation that a plot beat makes sense. 

Other authors might want something much more involved! They might be trying to improve their grammar, or perhaps they're not very familiar with writing a new character and they would like suggestions for how to better capture their voice.

Regardless of what an author wants in a beta reader, you won't know unless you ask them! It's possible that you simply might not be compatible as beta reader and author, depending on their answer, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay to step back and say "I personally like to beta read things more in depth than this, so I might not be the best person to give it a look."

Otherwise, getting an answer about your author's preferences can help you figure out how to help them. Perhaps you would normally make more suggestions, but if an author has specified that they're not comfortable with that, then it's not your job as their beta reader to do so. If you are capable of sticking to the help they've asked for, then you will ultimately be fulfilling your role as their beta reader admirably.

"But I'm just trying to help. Their work has a lot of places it could improve!"

Again, beta reading is not about shaping a story into something you would personally present as your writing. It is about helping the author produce a story they're comfortable with and proud of.

It's not about being right, or heavily criticizing their writing and grammar abilities (unless this is what the author has explicitly requested!)

Especially while writing fanfiction, the work presented is not something that will ever see publishing, or that needs to have flawless grammar and syntax. This is work done for free, and it is done for fun.

And that's something very vital to beta reading—

A beta reader needs to preserve the fun.

It's very daunting, putting your work out there for others. It's especially daunting putting your work up for analysis of any kind. You're accepting that people might not understand your vision, or may judge you for what you've written.

It's all too easy to compare yourself to other creatives online, and to overthink and overanalyze your talents. Too often, it’s easy to get discouraged and feel like your work isn’t good enough.

Beta reading should never be done in a way that will discourage writing. Even if an author has asked for a lot of help, it’s important to pick your battles with what you choose to analyze, and to check in with them if you feel like you might be crossing boundaries or covering their work in too much metaphorical red ink.

When people are trying to improve their writing, you don’t always have to mark every little suggestion you think of. Unless the author is a friend you know well, or has explicitly asked for Extreme measures of help, it might be best to ignore some smaller writing issues and focus instead on bigger things. 

If you’ve already marked a lot of issues in one paragraph, but have more things you could say, consider if the additional suggestions are vital or if it might be better to leave them be. After all, if your author is looking to improve, and if you are planning to beta read for them again in the future, then helping them with more glaring issues now will help them in a way that is not overwhelming, and will open the door for other kinds of suggestions to be better understood and absorbed. 

You can always check in with your author if you’re unsure, too. Ask them if they appreciate the amount of suggestions you’ve given them, or if it’s been too much. Your author might be uncomfortable with telling you that they’re overwhelmed, and checking in is a good way to ensure that you’re both on the same page.

All that being said, though, it is also important to not always focus on things to fix and improve. You’re not just editing the story, you’re reading it. Part of keeping beta reading fun is engaging in that story as any reader would. It both helps morale, and helps let the author know what they’re doing right, when you take the time to tell them what you enjoy about the work you’re beta reading!

There are so many ways you can express positive things about an author’s writing. Consider:

“I love how you phrased this sentence here.”

“This body language feels natural and very in character!”

“I love this word choice here.”

“This part was really funny and had me laughing.”

“I’m excited to see where this goes!”

You’re reading a story, and you must have thoughts and feelings on it outside of suggestions. Let your author know! People thrive on positive feedback, and there’s just as much to be gained in marking Positive attributes to a story as there is in noting places to improve.

The last major thing I feel is vital to beta reading is respecting that it is your author’s work, and that your suggestions (however clever or helpful you feel they are) may be rejected. And that that is okay. 

Suggestions are just that— suggestions.

What you might like in creative writing might not necessarily be what your author wants to express. You might love to use ellipses, or lots of different dialogue tags, while your author might prefer dashes and more standard dialogue tags. You might like to use more colorful descriptions of scenery and atmosphere, while your author might want to focus much more on the character body language and dialogue. You might like to use a lot of exclamation points and next to no italics, while your author might like a lot of italics and very little exclamation points. 

You’re ultimately two different people, with two different ideas of what is an ideal way to tell a story. And while you can give many different suggestions on just about anything the author might add, remove, or change, it’s ultimately the author’s choice whether or not they accept those changes.

It’s not your job as a beta reader to double down and insist that they accept a specific suggestion. It’s not your job to make a case for why you think they need to change something. If an author has denied a suggestion— it’s best to let it go. Especially if you don’t know them well, and don’t have a very good rapport with them, pushing the issue will only serve to make you both uncomfortable.

It’s not just about picking your battles, but also about mutual respect. You’re not a teacher, nor an editor looking to make their work prime for publishing. You have to respect their decisions for their own story, even if that means they decide not to take a suggestion you felt would be impactful. 

It’s also always important to keep in mind that writing style, particularly where creative writing is concerned, can vary wildly. The strict rules that you learn in school were made to be broken. You learn them to figure out how to break them and, particularly when writing for fun, it doesn’t even matter if you’re breaking those rules in a perfect way. It’s fanfiction. It’s freeform, it’s fun. If someone wants to make a habit out of going buckwild with their writing style, there’s really no reason to try and corral their writing into a box labeled “High School English 101”. 

You can’t force someone to write their fanfiction like it’s going to go to a letter grade, nor should you try to unless they’re looking for that level of editing. 

Be willing to listen, and pay attention to what is and isn’t working. It’s good to take note of suggestions that your author has already commented on. Have they thanked you for pointing out something in particular? Have they expressed they feel weak with something in their writing?

Is there a type of suggestion that you keep making that they have rejected multiple times?

Work with their strengths and with their style. Focus on suggestions that have been received well, and consider letting go of ones that the author clearly has no interest in, or that might conflict with their style.

Communicate and respect each other, above all else.

Beta reading is such a helpful and wonderful thing someone can do for an author. I’ve been so thankful to have it done for my own work, and I try my best to be helpful and considerate when I’ve beta read myself. 

Having my work beta read has really helped me find things to improve upon in my writing, and has helped me feel more confident in the stories I’ve posted, just having another eye look over them before they hit the internet. I don’t always take all of their suggestions, and might disagree from time to time with the direction they want something to go in, but I’ve been thankful to have understanding, kind betas that work with me well. 

And that’s one more point I want to touch on too, is that I hope that, as a beta reader, you find yourself with authors that show you mutual respect in turn. That they thank you for the work you’ve put in to help them succeed, and have made the experience positive for you as well.

It always makes me happy to see beta readers credited on posted works. It’s a kind thing for writers to show appreciation, and to acknowledge that someone helped shape the words you see on the page. 

This got much longer than I intended it to, but I just hope that this post might help some people in some way. Either to understand beta reading and the purpose of it, or how to potentially go about it themselves. 

I really recommend giving beta reading a try if you’re comfortable with it, especially if you have friends that write fanfiction! Even just an extra pair of eyes looking for typos can be a godsend for someone who has spent hours upon hours staring at a long fic and editing it.

[hotshotsxyz]

since forever

(buddie) (1.3k words) at no point in time while writing this did i have a single plan for where it was going. it's soft, it's sweet, it has minor spoilers for the blair witch project (1999)

Bizarrely, the first thing that occurs to Eddie post-realization is that he lied to a priest. The thought startles a laugh out of him. Whoops.

He feels good. Like—shockingly good. Light and optimistic and free, everything he’s been trying to let in since Father Brian gave him the go ahead to stop punishing himself, which—

It isn’t actually that he needed permission, especially not from a priest. Or maybe he did.

All he really knows is that this joy he’s letting in? It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt him, or Chris or Buck or anyone else he loves. So when Eddie finally realizes why he’s been putting Buck in his own category for years, he doesn’t even try to put it back in the box.

He loves Buck. He wants Buck. And he’s allowed to want. It’s a good thing, even. And speaking of Buck—

His best friend/the love of his freaking life is staring at him like he’s grown two heads. Which, fair. He’s not entirely sure where they are in the movie, but as far as he recalls there isn’t much in the way of comedy in The Blair Witch Project.

It’s just—Buck was sitting on the literal edge of his seat, pillow clutched protectively to his chest, staring at the TV with eyes wider than dinner plates. Who in their right mind could see something like that and come to any conclusion other than love?

Buck pauses the movie.

“Do not tell me you think this,” he says, gesturing at the screen where, oof, yeah, a young woman is sobbing in terror, “isn’t scary.”

“No, no,” Eddie replies, “very scary.”

Buck snorts. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but it’s wrapped in one of those warm grins that give him away every time.

Eddie hums agreeably.

“Alright, fine,” Buck says. He scoots closer until he’s flush against Eddie’s side. It’s really not that much of a scoot. “If you’re gonna go all brave strong man on me, I get to use you as a shield.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Eddie sighs. He wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, just because he wants to.

He can feel Buck’s exhale as he settles against his shoulder, and for all the times they’ve touched before, this feels different. Maybe it isn’t, though. Maybe Eddie’s just different.

As the tension in the movie ramps, Buck burrows further and further into Eddie. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and twists so that Eddie’s forearm falls from his shoulder and drapes across his chest instead. It’s maybe the most comfortable Eddie’s ever been.

On screen, the two remaining characters creep into a seemingly abandoned house. On the couch, Buck squeaks and grabs Eddie’s hand. This, he decides, is his new favorite movie.   

“We’re never going hiking again,” Buck declares as the credits roll.

“Sure,” Eddie says, shrugging with the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by Buck’s head. “Until you see a cool trail on Instagram.”

“I’m serious!” Buck says. He tilts his head back until he can kind of make eye contact with Eddie. “I am not getting Blair Witched.”

Eddie hums, pretending to think about it. “How about we just… never go hiking in Maryland?” he proposes.

Buck grins up at him, and oh, Eddie has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in this exact moment.

“Deal,” Buck says. He sits back up and rests his head back against Eddie’s shoulder.

There’s a long stretch of quiet where Buck plays with his fingers and Eddie revels in the feeling of it. He thinks—he’s almost certain—that he could ask Buck for anything right now and he’d say yes.

Kiss me.

Move in with me.

Marry me.

His lips tick into a small smile at the thought, but he takes it no further.

“Hey, Eds?” Buck asks quietly.

The TV screen has shut itself off, leaving the room in semi-darkness, cut only by the light of the streetlamps outside.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s different,” he says. It’s not a question.

“It is,” Eddie acknowledges.

“Good different?”

Eddie considers for a moment. Something about the hour, the darkness, Buck’s warmth against his side, makes him feel brave. He presses the smallest, softest of kisses into Buck’s hair.

“Good different,” Eddie confirms.

“Oh,” Buck breathes.

“Good ‘oh’?” Eddie asks teasingly.

Buck flicks one of Eddie’s fingers in recompense. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were fishing for something,” he says.

“If I am?”

Buck takes a shaky breath. “Then I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, Eds.”

He sits up and turns to face Eddie directly, and as much as Eddie misses the warmth of his body, he wants to look Buck in the eye for this part.

“I love you,” Eddie says.

Buck’s lips part in an awed sort of surprise.

“I’m in love with you,” he continues. “I have been, for years, I think. I just… wasn’t ready to let myself look at it.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, already a little wrecked.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Eddie reassures. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I—” Buck says quickly, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t—I’ve never even—” He looks down and his expression shifts, like he didn’t realize he was still holding on to Eddie’s hand. “You love me?” Buck asks, looking back up, eyes shining in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “More than I think I knew was possible.”

Buck exhales in a punched-out kind of way. He raises a hand to Eddie’s face and ghosts two fingers along his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw. “I didn’t—I didn’t know I could,” he breathes.

“You can, Buck,” Eddie says. “Whatever you want, it’s—”

Buck surges forward and cuts him off with a kiss, and if there was a single doubt left in Eddie’s mind, this would’ve extinguished it. It’s a little messy, a little awkward, and the angle’s not quite right, but—

It’s Buck, so it’s perfect.

He pulls back, gasping for air. “I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Eddie catches one of his hands and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on Buck’s wrist. “Don’t be,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. If you need time—”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “Or—maybe? I just—” He blows out a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says, ducking his head until Buck meets his eye again. “I told you once that you didn’t need to be anything for anybody. That includes me, okay?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck says.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t even have to want,” Eddie says, gesturing between them in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Buck sags a little. “Of course I want,” he whispers.

Warmth floods Eddie’s chest and overflows into his stomach. “Yeah?” he asks.

A slow smile spreads across Buck’s face. “Yeah,” he says. “I really do.”

Eddie has known happiness before, felt it in small bursts and long stretches. But what he’s feeling now—it’s blindingly bright, brilliant and beautiful and free of fear in a way he’s not sure he’s ever experienced.

“Can I kiss you again?” Buck asks breathily.

Eddie nods, not quite sure he can trust his tongue anymore.

This time, Buck leans forward deliberately. He cups Eddie’s face in his hands and tucks his nose against Eddie’s before carefully brushing their lips together. It’s featherlight and maddening in the best possible way.

He presses his lips against Eddie’s again, then teases them open with his tongue and—

God, if this is how it was always supposed to feel, Eddie’s pretty sure there are a few more revelations coming his way in the near future. For now, though, he just leans in.

“Oh!” Buck exclaims, popping back suddenly. “I love you, too,” he says. There’s something like wonder coloring his tone and writing itself across his face. “I really—Eddie, I think I’ve loved you forever.”

It’s not possible, not really. As difficult as it is to remember what it was like before his life became intertwined with Buck’s, that before still exists. Eddie knows that. But in his heart—he’s pretty sure his atoms started loving Buck’s at the beginning of the universe.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, drawing Buck back in. “Me too.”

[always-just-red]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to illicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming likes he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[katerinadeannika]

Notes after watching the full Behind the Scenes of Agatha All Along posted on Nov 13th 2024:

There was no way they could have written an ending for Agatha that did not involve death.

I have been saying this to all the naysayers from the get-go, to all the people making posts about being done or fed up or angry about the ending, or how it makes no sense, or how they should have could have done something different and been fine story wise. The behind the scenes confirmed my point.

The main through line for the entire show was the theme of Death; of Agatha never being able to escape it. Where she both loves and hates death and Death, the concept and the woman. Where she's been running from Death for centuries, but Death came for her son and was always coming for her the second she slowed down.

Every completed trial meant someone would die. Billy created the road based off the rumors and witch lore. And the only rumors out in the witch world were that someone knew someone else's aunt/relative/friend who had undertaken the road and never returned. In reality, that was Agatha's doing. But to Billy, it meant that somehow, the Road took its toll on them. And when the coven traveled it, the Road exacted the same price that Billy expected it to. Death or near death at every trial.

The first trial killed Sharon. The second gave Alice her power back and then Billy almost died (and probably would have if Agatha hadn't pleaded with Rio on his behalf, if the coven hadn't worked together, and if Billy hadn't made the Road with his own powers. Some interesting combo of the all the above). The third trial killed Alice who was trying to save Agatha. And the fourth trial killed Lilia and the Salem Seven.

Jac said she intentionally wrote it where Death was a very real thing that everyone in the show had to come to terms with.

And for Jen Kale, her gift was already dead, and she was supposed to resurrect it and take her own power back. She escaped because after Agatha's trial, the fifth one, someone DID die.

And this time it was Agatha.

Agatha had avoided it every other time by either being saved, or having the rest of the coven as fodder for death.

But in the end, when she could have left once again, she must decide who has to pay the final price for her invention of the Road. The Road that she has used to kill and lure countless witches to their doom over the past few centuries.

She can save the boy she has come to love and mentor after the loss of her son. Or, she can leave once again. And so she makes the final moment of self sacrifice, and chooses the final victim of the Road: Herself

She has been running from Death for centuries.

For Agatha's story to have a thematic ending that wasn't cheap or manufactured, she had to stay true to that through-line. That's how writing works. You find your themes. You write about and explore them. And you have a final consequence that determines if it's a positive arc or a negative arc for your main character.

They chose for Agatha to have a positive arc. A moment of final growth. To end the show on her finally making the right decision, even at the cost of the life she's sustained through countless centuries and via countless deaths.

There was no way the show could have ended any other way.

PS: There is no excuse to hate on it. At all.

It doesn't meet any of the criteria for the 'Bury your gays' trope. It doesn't even end Agatha’s story. But it does provide expertly written, well thought out, thematically poignant endings for all the characters in a way that satisfies their personal journey—throughout the show and the centuries.

And I am so glad they made it, and that it ended how it did. I wouldn’t want it any other way. As a writer. As an editor. As a viewer. And as a lesbian.

Agatha All Along is a masterpiece in TV writing. And I can’t wait for more.

PSS: Watch the Behind the Scenes on youtube that Marvel just posted. It’s super good and includes all sorts of info to help with fic writing and just general understanding of the writing and show creation. Also lots of Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza in interviews!

TLDR: Quit complaining and griping about the ending. It was written beautifully. The reason you got so invested is because of all the heavy death elements throughout that made things mean something. Embrace it. Or find media where you were the target audience. Cause if you couldn’t handle something well written that ends like this, you weren’t the target audience. And that’s okay. But move on before you keep griping and causing issues with the community and the cast.

[usomads]

Pin Me // Roman Reigns x Reader

***Author’s Note: Hiii I’m back! Had a dream about this recently and figured I’d write it out for y’all. 🤭 Also, tysm for the feedback on the first one shot I did! I wasn’t expecting that big of a response lmao, but I figured I’d write another one to feed y’all. Happy reading! 🖤***

Plot -> You’re an up and coming wrestler on the main roster, working mid card matches to make your way through the ranks and into the main event scene until you find yourself teaming up with the main event.

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Hickies, Spanking, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.6k

“Miss Y/N, I know you took some bad bumps out there but please try to sit still so we can examine you,” the trainer pleaded. You just had a dark match against Piper Niven before the show opened and you were hurting badly, taking some brutal spots in the process. In the end you had pulled out the win, but you didn’t feel like a winner at that moment. You felt like your ribs had shattered into a million pieces, and it didn’t feel good. “So there’s no breaks or anything like that, you’re just understandably banged up. Keep icing it like you’re doing now and take a Tylenol every now and again, and you should be good to go. Just, don’t go jumping off of things for the next couple days and you’ll be good,” the trainer chuckled. You weakly smiled at him and attempted to get up from the table, but the TV broadcasting Smackdown caught your attention. Roman Reigns caught your attention.

The Bloodline story always captivated you, and it’s part of the reason you started seriously working on your in-ring character. They were the top of the food chain, the blockbuster event, the money ticket, and you hoped one day to grow to their level of popularity and success. Roman and Solo were both cutting a promo, and at first it seemed like the typical stuff. Both claiming to be the Head of the Table, both wanting the crowd to acknowledge them, but it was something Solo said that immediately piqued your interest. “Nobody in the locker room likes you, Roman. The men hate you, the women fear you… you know what-,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I challenge you to find any woman back there that’s dumb enough to team up with you and go against me and my partner next Saturday at Main Event. You win, and I’ll let you have a shot at my ula fala” Roman scoffed, clearly unamused that Solo was doing everything but facing him one-on-one, but agreed to his challenge.

“Wiseman,” he turned to Paul, his longtime advisor as he spoke, “You know what to do.”

Paul wasted no time, making sure to acknowledge his Tribal Chief before he hurried backstage to find the general manager. Now that the segment was over you had no excuse to sit in the trainer’s room, so you walked out and made your way back to the women’s locker room. Still clutching the ice pack to your ribs, you walked gingerly but not before being stopped. “Excuse me, miss Y/N, could I borrow a minute of your time?” There before you was the Wiseman himself, looking more stressed than usual. You were stunned, why would Paul want to talk to me of all people? “Of course, Mr. Heyman. I was just heading back to the locker room. Is everything okay?” “Oh please, call me Paul,” he paused, carefully choosing his next words, “I saw your match with Piper tonight, you looked like a star out there. The splash from the top rope to the announce table was incredible. I-” he stopped his ramblings as his eyes drifted to your ice pack on your ribs, a look of (fear? worry?) evident across his face.

“Oh don’t worry, Mr. Hey- I mean Paul, nothing’s broken. Just a little banged up is all, I’ll be good to go in a couple days,” you smiled as relief washed over his face. “Good, good! I mean- not good that you’re banged up, good that you-” “I know what you mean, Paul,” you chuckled at him, trying to calm him as best you could. “But you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes, right! Well-” he clears his throat, “As the Wiseman to our esteemed Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, I have been tasked with finding a suitable partner to join him in taking down Solo Sikoa and… whoever his partner is… so I was wondering-”

“Hold on a second, Paul, you want me to be Roman’s tag team partner? I mean forgive me for saying this but isn’t there someone… I don’t know… more worthy of a main event spot than me? Does he even know you’re asking me?”

“Well, not exactly,” he hesitated, “the Tribal Chief has… how do I say this… never been one to make friends. So I’ve so far been unsuccessful in finding him a suitable partner, but you’re here and the match you just put on was phenomenal! Even the Tribal Chief himself said you had a lot of promise, which is more than he says about anyone else…” he continued, “but no, I have not told him I was going to speak with you.” “Then let’s go talk to him, I want him to be okay with me being his partner before I agree to anything.” ******************************************************************

“You can’t be serious, Paul.” Roman sighed in clear frustration with the whole thing, “I mean she’s basically a rookie. And you think it’s a good idea for her to partner with me?” “Well yes, my Tribal Chief. I would never lead you astray.” You squirmed where you stood across the room, uncomfortable with the tension in the air surrounding your presence. Paul continued, “I asked everyone else in the locker room, and all of them declined. If you want to reclaim your ula fala, she’s your only option.” It was then that Roman finally glanced in your direction, eyeing you up and down as he pondered on his decision. His stare alone was enough to make you feel weak in the knees, but you hid that as best as you could. Or tried to, anyway. The silence in the air was thick, and before you could stop yourself you were already speaking. “Ro- I mean, my Tribal Chief-” “Please, Joe is fine.”

“O-okay, Joe-,” you stammered. No man has ever made you act like this; you were always so confident, but here you were fumbling your words and stuttering through your sentences like you were a little girl all over again. It was almost pathetic how much of an effect he had on you, but you continued, “I- think Paul is right. I know I-I’m not a b-big name in this business yet but- you need to win back your ula fala, and you need someone willing to team with you to do it. I’m willing. I’ll help you.” Joe studied your body language as you spoke, watching the way you stood nervously across the room from him and how you were slightly shaking due to the pressure you were under. He watched your breathing, noticing you were breathing heavier with each word that came out of your mouth. He also noticed your lack of eye contact with him, your eyes glued to the floor afraid to look at his reaction to your sudden outburst. Joe had been wronged so many times before by people he loved dearly. Being forced to trust a complete stranger in his quest to regain what was rightfully his seemed unfair, but Paul and Y/N were right- it was the only way he was going to be able to do it. “Come here, Y/N.” Your eyes shot up from the floor at his response, looking at Paul for assurance. Paul gave you a small smile in return, letting you know it was okay to approach him. You made your way to him slowly, still looking anywhere but at him as you did so. When you finally reached him your eyes were still down, not daring to make contact, but a jolt of energy made you do so. With a singular calloused finger he lifted your chin until you were staring back at him. He towered over you and his dark brown eyes stared into your own with a burning intensity you couldn’t quite place. 

“You both are sure this is going to work?” He asked you and Paul, still maintaining his gaze with you. “Yes, my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied, a little more confident in his decision than he was about 10 minutes ago. “What about you, Y/N, you’re sure it’ll work?” You swallowed hard, feeling more pressure than ever before. This has to work, you thought, there’s no other option. Letting out a heavy breath you didn’t know you were holding, you breathed out just loud enough for him to hear, “Yes, my Tribal Chief.” “Wiseman, go let Aldis know I found my partner. Oh, and make sure it says between us; I don’t want Solo to see this coming.”

******************************************************************

The day of Saturday Night’s Main Event was finally here, and neither Solo nor the WWE Universe knew you were the ‘mystery partner’. That wasn’t for a lack of trying though, Solo tried every trick in the book to figure it out. Harassing Nick Aldis, sending his lackeys to break into Joe’s dressing room for clues, none of them worked. You both had kept tight-lipped about your partnership, having secret training sessions together in the week leading to the match and keeping creative meetings to ‘need to know personnel’ only. Their plan was executing flawlessly but just had one more step to go: the true element of surprise.

Solo and his partner, Nia Jax, made their entrances into the ring and stood in wait for Roman and his ‘mystery partner’, but were shocked to find that Roman was making his entrance alone. That’s because you were lying under the ring, waiting for your cue to strike. Roman finally entered the ring prompting Solo to start antagonizing him and Nia getting in on the action. Her and Solo’s backs were turned and that’s when you made your appearance, striking Nia from behind and throwing them both off guard.

The match itself was pretty standard, Solo and Roman starting things off. Roman had the upper hand very quickly, but over time that changed. Near fall after near fall from both men ensued, with Superman Punches, Samoan Spikes, Spears, and everything in between. It was apparent that Roman was trying to use most of the time in the ring, he was trying to win this all by himself. But eventually that came back to bite him in the ass, as now he was beaten badly and needed help. His body nearly on the brink of exhaustion as he desperately tried to win in every way possible, to no avail. He knew in the back of his mind you were going to have to finish this match, and that his fate was ultimately in your hands. You knew it too, so while he laid limply in the ring after kicking out of two Samoan Spikes you were screaming for his attention. He dragged himself across the ring to you, finally relenting and giving you the chance to win this, and tagged you in right as Solo was tagging Nia. You entered the ring and suddenly every doubt you had and every insecurity of yours quadrupled as you stood across the ring from the Smackdown Women’s Champion. She came in with a fury you had never encountered before, or seen, and was countering every piece of offense you could get in. But after her initial rush of offense she slowed down, and that was when you struck. You start throwing heavy strikes, tackles, drops, you were unloading the clip of your entire move set on her, and it was working. You had her down on the mat, and were climbing the top rope to hit your finisher on her and nailed it. You immediately crawled on top of Nia to use your signature pin, by straddling her head and using your knees to keep her shoulders down. It was at this moment you locked eyes with Roman who had a different look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before, eyes darker than ever as they trailed down your body and stared at your suggestive pin position. 1… 2… 3… 

You won. You pinned Nia, and you just secured Roman’s opportunity at the ula fala. Both of your names were being announced but you couldn’t hear it, stuck in this trance of Roman’s stare. He entered the ring and stood over you as you were still straddling Nia, looking down at you as you were practically on your knees in front of him. He guides you to your feet by lightly grabbing your chin, making sure he keeps his eyes on your facial features. 

“Be at my locker room in 10 minutes,” he says loud enough for only you to hear, “we’ve got some celebrating to do.” ******************************************************************

You had only given one soft knock on the door before it flung open and were dragged inside, now roughly pressed against it as bites and bruises were being scattered across your neck.

“You did so good for me out there, baby, winning for me all by yourself,” Joe growled against you, “So daddy’s gonna reward you, all you gotta do it be a good girl f’me and you’ll get want you want. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, f-fuck, yes sir.” Joe groaned in response and ripped off your ring gear, as you now stood completely bare before him. He drank in your naked body, how it was curved in all the right places with your beautiful breasts and ass perfectly on display for him. It was then that he noticed the artwork decorating your hip and thigh, a true masterpiece that would make Botticelli’s portrait of Venus look like a kid’s drawing. One that he would have no shame in hanging above his fireplace and admiring it for as long as he lives. 

He attached his lips to yours in an instant and you felt as though you were putty in his hands. This kiss was needy, desperate, and your hands felt the same as your hands wandered up and down his torso and his gripping your ass and breasts like his life depended on it. Joe removed the shirt he was wearing to reveal his god-like body to you, and you felt your wetness begin to drip just from the sight of him alone. His hands continued to wander, reaching your aching core as he let a singular calloused finger drag itself through your wetness. You bucked your hips in response, wanting more of him, but instead felt another large hand grab your waist. “Uh-uh princess, none of that. You’re gonna take what I give you, when I give it to you. Understand?”

“Yes daddy, I just-,” your sentence was halted in its tracks by a rough smack to your ass, making you cry out in pleasure with a hint of pain.

“Don’t talk back to me baby, Daddy doesn’t wanna have to punish you before you get your reward,” he leans into your ear, lips brushing your earlobe as he whispers, “and you don’t want that, do you baby?”

“N-no, no sir. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl, now show Daddy how good your mouth looks full of his cock.” You drop to your knees, hands fumbling with the belt around his hips. Finally you unbuckle it, removing it and releasing him from the confines of his pants and boxers. His cock is as god-like as the rest of him, perfect length, thickness, and the right amount of veins that you know will have your head spinning the moment it enters you.

“Look at me baby,” he tilts your head towards him with his finger, “open your mouth for me.” Reluctantly, you obeyed as he leaned down and spit in your mouth, giving you more to coat his dick with. Still looking up at him, you wrap your hand around the base and spit on the tip, bringing your hand up to pump his cock and fully coat it. You stroke him a few more times before dragging your tongue along one of the veins, making him shudder and let out a low groan, bringing his fingers to your hair and tugging lightly.

“Mmm baby don’t tease Daddy, go ahead pretty girl.”

You wrap your lips around the tip, giving kitten licks and sucking the sensitive head. He hisses and tugs harder on your hair, encouraging you to take more of him. You relax your jaw as you slowly bob your head up and down on his cock, using your tongue and hollowing your cheeks with your movements. Looking up at Joe you see he is a mess above you, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, and moaning your name. To you he always looked like a god among men, but seeing him in this state and being the one to get him there made you want him more than anything in your life. “F-fuck Y/N, you take me so well sweetheart, but I wanna cum in that pretty pussy of yours.” He helps you to your feet and guides you to the couch. He lays down, and as you move to straddle his waist, he stops you. “No, baby. I want you to pin me.” You look at him confused for a moment, unsure of what he’s saying. “Your pin tonight,” he adds, “pin me like you did Nia.” You hesitate before climbing on top of him, straddling his shoulders and resting your calves on them. “Like this, daddy?” You ask nervously.

“No baby, like this.” He lifts your hips from their seated position and brings your pussy directly to his face, where he latches his lips to your aching core. The feeling of his lips and tongue eating you with such desperation makes you jolt forward, grabbing onto his hair for support. He chuckles against you briefly before going back to work on you, licking your folds and wrapping his lips around your clit. His tongue is working wonders on you as he plays with your entrance before slipping it inside. The feeling is overwhelming, both tender and rough at once. You feel yourself getting closer, your walls fluttering around his tongue with every movement it makes. All of a sudden though, he stops, and you whine in response. “As much as I’d love to eat you for every meal and then some, I think the winner here deserves to cum around my cock. Would you like that, baby?”

“Fuck yes, Daddy please, please fuck me.”

“You’ve been such a good girl tonight, I think you deserve it baby. Come on.” You both get up as he bends you over the couch, teasing your entrance with his cock before roughly slamming into you from behind. You scream out in response, which makes him cover your mouth and bring you close.

“Now baby, as much as I’d love to hear you scream my name over and over, I gotta keep you quiet. You wouldn't want someone barging in, would you?” Your pussy tightens around him in response and you moan into his hand. “Oh, you dirty girl… I gotta keep you around, don’t I princess?” He removes his hand from your mouth and brings it to your hair, wrapping it around his wrist for leverage and tugging it as he pounds you from behind. His free hand is roughly smacking your ass as he roughly fucks you, making your pussy squeeze his cock. Your mind is completely blank, the only thing you can think about is him and how good he’s fucking you as you become a moaning mess beneath him. 

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans in your ear, “your Tribal Chief wants to fill your pretty pussy full of his cum, can I baby?” “Mmm, y-yes m-my T-tribal chief. Want y-you to f-fill me up.” He moans at your response, speeding up his thrusts. The sounds of your skin slapping and moans have completely filled the room. You knew if some poor soul walked by they’d know exactly what was happening in here, but neither of you cared. Right now, the only thing on both of your minds was how incredible you felt. It didn’t take long for him to figure out where your spot was, feeling your pussy react to him with every snap of his hips. Both of you were close now, you could feel it, but your orgasm was the first to hit. And it was intense. Your knees buckled under you as you spasmed under him and pushed back further into him, driving him deeper than before. The feeling of you cumming around him was what did him in, releasing himself into you in waves that had him coating your walls completely, marking your pussy as his. He admires his work in front of him; you completely fucked out before him, neck covered in marks he left on you, pussy swollen and red from the beating he just gave it, and best of all, leaking his cum. He takes a moment to come back down to Earth and takes in his surroundings, eyes landing on the ripped up garments on the floor that was your ring gear. Chuckling, he picks up his phone and dials a number. “Hey, Paul. I- yes, we’re fine. Listen, I need you to bring an extra set of clothes with you. There was, um,” he pauses, watching your glossy eyes close and your breathing soften, “an incident.” Paul begins to tease him through the phone, but Joe isn’t listening; he’s admiring the woman sleeping soundly before him and realizing that maybe the match wasn’t the only thing she won tonight, but she had won his heart too.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

happy lando is 25 day! quarter of a century, cheers ears etc. what a wonderful day!!!

inspired ✨ to write some established relationship landoscar celebrating to celebrate lando becoming old and haggard (spoiler: he's not, he's just being dramatic, they're probably just blonde, right?)

They’re granted a rare, extra day off for Lando’s birthday. Andrea takes Oscar to one side in the MTC, looking all sincere with a furrowed brow, and tells him he thinks it’ll be good, for Lando, for them, to have some time alone for his birthday after everything, lately. Oscar’s phone starts lighting up ten minutes later, notification after notification of his meetings getting cancelled for Wednesday, crossed through in his Google calendar. 

Not that it can really be considered time alone. Lando’s playing golf with Max at 11, and they’re going to a restaurant in London tonight with his family.

Still, it has been nice, spending a couple of nights at the hotel together. It’s the kind of place they don’t really stay that often, grand in an old fashioned way, paint chipping off corners and daring you to complain when it’s all part of the character. Last night Oscar went for a swim, and the only other people in the pool were nearly triple his age. He had a great conversation with Mary, celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary, cooing over how nice a boy he is.

Lando’s got a special relationship with the girl on the front desk after she fixed the pizza disaster. He tells Oscar about it in a vague way that’d be pretty worrying, if he hadn’t been watching Max’s stream at the time, curled up in his bed in Monaco thinking he should’ve flown in a day earlier. 

Lando’s in bed himself, right now, still snoring. Oscar’s managed to pull on a pair of joggers he doesn’t think are actually his to open the door to room service. He’d arranged breakfast direct with the kitchen, trying to bypass Lando’s card on file to sign for it himself. It’s not really a birthday surprise, after all, if you make the person celebrating pay for it. 

“Thanks,” he whispers, relieved when he sees it’s Lando’s pizza girl. “Did you get the note about…”

“Mayonnaise?” Her smile as she says it makes something curl in Oscar’s stomach. The horrifying idea that anybody else but him knows Lando’s quirks, even when Oscar knows they’re on show for the world to see. Half of Twitter probably knows about the mayonnaise thing. “Yeah, we might have to get an extra delivery in if he keeps staying.”

Oscar smiles, laughs, even though inside he’s sort of plotting how he can get Lando barred from staying here ever again. They could buy somewhere, near the MTC, he reckons, with their salaries.

As soon as the thought comes, Oscar shakes it off.

It’s mad talk, wanting to buy a house with the guy you’ve been seeing for six months, even if you’ve known him longer, even if you spend most of your lives in each others pockets. 

He notices the snoring has stopped when he starts wheeling the trolley into the main area of the suite. Oscar frowns. Silence is never a good sign, with Lando. It’s either the snuffling breaths of his sleep, the repetitive sounds of a game, or incessant talking. He’s been silent more, lately. 

Oscar pops his head around the door to the bedroom. Lando’s laying on his back, frowning at something in his hand. For a second, Oscar thinks it’s his phone, that Lando’s back reading the bullshit people are writing about him again.

“Uh, hey,” Oscar says, then stops. Not exactly how you greet your boyfriend on his birthday. Even if he’d said it last night when the clocks flickered to midnight, buried deep inside Lando, kissing his neck and his shoulders as they both tried to stave off coming for a little bit longer. “Happy Birth-”

“Have you seen this?” Lando interrupts, sitting up abruptly, holding himself up on one elbow. He sticks his hand out in Oscar’s direction. “I’ve got fricken’ grey pubes.”

Alright, so not his phone then.

Oscar can’t help but laugh, one of the special ones he thinks he reserves pretty much only for Lando, collapsing a bit into his own chest with a huff, letting out the warm air that collects in his chest and has been whispering you love him for a good year now. 

“Can’t say I noticed that one last night,” Oscar tells him, and Lando rolls his eyes, brandishing what Oscar now knows is a pubic hair in the air. “Alright fine, I’m coming, let me see.”

He climbs onto the bed, the joggers he’s now sure are Lando’s slipping further and further down his arse as he crawls. He kicks Lando’s legs apart so he can rest between them, and Lando automatically curls an ankle over his. It’s what they do when they can’t touch properly - in meetings, on planes, sitting in the back of cars in countries that’d kick them out or worse if they knew.

It’s been easier, since they told Andrea and Zak, since it’s gone from secret to just private, at least at work. 

Oscar takes the pube from Lando, holding it up to the slither of light that’s coming in from where they’ve not quite closed the curtain.

Lando looks up at him a bit hopeful, like he’s desperate to be proven wrong. Happier to find out he’s colour blind to greyscale than being old. 

Unfortunately, there’s no mistaking it. It’s definitely lighter than the rest.

“Ah, that does look a little grey, mate, yes.”

Lando groans, flopping down against the pillows, screwing his eyes shut. 

“Might as well just die,” he says dramatically. Oscar sits back, sliding his hands onto Lando’s naked thighs, rubbing them, watching the muscles tense and getting a bit distracted by just how hot he is. It’s a better option, sometimes, than listening to him. “I’m fucking old. Do they even let old people drive? I’m gonna need a fucking pube transplant.”

Oscar snorts. Convenient that he’s forgotten about Fernando being nearly twenty years older than him. 

“You don’t need a pube transplant,” Oscar says, using the sensible voice he puts on when he needs to explain something to Lando. He’s complained before it makes Oscar sound like a teacher, storming off into another room and coming back ten minutes later with a wicked glint in his eye and a potentially slightly illegal PornHub tab open in incognito. “They’re fine. Look…”

He slides his fingers into the tuft Lando’s got above the fat base of his dick. It’s pretty much the same consistency as his facial hair, which he’s absolutely forbidden to mention if he doesn’t want Lando getting the huff for a half hour. 

“Very brown, completely normal for a 25 year old.”

Lando groans again.

“25 is so old, it’s halfway to fucking 50.” Lando grumbles. “Who’s even 50? Aren’t they all dead?”

“Mark’s nearly 50,” Oscar says, then cringes immediately, curling his fingers a bit too tight in Lando’s pubes. His head veers up, eyes a bit dark. Number one rule, no mentioning Mark when either of them is naked, it never ends well. “And er, our Dads? Andrea’s older than that too, and um… Zak.”

Lando screws his face up.

“Oscar, don’t mention Zak when you’re touching my dick, please.”

Despite the annoyance, there’s a hopefulness in the way he says it. Oscar is more than happy to oblige, if it gets him off the hook. He slides down the bed, and even though Lando hasn’t showered and still smells of sweat and come from last night, Oscar takes him into his mouth. He might not be able to play golf, but he can organise breakfast and give a mean blowjob, so he reckons he’s alright. 

Lando’s easy for it, writhing and bucking his hips, and Oscar wants to make it good. Eases Lando’s hips up so he can slide deeper, feeling the press at the entrance to his throat.

After Lando comes, he starts choking, and Oscar has to push him back gently, come still coating his mouth. Lando’s really good at things like this, immediately sitting up to caress the back of Oscar’s head, looking worried. It’s one of the best parts about doing stuff with someone who’d never been with a bloke before Oscar, actually. He still finds the gross parts of sex vaguely horrifying. 

“Are you alright?” Lando asks, and Oscar nods, pressing his fingers into his mouth and swiping around until he finds the culprit, dragging it out from his throat and holding it up.

They both look at it. Drenched in Oscar’s saliva, it’s darker than the first, but it’s still unmistakably grey.

“Don’t,” Lando warns, and Oscar nods, reaching his hand off the bed and flicking his fingers until it drops to the floor, someone else’s problem. “Fucking don’t.”

Oscar snorts, dropping his lips to the inside of Lando’s knee, kissing the soft hairless part that’s only for him. He nods to the door, and the trolley with the steaming plates of waffles, pancakes, and inexplicably, mayonnaise.

He smiles. It’s criminal, really, how much he likes Lando.

“Breakfast?”

[peakyltd]

I was so ready for Dark!Tommy and you delivered him once again Brummie! 🤩 The tension troughout this chapter was so palpable that I was hooked from the beginning.

At first I was a bit confused about her whereabouts, thinking she was in the seat next to him, then the backseat but then I was wondering if she might be in the trunk. Then I thought, nah that's just cruel and I think I forgot what Tommy we were talking about because that was really cruel. The song made and him calmly singing along, spilling some threats here and there made everything so much more haunting.

I was holding my breath when she was able to loose the rear lights and was able to make it known that she was in trouble. You described her fear and despair so well when things got clear that Tommy didn't notice and she took it a step further.

The tension of her escape and the way Tommy was trying to get her was so nerve wrecking but above all this was such a great way to start your story and chapter! Well done!

The court scene is so heartbreaking, she just wants to get out but obviously he'll do everything in his power to keep her where he wants her. I was disgusted by his behavior in court but that's again, amazing writing. The way you described it all was so GOOD, it really felt like I was there experiencing it.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance." She's so desperate to leave this man and I already get why but honestly, I can't wait to find out more about them 👀

This man's moodswings are annoying and confusing as fuuuuuck. I even fall for it everytime I read this, I must say you mastered the way of writing manipulation very well 🤭

You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!" I am shocked. This was such an eerie and powerful line, showing once again that he will do a lot to keep his power over her.

I'm really curious about the detective and I can't wait to find out more about him and maybe his colleague. Like what else does he know and is he someone she can trust? Tommy doesn't seem to like him so maybe he's not part of his plan??? You leave me hanging hereeee.

Gosh Brummie! I'm so excited about this! The way you bring emotions to life through the characters is stunning. Each word feels like a pulse, making the reader not only understand but feel what they’re going through. Can't wait to read the next chapter! 😍

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

[sweetieviktor]

viktor is in love! (headcanons)

summary: how he acts when he loves someone.

content warning: just fluff!! also, this was written with season 1! viktor in mind!

author notes: life has been hard (exams, school stuff, looking for a job and a lot of other things lol), but now im finally able to write again!! :) and season 2 is just arrrgh so good, so good. also, thank u for the request! i really want to write more about vik (and any other arcane characters), so please keep sending those in!!

» at first, viktor would be pretty oblivious about his feelings for you, always ignoring the little tingling in his heart whenever you talked to him, the smile that appeared on his face every time you laughed or the way he seemed to be draw closer and closer to you, like if you were magnetic.

» whenever you talked to him, he would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the whole world, like every word you said was sacred, like you were the most beautiful thing he laid his eyes on. and you could swear it was possible to see hearts on those eyes.

» if you happen to work close to piltover’s academy, he will find himself going out more, looking for you in every corner on the streets. but if you work on the academy, he will go to your workplace quite often to brainstorm or just to talk about some subject he is working on.

» and when you happen to talk about the things you like, be prepared to either face viktor staring at you, completely silent, or to be bombarded with viktor questions, trying to learn more about whatever you're interested in.

» after your meet-ups, he always come back to the lab and talk to jayce about you, about the things you like, how you're amazing and beautiful and understanding and pretty and intelligent and so, so many good things.

» maybe he is in love...

[felassan]

Paste Magazine: 'Dragon Age: The Veilguard‘s Creative Director Talks Restoring the Lore'

Rest of post under cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"“I was the one cinematic person who always snuck their way into all the writing meetings because I love storytelling,” [John] Epler tells Paste. “I love narrative, and they wanted me to be Narrative Director on the franchise.” When the Creative Director position opened up later on, Epler was primed for the role thanks to his experience across multiple aspects of game design.  ‘They wanted someone who had a good relationship with the people on the team, who could work across disciplines, and who knew the story,” Epler explains. “You know, knew the franchise and its storytelling. Because I think for Dragon Age in particular, narrative is such a core part of the franchise’s identity. They wanted someone who could operate in that space, but also knew how to work with gameplay, work with design, work with art, and that was something that, with both QA and cinematics, I had learned to do. I think just a history of being always willing to do whatever was necessary and also having good relationships with most people on the team helped me out.” As creative director on Veilguard, Epler worked with a team that fluctuated in size from a dozen to several dozen depending on which phase of development it was in. And given Epler’s history with cinematic design, that team worked closely with narrative to craft the kind of epic story Dragon Age and Bioware are known for. “Storytelling is huge, probably the biggest part of Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” Epler reminds us."

---

"Paste: When you’re bringing back a series after a decade, how do you decide what threads to pick back up on, which characters to use, which lore to focus on, etc.? John Epler: It is going to sound very cliche, but it is true: It honestly comes as we build it. We knew a couple of core parts of the story. From the end of Trespasser, for good or for ill, we pretty much determined where we were going and what we were going to be doing. It was about the chase, the search for Solas. Solas had been very clear in his ambitions to end the world at the end of Trespasser. And, you know, at the end of the very final scene of Trespasser, we stabbed a knife, a dagger, into the map on Tevinter. So we kind of knew we wanted to go to Tevinter. We knew we wanted to chase Solas. Now that said, as the story started being constructed, and we discovered, okay, where else do we want to go, what characters make the most sense in this story, that kind of determines what lore threads we want to start pulling on. So without getting too much into spoilers, obviously, Scout Harding has a story that’s very focused on the dwarves and their history; Shery Chee started writing Harden’s ark, and realized, okay, this is actually something we’re going to want to dive into more deeply. Belarra’s story is very focused on the ancient elves, not just the gods, but who they were. So that became a lore thread we wanted to pull on.  As far as returning characters for us, it really does come down to who has the most to say about what’s going on in the world. Who is the most likely to be involved in this particular story. And I think, most importantly, this is something that we always talk about, is who has more to say in their story, whose story isn’t over. Because one of the things that I don’t necessarily want to do, I don’t want to bring back a character just so they show up and then disappear. That doesn’t necessarily do that character justice, but it also contributes to what you do see in some franchises, which is a sense of small world syndrome, where there’s literally 30 or 40 important people in this whole world, and they all somehow know each other.  But again, you know, you see Morrigan in the in the previews, and as we’re writing the stories like, well, of course, Morrigan, who is the daughter of Flemeth, who was at least an aspect of the goddess Mythal, one of the ancient elven gods, she probably has something to say or something to do in a story about the last two elven gods escaping. So, yeah, it comes down to who has something interesting to say, who has something more to say in their story, and who do we feel makes the most sense for where we’re going and what we’re doing."

"Paste: Sticking to the long gap between the last two games, what are the challenges in trying to make a satisfying continuation of that story without making it impenetrable for new players who maybe weren’t old enough to have really played Dragon Age in the past? John Epler: Well, I think it was funny because, on the one hand, yeah, the challenge is, you’re trying to tell another chapter of a story that’s been dormant for at this point nearly a decade. But it’s funny because I do think that actually ends up working to our benefit. For the second question, we cannot assume anything about what players remember. Because even people who were playing Origins, were playing Inquisition, all the DLC, they may not have done so for quite some time. And obviously some players are going to like—I mean, I see it all on social media, people doing their final Inquisition playthrough before Veilguard, which is great, but you have to assume that people don’t remember everything that happened. You have to re-onboard them back to the world, back to the lore, and you’re also bringing in new players. I think honestly, for Veilguard, one of the things that’s worked the most to our benefit is that this is a continuation of that story, but the context changes so dramatically within the first hour. You know you’re going after Solas, you know the first mission. We’ve always said we wanted it to feel like the last mission of a different game. But then you get to him, the ritual crumbles, the gods come out. And now, even if you’ve been following this story up to this point, for everyone, it’s just a sharp left turn. Solas is no longer the central antagonist of this at this moment, it’s now these two new figures, which means Rook, you know, you as a player character, but also the player themselves… You need to bring them back into this story, because nobody, including the people who’ve been playing forever, know what’s going on at this point. So it’s actually a really great way to do the first couple of hours, because you can’t assume everyone is coming into it with the same level of grounding in the story itself. Some people are gonna have more lore. And one of the things we do try to do is, anytime we introduce a proper lore term, I use Venatori as an example, we always try to pair it with a more commonly understood phrase. So “Venatori” and “cultists” always go together in the first few hours of the game. “Evanuris” and “elven gods” always go together in the first few hours of the game, but done in a way that doesn’t feel like the game is like, “Hey, don’t worry, we’re going to tell you everything.” It feels natural the way the people in the world talk about it. So you encounter Strike and Irelin, two of the Veil Jumpers, early on, and they use the terms interchangeably in a way that allows players who don’t know as much about the world to get what all these things mean. Like I said, it’s just the context of the stories. The story shifts so dramatically in those first couple hours that everyone is catching up, even the characters, even, you know, Harding is still trying to figure out what the heck is going on."

"Paste: Speaking of what’s going on, in Veilguard we have a new character as the protagonist, Rook. What’s happening with the Inquisitor and the protagonists from the first two games? What are they doing in this world now, assuming they survived their games? John Epler: One of our storytelling philosophies is, for us, especially when it comes to importing, is unless we explicitly say so, assume that those characters are still around. So what we do, because this is the story of Solas and the Inquisitor has a very direct tie to Solas, the Inquisitor does show up in Veilguard. I’m not going to tune into spoilers, or what the role is, but it would have been very strange for us to tell the story of Solas without having the Inquisitor involved, because, again, they were part of that story. As to the previous two protagonists, they’re still around; that said, their personal arcs, their stories that they were part of in their games, aren’t as directly tied into this story, either narratively or geographically. We’re now in the north of Thedas. So the Hero of Ferelden, who you know, if your hero survived, one of the things we talked about is they were looking for a cure to the Calling. They’re not going to necessarily be involved in this because they weren’t tied to the elven gods, and the blight is still present elsewhere. And Hawke, depending on what you did in Inquisition, may be deep in the Fade, or they may have gone to work with the Wardens and also engage with the Hero of Ferelden at some point. So we’re not going to say much about them because they’re not directly related to the story, but we want players to understand the fact that we’re not saying anything about them because they’re still alive. They’re still doing something."

"Paste: A lot has changed in the world of games and game design in the last decade. How has the creative process of creating a Dragon Age like Veilguard changed over that time? How was making Veilguard different than Inquisition? John Epler: I’d say the biggest change for me has been leaning much more heavily into pre-production on everything. So one of the things that we’d done on Inquisition, I was a cinematic designer on it, we didn’t really have the sense of storyboarding, of previsualization the way we do now. But with Veilguard, one of the things we did very early on is we built the entire story in Twine so we could play through and see the interaction points, see the word branch, and get the sense of how it was flowing, how it was coming together. Beyond that, very heavy use of previsualization, whether storyboards or actual white box, in-engine—or, I say “in-engine,” but, you know, in Maya—models, moving together, figuring out how these shots work. But I mean, ultimately, a lot of the same processes are in use now that we did then. Writing does peer reviews, they still do the same peer reviews. Take your work, you put it in front of the group, and you basically say tear it apart. Let me know what works, what doesn’t work. But I do think the other thing that’s been a great change since Inquisition is there’s a lot more sense of… if you’re building a level, you’re not just bringing in the level designers and level artists, you’re bringing in the gameplay people, you’re bringing in writing, you’re bringing in, you know, all these different groups to kind of build the feel, build the shape. Not to say Inquisition wasn’t collaborative, but I will say, as someone who worked on it, I felt much more like each pod was kind of an entity onto itself, you know, doing this thing, but not really touching the other parts of the game. In Veilguard, we very much wanted people to understand how their work fit into the whole that we were building. So there was a lot more sense of collaboration. And then, you know, more practically, COVID happened while we were making this game and brought work-from-home, remote work in general. I’m doing this interview from my basement right now, but in general, people are working more distributedly, so there becomes a much higher premium on communication. And like, we use Slack pretty extensively, and the sense of like, talking to people as much as you need to, as much as you can communicate broadly, and information sharing, I think, has become a much bigger part of it."

"Paste: So having the different departments less siloed, like it used to be, how has that impacted the day-to-day experience for a Bioware employee. Are they working more or less hours now that things are more collaborative? John Epler: I think it depends on who you are. And, I mean, I’d say generally less but again, it depends. I will say for myself, I have difficulty because of work-from-home. And this is a personal thing. I don’t always have the best separation between work and life because sometimes it’ll be like, nine o’clock at night and you’ll be like, oh, you know what? I just had this really great idea, I’m going to hop on and do something about it. That used to mean driving back to the office. So I will say now I’m not in the office, which is great. For me, one of the greatest things about this has been, I have a personal rule of I don’t ever do work between the time my kids come home and when they go to bed, which means I get to be fully involved as a parent. But then, like I said, 9:30 comes along [and the kids are in bed], and, you know, I think because I’m creative director, it’s a little bit different. I gotta jump in and be like, oh, I want to do this. So I think, you know, it depends on the person. But I think what it’s done is, in general, allowed a lot more freedom in defining your hours. And we do have some people who are not morning people, so maybe they don’t get up and jump on as early, but then I’ll see them later at night, and they’re doing the work that they would have done. And I think that freedom for me has been, and I think I can speak for a lot of people, has been probably the best part of how things have changed."

"Paste: So something else that’s changed in games over the last decade, I guess it really became standard right before Inquisition came out, and it’s something that’s been a constant problem for many people who are creatives in many different mediums. But some of the fans and fan accounts online and how they react to games and designers and games media, starting with what they call GamerGate. What are your thoughts on that type of fan interaction and how has it impacted the Veilguard team? John Epler: Anytime you get fan feedback, the question I always ask is, what is it that they’re actually saying? And, you know, sometimes it is literally what’s coming out, what they’re typing. But a lot of times, from whatever group it’s from, there’s a sense that they’re speaking to something deeper, something that’s, you know… I think ultimately, for me, it comes down to understanding and being confident in your vision which means you take the fan feedback, you can look at it, you can decide what you do or don’t do with it. But one of the most—I don’t want to say challenging, but one of, I think, the easiest traps to fall into is a feeling that you need to be, “oh God, they don’t like this, and they don’t like this, change this, change this.” And I think there’s a sense of, if you have a vision that you’re comfortable with, are confident in, you continue to stick with that vision, you can make make adjustments, make tweaks based on what people get excited or don’t get excited about. But I think the other side of it is, when you’re releasing news, you’re doing press events, you’re talking about the game, you’re only giving people a small slice and a decision that may, for them, like, “I cannot believe that, why would they do this,” makes a lot more sense when you know the context of the decision as a whole. And I’ll say it for myself, one of the bigger examples of this was when the Yakuza series went from action to JRPG, turn based RPG, and I’m like, “Oh, this is so weird. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about this. You know, this feels like a very strange shift.” When I played the game, like, “oh yeah, holy smokes, this makes so much sense.” They made it make sense narratively. They made it make sense from the gameplay perspective. So I always try to remind myself, like we know the game as a whole. We know all the pieces and how they fit together. When you get that feedback again, you can look at it. Some feedback is obviously better than others. Some feedback is more, you know, is more interesting, and more does more for us than others. But again, it comes down to know the game you’re building, be confident in the game you’re building, and don’t try to design by committee, because ultimately, everyone has a different thing that they want out of the game, and a lot of people, even themselves, will have two very contradictory things that they want out of a game. So you have to be careful not to overreact and water down what you’re building into something that I would describe as, you know, mushy. You don’t ever want to be in the mushy middle. You want to make a strong statement with your game and how your vision evolves, and stick with that."

"Paste: Where do you hope to see Dragon Age go from here? John Epler: Honestly, I love telling stories in this world, and I think one of the fun things about the ending of this game and some of the seeds that it sows for the future is the sense that everything you thought you knew, maybe you weren’t as right as you thought you were. And that stuff like using the unreliable narrator. It’s fun to be able to take that and apply it to things that you as a player experienced, and then see that there’s an additional layer. Context that you didn’t have at the time that now throws into questions some of what’s going on. So again, I’m trying to be as vague as possible to avoid spoilers. But I do like the idea of—because one of the things, the other side of it is Thedas is one continent in this world. There’s still a whole other world out there. And I think, you know, for myself, I kind of want to know what’s out there. I kind of want to know what’s going on in a world where, over the last 15 years, Thedas has almost ended the world three times by themselves. If you’re from a different continent, how are you feeling about that? I’m gonna guess, probably not great. So I think there’s a lot of fun stories to tell there. We haven’t said much about the rest of this world. So there’s just this giant blank canvas for us to start playing in, which I think is, for me, the most exciting thing about moving forward with this franchise."

[source]

[butchvamp]

i already said it but it does really frustrate me how little agency Taash has and the more i think about it the more insidious it gets. again their entire story revolves around Rook making choices for them, and they're also consistently talked down to by other characters, even if those characters are depicted as being friendly or nice. Isabela treats them like a child despite Taash being a very accomplished dragon hunter with the lords (which we see, repeatedly, when fighting the blighted dragons! Taash is not a child), and of course there's their mother (at least this is intentional) and both her and Isabela go behind Taash's back to throw them in with Rook, without asking for their input. Isabela just assumes without even trying to discuss it with Taash separate from their mother, despite seemingly being aware of the two's strained relationship... and from there Isabela continues to make unnecessary comments to Taash whenever you visit the hall of valor with them.

even Flynn, the nonbinary grey warden you meet in the wetlands, condescends to them about the Qun when discussing their gender, and Taash isn't allowed to disagree with them (apparently they give Flynn a Look but ultimately don't press the issue) and Flynn is depicted as being helpful in this discussion. Rook lectures them about gender and their own culture; their entire narrative revolves around Other People telling them what to do and how to feel-- it's obviously meant to be Bad when Taash's mother does it, because she (the Qun) is oppressive, but otherwise the game seems to be fine when it's Rook or literally anyone else doing it, because we're the enlightened Good Guys, and Taash is just helpless and confused and so oppressed. of course, i don't think it's bad for Rook to discuss these things with Taash or give them gentle suggestions, and i don't even hate the potential gender discussion you can have with a trans Rook; and for the record, their mother does treat them poorly. but we can't ignore the way Taash's repeated infantilization culminates in the player being the one to choose their culture for them in the end, because..?

well, the game clearly doesn't think Taash is capable of doing it themselves. at one point Taash links the ropes they wear for the Qun to the ones the antaam used to tie down a dragon and "blight" them. even if i'm feeling gracious and say that Weekes really meant that womanhood & their mother's expectations are restricting, they actively chose to use the ropes of the Qun to make this comparison, and so are also implying here that their mother teaching them the Qun has tied them down and "blighted" them-- that the Qun has "infected" their thinking and is as bad as the blight (this is also implied in the previous discussion with Flynn). this is.... really racist. it takes Rook and their, again, "enlightened" (white) ideas about gender to get through to Taash, nevermind that the Qun has its own ideas around gender that just get shouted down or completely ignored. the racism here results in the narrative contradicting itself, considering one of the first things Taash says is "you don't get to tell me who i am" but... Rook does, in the end, because intentional or not the game is clearly convinced that a person like Taash needs someone from outside of their and their mother's culture (aka free of "blight") to come tell them what's best for them.... 🤔 hm! and while it's true you can choose for them to align with the qunari in the end, that doesn't mitigate all of the heinous and racist writing that leads up to that choice (and that the choice itself is racist. and you have to make it twice!)

of course we can say that Rook makes choices for all of the companions, this is true, but it's obvious that none of the other companions' choices are in the same ballpark, we aren't directly deciding something about their identity, and none of them lack agency to the same extent as Taash. we can even argue that they need Rook to explain gender to them, no one else ever has-- well, sure. the thing with Taash is that some parts of their story, when removed from context, are perfectly fine. i'm not criticizing the way Taash talks or acts or "does gender," all of which are things some people may connect to for various reasons (all of our experiences are different) but unfortunately we cannot discuss any of this without addressing the racism that is so thoroughly baked into every aspect of their character.

i criticized Taash for being "childlike" previously and that really wasn't the right phrasing-- i don't think that Taash themselves is childlike, it has nothing to do with them-- it's the way the narrative treats them, the way other characters talk down to them, how it takes away their autonomy & forces us to go along with it, and ultimately educate them and "save" them, and i think it's worth interrogating why Taash, of all the companions, is specifically depicted this way (it's racism).

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here)| Chapter Ten(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. ���If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @anicega , @splicer13vex , @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid

[minkiverse]

SONG MINGI FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

The behemoth part two 🫡🫡 fun fact at the time of me writing this san and mingi have equal amount of posts on this blog and thats what you call being double-biased 👍👍 once again unfortunately this will have another part as i could not fit all my recs in this post fuck tumblr but i hope you all enjoy reading about my sweet sweet princess 🥹🥹 and give a lot of love to these authors!!!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Princess pt 2 - @choisanboobenthusiast 🔥

it probably won't be shock that a lot of the mingi fics i recommend are sub!mingi and this is just the beginning 🤤🤤 HOW HE IS WRITTEN HERE IS JUST SO FUCKING CUTE I COULD CRY 😭😭 hes just so needy i- 🫠🫠

Under the Radar - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Fuckboy!Mingi ✧ Ongoing

like i said in my reblog i truly can understand mc because i would also be in love immediately with this man that it would be a concern for everyone around me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ her making him chase her too AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THAT

Genesis - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 Fashion Mogul!Mingi ✧ SMAU

i will say the main trope of this story isnt for everyone BUT IT SURE AS HELL IS FOR ME!!!!! what can i say about this author's smau's they are so interesting with dynamic characters and plotlines but still so funny and i love mingi in this 😭😭😭😭

Use me pt 2 - @hwaightme 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers

mingi is deeply in love with mc and offers himself up to them and i will cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 hes just so precious in this two shot literally the sweetest bub that deserves everything 🥺🥺

show & tell pt 2 - @jensthwa ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

a friends to lovers trope will always get me especially when it starts with them "helping" each other which makes the realization that they love each other sosososososososoooooooo good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the princess treatment chronicles pt 2 - @yuyusuyu 💗 Friends to Lovers AU

oh god everyone in this fic is absolutely adorable 🥹🥹🥹 mingi has a list of how to make him fall in love and mc is doing a real good job at completing that list 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE THIS IS JUST FLUFFY FLUFF I LOVE IT!!!!!

Dirty Little Secret pt 2 - @xosannie 🔥 Friends to Lovers ✧ Sex Worker!Mingi

mc stumbles across mingis secret twitter account and cant stop thinking about it but same of course absolutely completely normal reaction to seeing videos of mingi getting himself off like???????? n e ways mc gets to help mingi in his career what a good friend 🥰🥰

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES

Sweet Juice - @hongism 🔥 Magic AU

the patient in 206 - @frenchkisstheabyss 💗 Hospital AU

[5:04 AM] - @edenesth 💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

Untitled - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Supernatural AU ✧ Ghost!Mingi

look at the way i ride - @biaswreckme 🔥

edging mingi - @1ovewoo 🔥

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

realistic sex with mingi - @byuntrash101 🔥💗

[12:03 am] - @min-gis 🔥

steamroller - @fallinforgyu ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

this fic..... oh my god..... if i wasnt already in love with mingi THIS JUST MADE IT 10000000% WORSE 😭😭😭😭 childhood friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (not really but u kno asdfsdfgfddf) and just the sweetest exploration of each other as they decide to lose their virginities together AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😩😩😩😩😩 its just perfect ok i love them

Untitled - @thetypingpup ✨🔥 Dragon!Mingi

fucking sub dragon!mingi.... what else is there to say 🤤🤤 like him just soaking in the praise and possessiveness ohmygooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo😩😩😩😩

Tuesday | Seven - @sluttywoozi ✨🔥💗

we have 3 major hits in a row AND I AM LOSING MY MIND REREADING ALL OF THEM 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is some of the hottest domestic smut ive ever read quite possible 🫠🫠 reader is so incredibly horny for mingi AND I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT and damn mingi is down 😩😩

Assert your Dominance - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Mechanic!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits - @gamerwoo 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers ✧ Wererwolf!Mingi

Yeehaw - @desirehorizon 🔥

Kinktober Day 30 - @ateezreactionsandscenarios 🔥

Face Sitting with Mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Use it. - @a-soft-hornytiny 🔥

NSFW Alphabet - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Sleepless Inquiries - @catkyunie 💗

mingi x chubby!reader - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

After Work - @ateezscupid 🔥

It's okay, baby - @ateezscupid 🔥

Make Up - @nateezfics 🔥💗

12:06 - @desirehorizon 🔥

booksmart - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥

i am probably a broken record at this point but god do i love sub!mingi AND NERD LOSER MINGI FUCK ME😩😩😩😩😩 mc is such a good tutor for him wowowow 🤤🤤

Killer Eyes - @pirateprincessblog 🔥⛈️ Prisoner!Mingi ✧ Doctor!Reader

[9:47 PM] - @edenesth 💗

most vulnerable - @taexual ⛈️💗 Mafia AU

Hibiscus - @desirehorizon 🔥

Dear Princess - @ateezscupid 🔥 Medieval AU ✧ Vampire!Mingi

Unspoken Desires - @yourlocaljonghoe 🔥

play hooky - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

under the sheets - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

save a horse, ride your best friend - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Friends to Lovers AU

pussy drunk w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

22:46 - @seonghwaddict 💗 Roomates AU ✧ Friends to Lovers AU

country boy w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Country Boy!Mingi

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨⛈️💗 Fantasy AU Demon!Mingi

tortured cursed mingi my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 this was a fic i read early on into getting into ateez and it is so fucking good 👏👏 like the concept is so interesting (esp for someone like me who hasnt watched any ghibli movies) but catch me sobbing for erebos on a daily basis😭😭😭😭😭😭

Eyes Roll - @jjunieworld 🔥

Wave - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗 Teacher AU

Tired - @hongism 🔥💗

mind over matter - @mingisaddctn 🔥

worship w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cowboy!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Mingi

brainless w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥💗

butterflies - @hwaslayer 🔥💗 Parent AU

11:15 pm - @minranghae 🔥

backseat serenade - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

boyfriend texts 2 - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

sacrifices - @lustfuldevils 🔥

Rainy Morning - @nateezfics 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Dry Humping - @gingersxng 🔥

Untitled - @dairyminki 💗

Fantasize - @2cupids 🔥

song mingi as boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

skinny dipping - @byuntrash101 🔥 Swimmer!Mingi

Sour Candy - @0097linersb 🔥

Track 017 - 2Seater - @desirehorizon 🔥

please baby - @starminzoo 🔥

still your biggest fan - @byuntrash101 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

situationship w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun ⛈️ SMAU

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Baby Fever - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Untitled - @justaaveragereader 🔥

00:00 - @iannmin 💗

Untitled - @hrt4yongie 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 💗 College AU

friends to lovers with mingi - @lxvemaze 💗🍑 Friends to Lovers

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble 🔥

6:52 pm - @323cutie 💗

Obsession - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥⛈️

10:02 - @kwanisms 🔥⛈️💗 Hyena!Mingi

[revelboo]

Hello, sorry if I'm being annoying. But I’d love to see something with IDW Ratchet or Tarn if you could write anything with them—especially Ratchet. I just don’t see enough good stories about him. I really enjoy your writing style and can’t get enough of it. Sorry for any mistakes; English isn’t my first language.

Sure, I’ve been meaning to do an IDW Ratchet. Tarn’s on my list, too, but he and Ratchet will likely be the last new characters for a while. I’m currently over 30 ongoing storylines at this point 😅

Feel Like Rain

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Sometimes it’s all too much. Even with First Aid helping, there’s just not enough medics in the Ark to support so many Autobots. Wheeljack and Perceptor can help if push comes to shove, but even then once the fighting begins again it won’t be enough. He’s never enough. And when he can’t get his processor right, when it threatens to drown him, he goes driving in his alt mode. Feels the sun baking him, the sand and hot asphalt under his tires. No real destination in mind, just trying to calm the panic that’s always there, the worry about what might happen. Driving for hours sometimes in a widening spiral about the Ark. Never going too far in case he’s needed. As he turns, he almost misses the car down in a crevice, only part of the bumper still visible, emergency lights flashing. Not his problem, but he’s still slowing anyway. Because he’s still a medic and someone might be hurt.

• Transforming and sliding down next to the car, he lays a hand on the roof feeling the heat of the metal and knowing it’s been there a while. Leaning to look inside anyway, there’s a human slumped forward against the wheel, broken glass glittering in their hair. Unmoving. Too late, then. Spark constricting, he’s turning away, pushing off the car to make the metal groan, when their little fingers flex and you make a low, guttural noise of pain that freezes him.

• It takes time to carefully peel back the roof of the car, snap the seatbelt and pull the door off to remove you. Feeling how hot your skin is against his servos as he lifts your limp form. Your eyes never open but you mumble incoherently, broken fragments he can’t make sense of. That make him wonder just how long you’ve been here, trapped and waiting to die. Because there’s no leaving you now that he has you in his hands. Carefully transforming around you to carry back to the Ark.

• Wheeljack’s in Medbay when he returns, digging through his tools and looking up guiltily, vocal indicators flickering green before he notices the human. “Haven’t seen that one before. Looks rough,” Wheeljack murmurs, moving closer as Ratchet lays you on a berth, your tiny form looking even smaller in the bot sized space. He’s almost absurdly glad Wheeljack’s there. Even though he’s been trying to brush up on human medicine since there’s so many of them now in the Ark, he doesn’t know nearly enough. Doesn’t know how to help you, but Wheeljack has a human. He has to know something.

• Snatching a scanner to run over you, he frowns at the results. Wrist and arm broken, one leg fractured. Body temperature well outside of normal parameters, dehydrated. Blood pressure off from normal, too. And he doesn’t know enough to know which problem is a priority. Which will kill you if he doesn’t fix it first. “Get your human,” he says softly. Temperature? It’s a place to start, cooling you off. “Now, Wheeljack,” he adds without looking up when the other bot doesn’t immediately move. Using a servo to brush your hair from your face, he can see the glass glittering on your skin and in your hair. “You held on this long.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Cute When You're Jealous

SUMMARY: Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous.

PAIRING: Glen Powell x Reader

A/N: Thanks to the Anon who sent this request in! I tried to do something a little different with it and make Glen the jealous one instead of the reader. I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "You're really cute when you're jealous."

WARNINGS/TAGS: None. Just Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 850

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The two of you are stretched out across Glen’s couch, perfectly tangled together after the few days he was away. One of your legs is draped comfortably over his thigh, and you’re curled into his side, with your arm resting across his stomach. He’s got one arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his other hand resting over your forearm. His fingers are tracing light, soothing patterns up and down your skin—a touch that feels both intimate and grounding.

You smile up at him as you begin telling him about the Jurassic Park screening, the one he had wanted to take you to. He’s watching you closely at first, but as you start talking about the details of the night, his fingers gradually stop moving. He’s silent as you describe the T-Rex scene, his hand stilled against your arm, and you notice he’s not looking at you anymore. Instead, his gaze is fixed somewhere down near his feet, and the usual ease in his expression has gone quiet.

“Glen?” you ask softly, studying him. You can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his arm around you has stiffened just a bit. “Is something wrong?”

He blinks, glancing up at you with a sheepish, almost-too-casual smile. “Hmm? No, no, I’m good,” he says, brushing it off with a chuckle. But there’s a hint of something else in his tone, a little edge of restraint.

You tilt your head, giving him a look that says you’re not buying it for a second. “Okay, try that again. Because I know you, babe. Something’s definitely up.”

He tries to wave it away, running a hand through his hair, but he can’t fully hide the reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s really not a big deal. I just, uh…” He lets out a breath, finally looking back down at you. “I guess I just hate the idea of missing out on things with you. I was the one who planned that night, you know? And here I am, getting scooped up to New York, and then someone else gets to be there with you instead.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and you give him a reassuring squeeze, your fingers brushing gently over his ribs. 

“So you’re saying you’re jealous,” you tease, your voice light, though your heart aches a little for him.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes like the very idea is absurd. “Jealous? Of what? That you spent a night quoting some dinosaur movie with Joe? Hardly.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile as you reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.  “Uh-huh. So, no jealousy at all?” you press gently, catching his gaze and not letting him squirm away this time. 

He shifts under your gaze, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. 

“Maybe just a little,” he admits, reluctantly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Not in a jealous-jealous way. I trust you, and you know Joe and I get along great. I just… I don’t know. It feels weird when someone else gets that time with you, especially when I want to be the one there with you.”

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” you murmur, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He groans playfully, rolling his eyes even as his smile betrays him. 

“Oh, stop it. I am not cute right now,” he insists, though his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer.

But you shake your head, grinning up at him. 

“Nope, you are. And anyway, it’s not the same without you,” you say, laying your head back on his chest. “I had fun, but trust me, I’d take a cozy movie night with you any day over some big theater experience with anyone else.”

His expression softens, and he shifts his hand up to brush his fingers through your hair. 

“You mean that?” he asks, his voice carrying a vulnerable edge you don’t often hear.

You nod, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than right here with you. How about we make up for it and watch Jurassic Park together?”

His face lights up, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, letting it linger. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, his earlier hesitation melting away. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, though the grin tugging at his mouth tells you he’s already in.

“Positive. Besides,” you say, snuggling closer to him, “I’m counting on you to give me the full experience, T-Rex roars and all.”

With a chuckle, he reaches for the remote and turns on the movie. His hand returns to your arm, gently running his fingers along it again as the opening credits start to play. 

He presses another kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “Best movie night ever.”

And as the familiar music fills the room, you can feel the last of his tension ease away, leaving just the two of you, tangled up and exactly where you want to be.

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.