#men with dark eyes and grey hair save me

[deadunderorbit]

George Clooney as Danny Ocean and Matt Damon as Linus Caldwell in Ocean’s Eleven (2001)

[tteokdoroki]

Your post talking about “I HATE MEN WHEN THEY SIT DOEN THEY ARE SO INCONSIDERATE IF YOUR SPACE” made me think of, but what if it was Nagi 😏 He is manspreading taking up space so much so your legs are touching even in the slightest and you meekly ask him if he can scoot over a little and he looks at you with his sleepy eyes and says “sorry doll, didn’t notice you” OR SOMETHINF LIKE THAT IDKKK IM JUST HAVING THOUGHTS

this is so sick and twisted SO SICK SND TWISTED !!! tw for size difference / size kink / nagi is bigger than reader

nagi is so big and huge he hardly knows his size. like the only time he really thinks about how big he is is when he’s got you pinned underneath him :( like a hand on your tummy or hips to keep you in place, his large palm around your throat just barely there when he wants a kiss from you. he only really thinks about his size then.

but when you’re just relaxing with nagi, sitting together — he’ll take up so much space and make you feel so teeny in comparison to him you can’t help but get butterflies while your thoughts go south. you know he can’t help it when his legs spread wide on the couch, there’s hardly any room for him. you know that he’s completely unaware of how warm his thighs are against your own and how it makes heat rush to your centre.

“sei,” you whisper, trying not to squirm or give the pro player any indication of how turned on you are by his size. “c-can you move up a little? you’re squashing me.”

please and then dark grey eyes slowly blink over to you, his head cocked to the side innocently as nagi pokes his tongue into his cheek. “sorry angel, didn’t even realise,” you visibly shudder under his gaze, lips all pouty and it doesn’t take long for the switch to flip in nagi’s brain. you’re so cute and small, so needy and he’s done thing but look at you. “better yet, come sit in my lap doll. there’s plenty of room f’you here. saves me the pain of movin’.”

you don’t fight the sleepy lull in his voice, the siren’s song that calls to you and urges you to sit in nagi’s lap. in fact, your whole body melts with relief when his big arms wrap around your waist and keep you trapped over the fat, growing bulge in his sweatpants, making you leak about the place.

“s’small compared to me, angel. hardly ever notice,” the white haired striker then coos, without realising his own condescending tone. his large hands splay over your back, thumbs rubbing circles into your tummy from under your shirt. “jus’ makes me wanna do bad, bad things to you.”

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Nine

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 3,530

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature context

Notes; Final chapter for the weekend unless I'm feeling crazy and I post chapter ten on Saturday or Sunday- which could be possible. I will apologize up front because reader is annoyed with Kieran and Luke at first, but I want to make this as realistic as possible. I feel like any normal person would be a bit on edge and snappy during this whole ordeal- and also understandably scared of Sylus. I love him so much but he would come off as scary at first, even if we know he's a teddy bear. I also added some flower language, because I feel like Sylus and flowers go hand-in-hand (like Hades and Peresephone).

Another reminder, Sylus's emoji is ❤️

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Masterlist

“She won't be sleeping forever, right? She's been unconscious for a day now. Shouldn't we try waking her up?”

“Easy! Just open up a hole in the back of her head. Drill a hole in her neck and…”

Your eyes sluggishly open. Your hand still felt numb from the gun's recoil. You clench your hand into a fist a few times before looking over at the two men in the room who immediately hide the darts and drills behind their backs. You sit up, rubbing your temples, “You two-”

“You're seeing things. I'm the only one here. There is no “two”.” The man with the left horn piercing says and you raise a brow with a scoff, shaking your head as you take note of the room you're in.

The room was old and empty, dust lining mostly everything in sight. It was dark. A black-grey cotton blanket hangs off the bed frame. Once you're done looking at the room, you point to the right horn piercing man behind the first one. “Then who's that?”

You're clearly not amused and not in the mood to be gaslit.

“My soul can leave…my body…” and the right man sticks his hands through his chest, convulsing his body and you use all of your strength to not pull your hair out. “Are you stunned? Shocked? Boooring.” The right one says and you're really not finding where the joke begins and ends.

“Ahem…Hi Y/n. Before you left boss’ parlor..well, we already met. Four days ago to be exact.” Left piercing says and then right piercing continues, “We didn't just save you from that ungrateful traitor. We also brought you back to Onychinus’ base.”

“So…do you want a thank you?” You tilt your head to the side, feeling a headache coming on but you notice the wounds on your knees were well taken care of so you try your best not to take your anger out on them. Even if the twins were sent by Sylus to keep an eye on you.

While you were mentally prepared for this situation, finding yourself actually in it was a whole different ballpark. You were definitely in over your head.

You think back to what happened after you shot Sylus..

Your ears rung from the gunshot and the smell of smoke filled the air. You were finally able to have control over your actions and you immediately asked if he were crazy.

“You wanted to take my life and so you've taken it.” He held a hand on the muzzle of the gun, breathing a bit heavier now that he had blood on his face. He tossed the gun to the side, letting it clatter to the floor. “Now what? Have you already figured out how you'll pay me back?”

You were too busy in panic mode. “You can't die yet.” You pat your hand over his chest before placing both of your hands over the gunshot, worried on how you'd stop the bleeding but Sylus takes a hold of your wrists, “Why? Are you worried about me?” He chuckles, his red and black evol energy swirling under your palms. Then, he sits up. “Save that for the day you actually succeed in killing me.”

As you looked down at your shaky, bloody hand, you realized the blood faded away in a black smoke until your hand was clean.

“We know what you're thinking,” the left twin, named Luke, pulls you out of your thoughts. “But after being hunted down in the Nest, do you know how many people are out there looking for you?” “And even if you escape, you'll only get lost in the chaos of this no-man's land.” Kieran, the right twin, adds.

Did you really want to leave? It would be a good option but definitely not a smart one. Sure, you're a bit traumatized..thinking you killed a hot man and also that little voice in your head, but leaving? But if that's what they assumed then it's clear what you should be trying to do to follow the game as safely as you can.

“Wanderers will eat you up…and they also won't leave behind any crumbs so-” Luke keeps trying to say things to make you stay. “Stay here with our boss!” Kieran decides to join Luke as they say it together.

Did they…somehow think you and their boss had a thing for each other? How could they get such a wrong idea…though you wouldn't be opposed to it, you're still currently scared of him. Scared of the situation at hand.

“Throw away all morality and compassion, and this place will be a paradise!” Kieran and Luke are still talking. They sure yap a lot. “By the way, who's older? You two are basically identical twins,” you ask, trying to throw them off. “Take a guess.” Luke immediately bites the bait. “Could you come closer so I can get a better look?” You softly question, trying to seem as calm and innocent as possible.

Which seems to work, since Luke walks closer without even an ounce of suspicion. When he's within reach, you pull out a laser pointer and hold it against his neck so you can threaten him. “Hey- What're you doing!?”

“Hmm have you heard of the XT-7, the Hunters Association’s latest weapon?” You raise a brow, thumb hovering above the trigger of the laser pointer. “It's a high powered laser that can penetrate your skin and vaporize your blood. The good news is its quick and painless but…the bad news is that you'll be losing a lot of blood. Are either of you squeamish?” You shoot them an innocent smile.

The two of them fall silent before Kieran opens the door and moves aside. “Did we say you weren't allowed to leave?”

You blink a few times, pressing your lips into a thin line. Damn you and your overthinking. Gosh, that's embarrassing.

You clear your throat and step into the dimly lit hallway with both of the twins, trying to brush off your threats from earlier. “Okay, just go straight down the hall and you’ll see the exit.” Kieran says, pointing to a door as you let go of Luke, who rubs his neck and promptly rushes over to Kieran’s side to hide behind him.

Though his gaze was still on the laser pointer in your hand. It’s a shame to let it go since you had gotten it for Estelle or Leo but…”Do you want it?” You ask him with a raised brow before you toss it toward him, “Here.” Luke, who is clearly surprised, catches it, “Really? That’s very nice of you to just give away a hunter’s secret weapon.” “It’s…a laser pointer,” You cover your mouth with a hand as you laugh. “You…-” You hear the slight embarrassment in Luke’s voice.

You flash a playful smile at him, moving to step in front of them both with your hands behind your back. “Did I ever say it was the XT-7?” Your laugh slightly rings out in the empty hallway as you get further and further away from the twins, who began whispering between each other behind you.

“How far do you think she’ll get? Thirty meters?” Luke whispers to Kieran, who chuckles, “I bet not even ten steps.” “I’ll…say five then.” Luke retorts, always trying to one up his twin.

Their voices slowly fade into the background as you kept walking down the hallway. You lift your arm up to look at your hunter’s watch, a bit surprised that they left it on you but then you realize it has no signal. Great. A sigh escaping your lips. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. The corridor before you is completely dark save for a few lights littering the tops of doorways, feeling almost like an endless tunnel or some kind of catacombs. While you really didn’t expect them to be kind enough to show you the way out, leaving that room could already be considered progress. At least, the most progress you’ve made since being here.

There are several, small crystal vases on the shelf by the wall. The drooping flowers in them have already withered which is a shame since they would’ve been so pretty. You notice daffodils- also known as a narcissus flower, poppy flowers, honeysuckles, baby’s breath, and a singular red rose.

You knew a tiny bit of flower language, having noticed a sign on the wall in Jeremiah’s flower shop a few days ago and from how much you were into Greek mythology in your past life. Narcissus flowers were what distracted Persephone before she was taken by Hades, poppy flowers mean ‘I am not free’, honeysuckle means ‘devoted affection’, baby’s breath means 'everlasting love', and red roses mean ‘I love you’. You were unsure of how to interpret any of that, but the narcissus flowers stood out to you most. Sylus really did feel like Hades…so would that make you Persephone? He was the leader of the underground, the N109 Zone…

On the other side of the vases is a black bird, a crow. It’s perched on a marble pillar that’s half as tall as a human with its metal wings tucked in. Was it just a statue? You weren’t so sure since you did recall seeing a crow fly onto Sylus’ shoulder whenever you first met him. Its eyes appear to be made of rubies. They glow with a lustrous yet haunting hue in the darkness. Its eyes suddenly move, fixing its gaze on you without blinking. You jump a bit, placing a hand over your chest as you narrow your eyes. Was this thing really alive? You take a deep breath and reach toward it to make sure whenever it suddenly spreads its wings and flies toward you. Its razor sharp feathers narrowly miss the top of your head as it passes through the thin gap of an open door. To pass through the corridor, you’ll have to go through there so maybe it was trying to show you the way? You hesitate for a moment, deciding to follow the crow after a few seconds since you had nowhere else to go.

Melodious classical music seeps out from behind the door, making the corridor even more peaceful- though a bit creepy. A relaxed male voice rings out amidst the graceful song. It feels akin to hearing a monologue behind a curtain.

“...they plan to implant protocores into human hearts. Then they’ll insert the human consciousness into wanderers. Their little project has a name. The Fountain of Atei..” The unfamiliar voice says and you can hear Sylus’ bored voice from the room. “You should know I’m not interested in other people’s business..and Mephisto said you lied. You’re not even telling me everything. It’s a shame you threw away your last chance.”

Mephisto? Why does that sound familiar…Anyway, you assume that man is probably about to die soon.

“No! Please forgive me…You can still use me as a tool! I…” “Our deal is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to entertain a more important guest.” Your body tenses up and you internally curse. If you’ve learnt anything from watching movies, then you know he knew you were behind the door. You strain your ears to try and listen to more but the pleading voice is gone, almost as if it were never there in the first place. Nothing but silence remains.

Then, the music that was playing before transitions into a more gentle song played by string instruments. “Aren’t you going to come in?” You hear Sylus ask and you know he’s not talking to anyone else but you. The twins sent you in this direction for a reason.

You grumble under your breath before stepping into the room, pausing as you enter it. The room was beautiful from the clean, white tablecloth to the silverware sparkling under the light to even the ice bucket with bottles of red wine. The gory scene you envisioned wasn’t here. Inside this calm room, it was almost like the other man inside never even existed, vanishing without a trace. You suddenly felt…hungry? How could you feel hungry after hearing all of that? Sylus waltzes over to the table, picking up a decanter and stepping over to your side as he pours you a glass of wine. One of your hands grabs onto the chair in front of you, squeezing on it to try and level your head as it felt like a crushing weight was pressed down on top of it. The same suffocating feeling you felt earlier trying to resurface as one hand darts out to grab a knife from the table.

“This will be useful for defending yourself in the N109 Zone.” Sylus lets out a cold chuckle as he places a familiar gun on the table. “Are you trying to mock me or something?” You raise a brow at him, grip tightening on the knife in your hand. “I’m giving you a way out.” He states as if it's clear as day what he means, “Since you can’t escape, why don’t we make a deal?” You take a shallow breath, drinking the wine in your hand as if to steel your nerves for what comes next. “Onychinus’s modus operandi is buying and selling by force. Too bad, I’m not interested.” At least, you have to act not interested since it would be out of character for you to openly accept this without having some big reason. You drink some more wine, feeling the burning in your stomach as it was stronger than you thought but you couldn’t stop drinking. You felt too hungry, too thirsty. It’s as if you were trying to numb yourself with this sensation.

“As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make,” Sylus says as he tucks his thumbs in his pockets. His crimson eyes full of malice as he flashes a hint of a smile. Your gaze down to his smile before noticing how his tall figure blocks out some of the light…his right eye starting to glow once more. He’s got to be using some kind of power and when he uses it, you’ll be in a daze and experience auditory hallucinations.

“So many days have come and gone. You should know your own desires by now,” Sylus says as he twirls a coin around in his hand, flipping it into the air. You press your lips together in a thin line. You had a few thoughts, sure. A few desires. Some you’d rather not admit aloud. Okay, more than a few actually but that’s beside the point. What does he even want to know? “Only I can give you what you want.” His voice drops to a whisper, dripping with an emotion you can’t describe. Your hand clenches into a fist as you clear your throat and turn your head away. You wouldn’t lie, that did sound hot, but you knew he wasn’t talking about where your mind went. “And you will agree to my terms.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you refuse to be controlled by this man. “What terms?” You ask, stepping closer to Sylus as you hold your head up high to look up at him. Your head tilting to the side. “You just want me to resonate with you, right? You know what,” You shake your head with a sharp laugh, “Sure, I’ll accept this deal. It’s not like I have much leverage in this situation anyways. I resonate with you and you give me the aether core from Onychinus’s auction-'' You grab onto his hand. His fingers are long and his palm is cold, even touching his hand faintly brings forth a sense of dread.

“Release me. You can’t do that just yet.” He sighs, shaking his head and you let out a huff, “Don’t move!” You look up at him with furrowed brows, being spurred on by your want to hurry up and leave. Trying to find a hint of emotion or anything on his face and for a moment, a complex and incomprehensible struggle appears in his gaze. What could be the reason for that? Where does the power in his right eye come from? Why does it feel so oddly familiar to you? Is it related to the aether core? Time passes ever so slowly, silence filling the room. “Why is it..” You murmur under your breath but you refuse to give up, gripping his hand tighter as you try to focus on resonating with the man. It was never this difficult to resonate with the others, so why wasn’t it working now? The invisible pressure swelling around you becomes stronger and the alcohol inside you was gradually subsiding as you slowly realized you made a very dangerous move.

You blink a few times and let out a small, awkward laugh. “Ah…” You straighten your posture and quietly try to let go of Sylus’ hand and yet for all his denying from earlier, he grips your hand more tightly, not allowing you to pull away from him. “Maybe…I’ve been too kind to you.” His voice deeply drawls as he keeps a firm grip on your hand. You couldn’t even try to pull away if you wanted to now. “You- let go!” Your cheeks are puffed up in a pout, not even noticing how comfortable you’re getting with him.

“Even if you keep holding on to me like this, I can’t resonate with you. It’s not something I can just do on a whim! I could do it so easily with…” You stop yourself from finishing your sentence and Sylus raises a brow, “Hmm…after all that arrogance, it seems like you can’t even control your own evol.” “...at the very least it doesn’t want to be activated in front of you,” You murmur under your breath as you pout, lowering your gaze away from him. Though once you look back up at him, you notice his gaze is on your interlocked hands. He stares at them blankly for a few minutes before he finally begins to let go. You rub your wrists and take a few steps back, your breathing and heartbeat gradually returning back to normal.

You both were at a standstill. Then, with a thoughtful expression, he leans back in his chair and looks at you. “Just as I thought. You’re too weak.” He rests his hand under his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face. Is everyone in the N109 Zone weird? Because you like to think you’ve gotten a considerable amount stronger, especially since you’ve been training for two months now. Sylus pinches the area between his brow, then raps his knuckles against the table. “Eat as much as you want.” He says those words like he’s giving out an order that won’t be questioned.

You look over all of the food on the table, suddenly being reminded of the Hades and Persephone myth. The specific part where if you eat the food of the Underworld then you’re trapped there. Your gaze lands on an oddly coincidental pomegranate on the table. “What? Are you..” The word ‘insane’ hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you force yourself to stop talking. You turn to look back at the long, seemingly endless table behind you. It is certainly filled with a wide variety of food but the lavishness of it is almost dizzying. Any other time it would probably be quite attractive for a man to be showing off his wealth like this but you’re unsure of how to feel since you don’t know just where all of this wealth came from.

“I’ll give you ten minutes. After you’re done, come find me outside the base’s entrance. You better hope our deal is successful. Otherwise, consider this your last meal.” You tense up as Sylus walks past you to leave the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and drop to the ground, your knees giving out. “Jesus christ…” You mutter, exasperated. This was not normal at all. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to get used to any of this but you can’t ponder much on it as you feel a buzzing in your pocket. “What-” You reach in and pull your phone out. Why the hell did you still have your phone? You check your new messages and see one from a random number, getting flashbacks to the unknown number before you woke up in this world but turns out, it’s just Sylus.

❤️ :’Ten minutes. Dont forget.’

You roll your eyes, pulling out a chair to sit down as you tell him to make it twenty since you haven’t eaten in a day or two. You decide to push your worries about Hades and Persephone aside, changing his nickname in your phone to ‘Hades’ before you start eating. If you’re going to keep up this act of being fine, then you really need some food in your system.

If the dialogue feels a bit stiff, that's because it is. It's so hard to fit my own words into the story itself whenever there's so much dialogue. I can't have what I want the reader to say, because the storyline is too built up on what the original mc says and her reactions to the world around her...but I will criticize her every action as the reader's thoughts, because some things that she does are rather dumb. Or they don't make sense for the narrative.

Chapter ten is another one of my favourites and includes more flower language so I hope you're excited for it 🩷 I think flower language is so pretty and really fits 'Love and Deepspace'. Because just a single flower can tell a big story. Like the flowers I chose, in-game there wasn't any flowers at all. In the vase, they were wilted so instead, I just looked up flower language and chose a few to tell a narrative! These are the small changes I wanted to do with the original story so I hope they don't catch y'all too off guard.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes

[steviewashere]

Stay Away

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied Major Character Death, Ambiguous Ending, Canon Injuries/Gore Tags: Pre-Season 4, Season 4, Angst, Time Travel AU, Injured Steve Harrington, Traumatized Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Saves Eddie Munson, Stubborn Eddie Munson, Confused Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Lives, Plot Twist That I Can't Tag Because It Would Spoil The Plot, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 6 Prompt: "Who did this?"

⌛️—————⌛️ The last thing Eddie’s expecting on his Saturday night is to open the trailer’s front door to see Steve Harrington with a filthy face and even worse body. He’s standing like a weeping willow, hunched into himself, holding his own elbows. His usually styled hair is a stringy, wet mop atop his head—what must’ve resulted from the heavy rainstorm that just ended a few minutes ago. Considering his usual appearances, his outfit is out of the ordinary: grey pleated pants that look similar to sweats, bare feet that are equally as filthy as his face—possibly even more, that typical brown watch of his now with a cracked face, bandages around his middle that look more like t-shirt scraps, and a denim vest with pins and patches that are identical to the ones Eddie wears on his own—in fact, it honestly looks like his, which is impossible considering it’s on his dresser. There’s dirt caked around his hairline, lips, and cheeks. Red rash that spreads on the backs of his arms, just barely visible on the sides for Eddie to spot. And then there’s blood seeping through the scraps.

He’s unsettled, to say the least.

“Wha—Harrington? What in the actual fucking hell is happening right now? Who…Who did this?” He asks, gesturing vaguely at Steve’s outline. There’s something to say, too about his face. That it’s seemingly older. Aged in all these terrible ways—not smile lines and cute crows feet. No, Steve Harrington has dark shadows under his eyes and etches between his eyebrows from furrowing them, a tight bite in his jaw, and impossible to place little white scars. Nothing of what Eddie knows of pristine, well-off, douchebag Steve Harrington from the Family Video counter.

They don’t run in circles close to each other at all. But Eddie’s heard rumors. Heard about Steve’s asshole, overbearing parents—the lengths they take for that perfect “All-American” image of the modern family. About Steve and his prissy habits: positioning strands of hair with spray and gel in the men’s restrooms around town, reapplying sprits of cologne whenever he so damn well feels like it, and plucking every little fiber off his clothes.

The Steve Harrington in front of him looks like he was dished and served by fucking Mohammad Ali. He stands with a frightful panic in his limbs that typically belongs to somebody like Wayne, a veteran soldier. And…god, he absolutely reeks. Like sewer and metal and rot.

Rot.

Eddie takes a step closer, the screen door smacking his backside, but stops abruptly when Steve flinches and his eyes gain a level of clarity that Eddie only sees in psychedelics users. He stops. Gauging. Waiting.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. “Eddie,” he says like he’s relieved.

He leans his weight away from Steve, putting it all on his back foot. Eyes wide and surely full of apprehension. Why would somebody like Steve Harrington be relieved to see him? “That’s me,” Eddie mutters skeptically, “what do you want? Who did this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve brushes off. He takes a confident step forward, bypassing any movement Eddie makes to block him from entering the trailer. He’s standing in the center of the living room by the time Eddie actually turns around in the doorway and comes back inside. Eyes roaming around the entire room. Catching on the Garfield mug and the empty carpet below his disgusting feet and the huge water leak stain on the ceiling. Then, he looks back at Eddie. Wide eyes. Tears glazing them. A slight trembling working through all his limbs—not like he’s cold, more like a crash of adrenaline.

At a closer look, at a better look in the glow of light from the living space, Steve’s exhausted.

“You sell ketamine,” Steve states, “and you…you keep it here. In the trailer.”

“How do you”—

“This Friday, March 21st, you’re going to conduct a drug deal with the blonde girl on the cheer squad, Chrissy Cunningham. She…she meets you at your picnic table in the woods. And she’s jumpy, a very unusual thing for her. She’s startled by your presence and you’re going to be skeptical about her state of mind. You’re apprehensive about selling to her, but she insists that she’s okay. You”—

Eddie takes a striding step towards Steve, meeting him toe to socked feet on the carpet. His face hot and his eyebrows heavy above his eyes. He holds out a hand to stop Steve. “Are you fucking spying on me? What kind of prank is this? This isn’t fucking funny, man. Even coming from a clown like you.”

“I…I’m not messing around, man,” Steve quietly says. His voice takes on a timid quality. He holds onto his elbows tighter, fingernails clearly digging into his already fragile skin. The blood on his bandages is getting darker and messier, but he pays no mind to it. Eddie doesn’t really want to touch that topic either, even if he may have to help with whatever…butt ugly thing has happened.

A moment later, Steve takes a deep breath and continues, “She wanted weed from you. You weren’t sure why she’d associate with you, but you guys would fall into a quick and polite conversation. You invite her to a gig at the Hideout to watch you and the rest of Corroded Coffin play. But she…” Steve trails at that. Swallows hard, eyes going far away. His skin gaining a movie-made green tint.

“Woah,” Eddie murmurs, placing his hands carefully on Steve’s shoulders, dodging any exposed injuries he can see. He turns Steve around and begins to direct him towards the sofa—trying, with all his might, to ignore the Dio patch on the back of his vest. And to also ride-by the bright red marring on Steve’s arms, the blood prickling through the denim. He instead gingerly sits Steve down on one of the cushions, leaning him back to rest his head atop the back of the sofa. “Take it easy, Harrington. Don’t need you spilling your guts and passing out in my home.”

Steve closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. Gives a quick, short nod. But he doesn’t completely relax into his position. Still holding his arms and rigid through the rest of his body.

Eddie swallows, and in a gentler tone, asks again, “Who did this? What are you doing here?”

“You won’t believe me,” Steve murmurs, “and I don’t want to tell you.”

“Well, I sorta want to know…considering you seem to know everything about my drug deal appointments. Did somebody set you up to this? Are there goonies waiting outside to fucking jump my bones?”

He shakes his head, damp hair sticking to the fabric of the couch. Sadly, he utters, “I’m trying to keep you safe. And I don’t have a lot of time. I just need you to hear me out, okay?”

Taking in that stillness to Steve’s whole body and the graveness in his tone, Eddie finally agrees. “Okay,” he says, “but for the record, if this is your way of making friends or whatever, you’re doing a piss poor job at it.”

Some of the tension in Steve’s shoulders melts away, a snort in response to what Eddie said. But then he forces himself to be serious again. Continuing in a terribly soft, weak voice, “She ends up wanting something stronger than what you have. Because she feels like she’s losing her mind. So you postpone the deal. You go to school. You finish the day. You have your Hellfire campaign—the curse of Vecna or whatever—with Dustin, Mike, Lucas’s little sister, Erica, Gareth, Jeff, and Freak. When you’re done, you drive Chrissy back here. You make her wait in the living room. You try and find where you put the ketamine.

“You find it in your bedroom. And when you come back from your room…” Steve visibly shudders at this point in his explanation. His chest seizes with his breath and he seems to swallow a golfball. Then, “She’s going to die in here. And you’re going to get scared and you’re going to run. Because you…you didn’t know what to do. So you get in your van and then you abandon it and then you stay in this boathouse…

“Long story short, you’re going to be wanted for murder. You’ll be on the run for several days. Before you eventually…You die.”

And the way Steve says that, of all things, finally sinks a stone in Eddie’s stomach. Something in that last sentence says it all.

Steve Harrington is not here for shits and giggles. He knows of something darker, stronger, and more evil than this world can comprehend. And this, in itself, is the warning of a life time. Because he knows. First hand.

“You know that…how do you know that?”

“There’s these creatures that fucking chew you up, like they did to me”—he states, while gesturing at himself—“but they get you worse. You run at them. You try and kill them. There’s too many. You die.

“I almost died, too,” he tacks on a second later. “But you’re going to die in Dustin’s arms. And he’s going to be so fucking distraught with you. And you don’t graduate high school, even though you kept claiming it was your year. And you don’t survive. You…Fuck. You’ve never survived.

“This is my last shot at stopping you. I’ve tried going to different iterations of you. Tried to get you to fucking slow your roll and look at the world in a bigger picture, but you always betray me—I mean, you always betray us. You always die. And I can’t let that happen.

“So here I am, before the storm.”

With that, Steve finally goes completely silent. Wheezing breaths through his nose, yes. But he melts into the couch. Eyes open and far away as they continue to eye that wretched water stain on the ceiling. There are tears ready to pour down his face. And sobs that threaten to crack from his still seizing chest. His cheeks are ruddy and still dirty, though a bit sunken and pasty. Like maybe it’s been a little while since he’s had a proper meal, proper sleep, a proper break.

And though this whole story sounds sort of like an excellent D&D campaign, Eddie knows it to be non-fiction, not fable. Because Steve Harrington has never been one to excel in the art of storytelling, as apparent by the fact that he nearly failed his senior English class alongside Eddie the one year they had together. Also because he can’t make a reference even if it was the thing to end all bad.

But knowing about Hellfire? Knowing the exact names of Eddie’s close friends, outside of Mike and Dustin and Lucas—who, admittedly, all talk about Steve like he’s some norse god. Him knowing the exact date and customer Eddie had planned to meet with, despite that being extremely disclosed information…Well, it’s hard to discount whatever Steve has said.

One thing sticks out to him, though.

The fact that Steve has tried and tried and tried to save Eddie. Even through his stubbornness. Even through his refusal to follow orders. Even though, considering who he is as a person, Eddie’s never thought of himself worth saving. But to Steve? The efforts he’s seemingly had to go to, make Eddie seem like some treacherous, tragic lover straight from a Shakespeare play.

Steve Harrington can’t quote Shakespeare to save his fucking life, Eddie knows this firsthand—English class, again, was very unkind to the both of them.

Fuck, Eddie finally thinks, he’s serious.

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, absorbing, “you’re here to save me, supposedly. What should I do to help you?” He leans forward a little, looking at the front of Steve’s face, hoping that maybe he can get a little eye contact. Though, it’s sort of pointless, Steve won’t take his eyes off of that stupid stain. He isn’t judging it though, almost considering it as the monster that Wayne joked it was. “Because, I’ll be honest,” he quickly adds, “seeing you like this on my couch was not on the top of my fantasies list. This is uh…very alarming, if I may say. And I’d like it if you were not bleeding out and turning into some weird green goblin creature on my couch.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve croaks dryly. It doesn’t really land as a sarcastic joke, though. More like a pathetic little thing. An almost hopeless endeavor.

Steve finally sits up a bit. Head lolled back down. Eyes still distant and foggy and glistening. But they’re looking at Eddie now, so he’ll take that as something. He opens his mouth, the inside blood red and noticeably dry. Murmurs, “Don’t sell drugs to Chrissy Cunningham this week. Don’t ever sell her anything. Pull her aside on Friday morning and tell her that the deal is off. Make up some excuse, doesn’t matter what, I don’t care what you say. But you have to keep her away. When you’re done with the Hellfire campaign, you come straight home. No ifs, ands, or buts. You come home. And you wait for Wayne. And you enjoy your weekend, okay?” 

When he’s done, eyes imploring and wide, he reaches out for Eddie’s hands. Takes them in his own without asking. His skin is dry, sticky with something, and warm. There’s dirt caked under his fingernails. Blood on his knuckles, in the webs connecting his fingers. There’s blood and dirt all over him. And, yeah really up close, he’s about ready to drop off the face of the planet, fall into some dreamland and never wake up. Maybe, even, cry until his eyelids are red raw and sore.

He knows he can’t be the reason for Steve’s destruction, not like this, anyway.

Eddie breathes, “Yeah, okay.”

“Promise, Eds,” Steve states, straining and choked, “promise that you’ll be safe. I can’t—You can’t die on me again, please.”

Why couldn’t he just listen the first time Steve asked? He could upchuck at any minute from the desperation in Steve’s voice. He can’t deny him this.

He squeezes Steve’s hands tightly, so hard he fears he may break the bones. Fiercely, “I promise, Steve. I’ll stay safe. No drug dealing for me. You won’t need to worry.”

Another sharp, short nod. And then Steve is completely removing himself from the couch. Standing tall and looming, wincing in pain from whatever marks lay beyond those scraps of shirt on his torso. He doesn’t say anything else. Tracks Eddie’s eyes for a second longer. Then, in speeds too quick to really catch, he’s walking out the door.

The last thing Eddie sees of Steve Harrington that night is the denim vest slowly fade from his back, the rashes on his arms giving way to a more disgusting, bloody, deeper mess. The bandages disappearing, no longer existing, as if they weren’t there in the first place. Blood on his back. And his skin pale, translucent nearly.

It’s almost like…

Like the Steve Harrington that left him is dead.

⌛️—————⌛️

[iridescentprose]

your dangerously stupid little idiot - steve harrington x sinclair!reader insert

author's note: a long overdue steve fic that's been sitting in the drafts. i miss steve.

divider by: @bunnysrph

summary; you're in a secret relationship with steve - fluff; no warnings

The sound of laughter and the consistent thud of footsteps coming up the stairs made you groan. Although you'd much rather stick to your hermit agenda, you promised your parents you would keep the door to your room open, ensuring that your younger siblings and their friends didn't burn down the house without you knowing about it.

Hunched at your desk, you were busy with your nose in a book until a sudden incessant taping at your doorway got a little too annoying for comfort.

"Nice Van Halen poster."

"That's Bauhaus, idiot," you said, while your heart began to drum in your ears. You kept your back turned to him, eyes trained on the same sentence you had been reading ever since you heard Harrington's voice from downstairs. "What are you doing here, anyway? I don't remember Lucas inviting you over."

You heard him shuffle across your room —over to the poster with four Caucasian men clad in grey suits and dark sunglasses. You heard your bed creak, followed by an exaggerated sigh. You looked over your shoulder.

"Steve—"

"How come you don't have a picture of me on your wall?" He's lying in the center of your bed, legs hanging off the edge while his eyes are fixated on the Bauhaus poster above your headboard.

You sighed and shut your book before swiveling to face your boyfriend. "Because I'm not a psychopath...and last I checked, you can't carry a tune to save your life, Harrington." Abandoning your book, your walked over and grabbed his wrist, initiating a game of tug of war with a weak start.

Steve chuckled as he sat up, his body flopping forward like a limp noodle as he gave into your lack of strength. "Hey, hey. What's the rush? We're not going to get caught. Your parents aren't here."

"Yeah, but Erica and Lucas are. We'll be over before we've even started—"

You shook your head, a hot flash rising to your cheeks as the word 'dating' got stuck in your throat.

The word made you cringe. It made feel you like were in one of those lovesick romance movies whenever you said it. An unfamiliar queasiness rose in your stomach as Steve rose an eyebrow.

Crap.

You had been caught.

"What was that?" Steve stood up straight, towering over you, his features laced with an alert sense of curiosity. He had stepped forward now, nearly trapping you between him and the wall. You still had a hold on his wrist. "I didn't hear that last part, Sinclair. 'We'll be over before we've even started...?'"

You rolled your eyes. "Cut the crap, Harrington. You know what this is," you hissed under your breath, eyes darting to the open door that could expose your secret any minute.

"Yeah, but I don't think I've ever heard you say it out loud before," he said with an amused grin on his lips. A tendril of his hair loomed over the center of his forehead. You resisted the urge to brush it back into place. Now wasn't the right time for that.

Now wasn't the right time for whatever this was.

"If you don't get out of my room, you're not going to live to hear me say it."

With a small grunt, you pulled him by the wrist, guiding him to the threshold of your door. He's stumbling behind you, stifling a laugh and purposefully dragging his feet until they reach the creaky floorboards of the hallway. You then maneuver around him, taking your place in front of your door as you wait for your boyfriend to retreat back down the stairs.

But as smooth as a criminal, Steve turns around, arms braced against the doorway, feet locked into place. He has no intentions of moving until he gets what he wants.

"Harrington," you whisper, lowering your voice as you both were now in closer proximity to the stairs and Erica's room down the hall.

"Sinclair."

Seconds of silent staring pass before you sigh in defeat.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"But, I'm your idiot," Steve says, his face lingering close to yours. He's wearing a contagious smile that has somehow slid across the thin space between you and jumped on your face. "Now, are you going to repeat what you said earlier or am I going to have the privilege of properly introducing myself to my future in-laws?"

Crossing your arms, you lifted your chin and narrowed your eyes. He always found a way to have the upper hand, even if it made him look dangerously stupid. But as dangerously stupid as the thought of Steve introducing himself as your boyfriend to your parents and siblings was, you couldn't stop your lips from twitching upwards.

"I said," you started, your voice getting lower which each word, "If my brother or sister finds out that you're in my room, we'll be over before we've even started dating for a month."

You swallowed your embarrassment, your eyes falling to your shoes as the word tumbled out of your mouth. Steve had asked you officially to be his girlfriend only two weeks ago and you still couldn't admit out loud that you were dating him. Let alone in secret.

Having Lucas and Erica find out before your parents would be an never ending nightmare. Your parents had forbade you from dating until you had finished school. Thankfully, you only had a few more months and then —and only then—did you plan on making your relationship with Steve known to your parents.

"See?" Steve said, tilting your chin upwards. "Was that so hard?"

But before you could say 'yes' with gritted teeth, Steve had pecked your lips, leaving you speechless.

"I'll see at Family Video on Friday?" He whispered, already backing away from you as laughter came from the room right down the hall.

"Uh, yeah," you said, trying to keep your head straight. "Family Video. Friday," you confirmed long after he had vanished down the steps.

You leaned against your doorway, massaging your temples as you fought the smile on your lips.

"That boy is going to be the death of me," you mumbled to yourself before retreating back into your room and rereading the same sentence of your book all over again.

[sinsandsweetness]

Shane. Shane’s stuck in my head. I wonder if he and Rick got up to any shenanigans late at night in the police station with a cute girl…. I know Rick probably just watched but dang. Just thinking about it 👀 and if Merle and Daryl were in the drunk tank next to the cell…..

Shane is forever stuck in my head <3 I usually don't go for the pre-apocalypse au's but damn. this one got me dreamin' and drooling....

pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)

cw- dub con? just a power imbalance more than anything, mentions of drunk driving, very suggestive but no actual smut. 1.4k wc

“You��ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You walk past the two officers, both a little shocked by your vulgar language. Reaching the bars and seeing Merle grinning like a madman. Drunk. Clearly. Smelling of bourbon and poor decisions. 

“Aw, sugar-tits! I knew you’d come. Daryl says you wouldn’t n’ I says oh yesss she will,” he slurs his words. “And here you are! Our saving grace.”

You immediately turn to face Daryl. Bags under his eyes, elbows leaning on his knees while he sits on the bench. Clearly just as tired and irritated as you are. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You smack him on the shoulder with your bag. “I could barely pay rent this month. There's an eviction notice on my damn door and you think I can afford to bail your lousy, drunk of a brother out of- "

His eyes go wide at your confession, shooting up to grab your hand. 

“You don’t have to keep living with that loser, you know you can come stay with me-“

You shake him off. Blood starting to boil with irritation. “That’s not the point, Dare! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep saving his ass whenever you two need it.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Attempting to contain the flood of emotions that the week's events are summoning. 

“How much is it?” you brace yourself for the worst. Subconsciously knowing that whatever disgusting number you were picturing, would still be better than whatever Daryl was about to say.

“… 500.” 

“Fuckin' hell, Dare.” He gives you a look that reflects exactly how you feel. Apologetic. Angry. And so fucking tired.

With a deep breath, you tell him you’re going to try and talk to the cops that brought Merle in. To see if there's any way you can work something out. 

Pulling your skirt down slightly, in an attempt to be more modest for the police than you are for the men you wait on, you make your way over to the men. The tall one, dark hair and handsome in an almost intimidating way, is standing at the counter, chewing on a toothpick. The other is just as handsome, though in a softer way. Pretty blue eyes and an unsurprising wedding band adorning his left hand. He sits behind the desk as he fills something out on the computer. The satisfying click and clack of the keyboard, times almost perfectly with that of your heels on the grey linoleum. 

You approach the two with your sweetest smile, full of remorse. Your pretty eyes scream 'pity me' and you pray that the officers are kind enough to listen.

Immediately, you notice the way that the dark haired one stares down your blouse as you come to a stop. Taking a little breath for courage before starting your little spiel. 

“Hi.” You can't help but blush a little at the look that Officer Handsome is giving you. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What can we help you with?” He licks his lips and can't seem to contain the way they curl into a cheeky grin.

“My friend there, the uh, dumbass behind the bars…. well, you see he’s just, um…” pull yourself together, baby. “He fucked up. And I know that. He knows that. Even if it doesn't really seem like it. He really fucked up and if this were any other week, me and his brother over there, we would have more than enough money for his bail. We just.. Um, don't have it right now. So, I was wondering if there's any way we could work something out, like a payment plan or…”

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks, obviously uninterested in your proposal. 

Mouth agape at the bold interruption, you respond hesitantly, glancing back at Daryl for a second.

“Uh, no but…” 

“Really? Pretty boy over there… he’s what? Just a friend?” he nods towards Daryl, who can't quite hear but is obviously intrigued, and trying to assess how the conversation is going.

“Yeah, we're just friends… why?” 

He ignores your question again, hand coming up to touch the cross pendant on your chest, “Cute necklace.” He smirks again, this time at the way your breath hitches at his touch. Fingers moving over to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. 

“Shane.” The officer at the desk scolds his partner. Unimpressed but seemingly unphased by his behaviour, not even glancing up from the document he's reading.

“Ricky, c'mon. Look at her. Ain’t she gorgeous? What the hell are you doin' hanging out with these idiots?”

Apparently Daryl could hear that remark because you hear a faint, unimpressed, “Hey!” come from the bench behind you. 

“Dare, sit down.” You tell him, with a scowl on your face as he sighs and sits back down and leaned into his hands once again. Praying for the night to just be over already.

“His brother is the idiot, he’s just… too loyal for his own good.”

The officer, Shane, nods his head, continuing to inspect you. Black mini skirt and button up blouse, curly hair cascading over your shoulders. Smelling like vanilla and vodka and whatever body oil is making your long legs shimmer so beautifully in the fluorescent lights.

“What are you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks. Apparently intrigued by your attire.

“I'm a waitress. I was just walking home from the bar as I got their call.” The constant dreaded call to come bail Merles drunk driving ass out of jail. 2:00 am on a friday, and you should have known they'd get themselves into trouble.

“You know, this is his third time. We've already taken his license. Impounded his car. If you don't have the money then…there's really not much I can do.” Shane tells you, that wicked grin still splayed on his face.

“You can leave him 'til morning, come back when you have the money.” Rick offers, finally putting the papers down and leaning back in his chair. One boot crossed over his knee as he relaxed into the leather cushion.

“And how the hell do you propose I come up with 500 dollars overnight?” You try not to sound so rude, but you’re tired and cold and Merles drunk babbling from the cell is really starting to piss you off.

The two men share a look and you feel goosebumps raise on your bare legs.

“Pretty girl like you… shouldn't be too hard.” Shane says, flicking his toothpick into the bin.

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, “I'm not some kind of whore, you know.” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling a little exposed in the excessively cold air conditioning.

“Of course not. That’s not what I meant, sweetheart.”

“Then what'd you mean, huh?” 

“Yeah, Shane, what did you mean?” Rick crosses his own arms, entertained by his friend getting himself stuck in such an awkward predicament. 

“Yeah, Shane. Why don't you expand on that for us.” You lean against the counter and he shakes his head with an annoyingly attractive laugh, which you can't help but smile at. Forcing you to forgive his crude suggestion almost immediately.

“You gonna give me your number or what?” he says, leaning up beside you.

“I’ll give you a whole lot more than my number if you can get his bail waved.” You bite your lip and nod towards Merle in the holding cell.

“Thought you said you weren't a whore.” 

“Shane-” Rick hisses, warning his friend to tone it down. They're supposed to be officers of the law after all. Though you aren't really offended. You would fuck the man for free if he asked.

“You got an office here or something?” Your left hand starts to play with the keys on his belt, slowly making their way to the buckle, where you tap your french tips a few times, looking up at him with a look so sickeningly sweet, his cock actually twitches. 

He thinks for a moment, letting you pull at the leather band until he’s flush with your core.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, realizing you’re actually serious. Deciding to give in to your downright sinful suggestion. “Rick. Turn off the cameras in the interrogation room.” He turns to his partner. Blue eyes, all wide and dumbstruck.

“Shane, that’s illegal-”

Shane grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the room, talking over his shoulder, “Rick. Cut the fuckin’ cameras." His lips brush your ear as turns to whisper, nudging you forward, "I’d ask him to join, but I already know he won't." You smirk at his confession, looking back at Rick and silently wish the ring on his finger wasn't there.

Shane directs his attention at Rick once more, "You can watch from the glass if you’re feelin’ left out.” 

You can't help but giggle as you enter the room. Empty, aside from a metal chair and table. Shane pauses at the doorway, catching the attention of Daryl from down the hall.

“You too, pretty boy. This is for your brother's sake after all.”

-continued here

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @eternalrose81 @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee

(what the hell do I name this fic??)

also I don’t know shit about jail so… don’t come for me lol

[imfinereallyy]

cw: drugs, morally grey characters

The bathroom doesn’t give the kind of quiet Steve needs right now.

What should have he expected in a club on Friday night?

Fuck, think Harrington. What would Robin do?

She probably wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place, that’s what. God she is going to kill him if he doesn’t check in later.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to get comfortable on his spot on the toilet. His jeans are going to be disgusting later.

The bass thumped loudly throughout the bathroom. The walls shook as the music makes its way in as the door swings open with each patron rushing in out.

He is never going to get the kind of privacy he needs to get out of this.

The red glow of the lights seems more fitting for a place for people to fuck in rather than take a piss, but Steve supposes that maybe it’s the point.

Coming to blank, the point was to either get fucked or get fucked up.

Running his hands through his hair, Steve went over his options.

1. He has a knife in his boot. Steve isn’t afraid of the consequences of killing a man, his soul lost the right to be saved a long time ago. But he doesn’t feel too good about killing someone at random. Death should have a point if it is coming from the hands of a man. He’ll leave the pointless deaths up to a god he doesn’t believe in.

2. He can try and make a break for it. He only has a sea of partiers to get through, at least half of them on coke or molly. And make it to the parking lot without getting caught by security, and then find a way to get home.

Fuck.

3. Dump the drugs, flush them down the toilet. Worry about money later.

Considering the guy after him is a fucking FBI agent, and Steve would love nothing more to get rid of a glorified cop, he doesn’t feel like putting his face on the top of FBI’s most wanted list.

Flushing it is.

Steve takes the baggies of coke out of his pockets. Sure, he won’t go away for long if the agent caught him with it, but it will give the bureau an opportunity to try and get him to talk, and Steve despite popular belief isn’t fucking stupid. He isn’t going to talk.

Even if he wants to, Steve is sure that his head would have a pretty little bullet hole in it before he even steps into court for arraignment.

No matter who his father is. Maybe especially cause so.

Steve can feel the sweat start to pool at the bottom of his shirt. He hasn’t taken anything tonight, maybe he should thank that mythical god he doesn’t believe in for that one. But Steve’s stress is going up with the temperature of the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Steve stands and kicks up the rim of the toliet, he can’t afford to miss.

His head starts to pound with the base.

Bump. Bump. Bump. Slam.

The world crashes with noise. Steve has no time before his stall door is thrown open. Steve forgot to lock the fucking door.

Steve throws his hands up, baggies still in his hands, sweat dripping down his back. Chest heaving up and down, Steve is frozen at the sight in front of him.

It’s not the FBI, which is good.

It’s not his boss, which is better.

But in front of him, is one of the most beautiful men he has ever seen. A dark shadow lit up but the red lights. Long, curly black hair falls upon a red silk shirt. Tattoos, rings, piercings…everywhere. Big brown eyes staring directly at Steve.

Gorgeous…

Unfortunately he’s not only one of the most beautiful men out there….

“Hey there princess.”

…but also the most dangerous..

“I believe you have something that interests me.” The man all but growls.

Eddie fucking Munson.

Steve finds the courage to speak, “Yea, what’s that?”

A wicked grin spreads across his lips, “A ticket in.”

Steve’s worried he might have to make a deal with the devil.

🪩🫧🍸 🔪🥂🫧✧˖°

[sailorshadzter]

jonsa prompt - jon snow who was brought back wrong reunites with the girl in grey. it wasn't arya as he hoped, but it was sansa.

thank you anon!!!

any excuse to write something for their reunion is fine by me hehehe

send me prompts

The man who rises from the dead is not the one who drifted away. 

The man that Jon Snow has become since his trip to the underworld was a cold one, a hardened man, far more stoic than the man he’d been before. In a world that once seemed vivid with color, with life, or as much as it could be in the cold, dreary war torn North, now seems listless and gray. There was nothing left for this man he'd become- betrayed by those he thought himself closest to, left behind in death by the remainder of his family, there was not a soul in this world left to save, save for maybe Ghost, that gave him an ounce of feeling at all. 

Yet, the red priestess’ words echo in his heart, in his mind… I have seen your sister in my fires… Fleeing from this marriage  they have made for her… Coming here… To you… A girl in gray on a dying mare… I have seen it plain as day… It hasn’t happened yet, but it will… 

His sister… Once, Jon Snow might have dared to believe it, to think that his sweet sister Arya would be riding to him, the one person who could protect her, who could save her from this supposed marriage being made for her… The old him would have sworn on any god that he would do just that… But he was not that man. 

Not anymore. 

So when a few days after his resurrection the gates to Castle Black creak open, he’s surprised, perhaps more so by his own need to step outside, to ensure that this sudden visitor was no one but some lost travelers. The remaining men could feed them, warm them, then send them off- or kill them, really, it mattered very little to this new Jon Snow. 

From his place at the top of the stairs, he watches as three horses come through the gates, bearing a woman knight, young and blonde, with hair cropped short as a man, but with shoulders as broad as a mountain. A man rides just behind her, dark haired and uncertain, looking around at what remained of the Night’s Watch. And then… He sees her.

She rides through last, a hood drawn up over her head, her cloak tattered and gray. The mare beneath her looks as if it’s not eaten, not watered, nor even rested- it’s how all three of the horses look, now that he pays them a closer glance- so she slows it to a stop and looks around. The woman knight is already on the ground, coming around to the side so she might help this young woman down from her saddle. Jon cannot breathe, cannot think, certainly cannot feel… Yet… 

There’s something pulsing in his chest… It takes him but a moment later to realize it’s the steady pace of his very own heart. 

He can feel it once more. 

His breath catches, the name of that long lost younger sister dying on his lips… “... Arya…” So soft that not even Edd at his side can hear him speak. Still yet, he dares not to believe the sight before him, not even as he takes the first step down. He dares not to believe as she turns to face him, their eyes locking for the first time… Blue eyes. 

Blue eyes he remembers, blue eyes he’s not seen in years. 

Blue eyes that did not belong to Arya. 

For a single moment there is a flicker of disappointment rushing through him, but it fades as quickly as it came as she lowers the hood she wears, revealing the mane of red hair that tumbles down her back in tangled braids. Now there is a new name on his lips, but the sound of it is drowned out by the crunching of snow beneath his boots, his every step leading him out to the center of the courtyard, to where she stands, waiting, watching… 

It was Sansa. 

He stands so close now that he can hear the slow intake of her breath, swollen, frozen lips letting it out in a cloud of white. She wears grief like a heavy cloak, it weighs her down, those blue eyes haunted in their stare as she curls a hand into a fist at her side. He doesn’t know it yet, but beneath those tattered layers, she wears the bruises of a man’s fists. He doesn’t know it yet, but beneath that bruised skin, she wears trauma deep into her very bones. The breath catches in her throat and he’s swallowing against the rising tide of emotions within him- feelings he thought he’d lost are coming back, one after another. 

And then… He opens his arms. 

And she comes running.

It wasn’t Arya… it wasn’t Arya…

It was Sansa. 

[anthropologyruinseverything]

New fic series! WWE Mafia AU

Welcome to what is essentially my dark romance, junk food series. I want to practice writing in the genre so here we go! Plz see CW warnings. There are 3 fulls stories and a 1 shot planned, I will be writing stories and one-shots as part of this universe as time goes on. As of right now Jey, Damian, Roman and Tama are in the works but I’d like to expound so hit me with recs!

(They may take time to write)

Now on with it.

18+ only from here plz - minors dni

Sea & Moon

Jey Uso x IndigenousFMC

Summary: Nokomis “Kiki” Levy was a normal twenty year old college student whose biggest concerns were passing chemistry and what graduate programs would want to see on an application.

Joshua “Jey” Fatu is thirty-one and has recently been appointed heir apparent of his father’s branch of their families shadowy enterprise and needs to prove himself up to the task.

Their worlds collide when Kiki’s father, a detective with SFPD, gets too close to Jey’s family business. While they start as enemies there is an undeniable burn between them. Will a much larger threat be their end or give them a chance to thrive together?

🚨It’ll be a dark journey for the Levy girls, please heed content warnings that include mild n0n-con between main characters, dubious consent, violence, mentions of difficult topics such as substance abuse, mental health issues and more. There will be various k!nks such as prim@l play, masks, captiv!ty, 🔪 play, ch0king, and more. The boys are morally grey to black but love and obsess over their ladies.

There is an HEA for everyone! I probably won’t post more than the prologues and one shots here on Tumblr and leave the really dark stuff on AO3. I will post links though and just drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any further updates.

## Prologue

**Nokomis “Kiki” POV**

⭐️*character note, Kiki has vitiligo which affects her face over her right eye, her hands and other other areas.

It was just supposed to be another regular movie night at home with my sister and cousin, nothing unusual or life altering. The same sort of thing we did almost every Saturday night since we could remember. I didn’t think twice when my folks decided on a last minute date night while we three girls piled onto the couch for comedies and popcorn, waving them off as if I’d see them in a few hours.

I wished I’d hugged them tighter and longer. As if that would have somehow stopped what happened next.

Not long after my parents had left my dad’s retired K9 partner Atlas started going insane, running back and forth to the back door and barking. I assumed he was interested in a rabbit or some other critter like a possum in the backyard so I hushed him and sent him to his crate for acting so crazy. In the long run I’d probably saved his life but I had still wished for his protection with what came next.

We never heard the back door locks being picked or footsteps in the kitchen. Between the movie, our laughter and the occasional dog bark nothing else penetrated our space and like most college students on a Saturday night our minds weren’t on the dangers lurking in the shadows. We didn’t know anything was wrong until Kai went to the kitchen for drinks and her scream alerted Kiri and me to our unwelcome visitors.

I’d never felt so stupid and slow as I did when the large men in masks appeared in the doorway, one with a particularly vicious face mask, long black hair and icy gray eyes held a long knife to Kai’s throat, clutching her tightly to his front with his other arm. Every time I ever swore to myself and my parents I would fight back went out the window when I realized it might actually cost my cousin her life. Instead I reached for Kiri’s hand as we stood frozen to the spot. Her light brown eyes were blown wide in fear and her normally tan face had gone ashen.

Everyone was quiet except for Atlas’s enraged barking.

The shortest man was still at least six feet tall and he wore a black mask with red spiral designs that covered his lower face. Withdrawing a gun from a shoulder holster he indicated the elderly german shepherd. “Shut it the fuck up.”

Instinctively Kieran and I both moved to stand between him and Atlas, her fingers digging into my hand tighter than ever before while her other came up in a placating gesture as I spoke. “Please don’t hurt him, he’s old and scared.” She turned to me with frightened eyes and indicated I should comfort him with a jerk of her chin. Dropping I tried to soothe him and at least got him to quiet down to a whimper.

The next thing I became aware of nearly made me lose control of my bladder. A harsh, cold metal gun barrel was pressed to the back of my head as Kiri’s hand was wrenched from mine.

“You girls gonna behave?”

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat and nodded, hating that every inch of me was paralyzed. What happened to being an officer’s daughter who could stand her ground? All I could think about was that knife pressed to Kai, that gun leveled at the back of my head or at Atlas. If I didn’t behave they could be hurt or I could be killed. I risked glancing up at Kieran who was so still and quiet, being held by the largest of the three. His purple and black mask was monstrous like the tattoos on his exposed arms.

“Stand up slowly. Where’re your parents?” Out of habit when someone stared at me intensely I let my hair fall forward over my face even as I did what he said. His dark brown eyes looked black in the dim light of the living and the comedy kept playing in the background offering a ridiculous soundtrack to such a grave moment. Everything felt surreal in the flashing lights.

“N-not home.” My voice shook even as I tried to sound calm. “Our dad, he’s a cop, he’ll be back soon.” As if supplying that information would make him think twice.

The tall one chuckled, responding in a deep voice that fit his intimidating stature. “We know mija. He’s why we’re here.”

Kai’s whimper brought my attention back to her and the man holding her. He was far too interested in running his knife down her chest. “Hey! Stop it!”

Kai was two years younger than us and as such we’d always been protective of her. I realized what I’d done when those cold gray eyes flashed to me.

The man with black eyes didn’t hesitate, stepping in uncomfortably close to put the barrel under my chin. “Behave.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Survival mode engaged apparently. I realized we were truly fucked when he tugged his mask down to reveal an equally black beard but handsome face. “Leave a note D. We’re taking them and their old man can turn himself in when *we’re* ready.”

The last thing I remembered for a while was Kai crying out and a sharp prick in my neck before everything went black.

———

**Joshua “Jey” POV **

Catching the purple haired girl as she fell I moved to set her on the couch with the other two so they could be tied up. We’d come looking for Detective Levy and we were leaving with his twin daughters and their cousin. Not the worst all things considered but still not my plan and I didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

“You said he’d be here tonight D.”

Damian tugged his mask off with a shrug, accepting the roll of duct tape Roman had retrieved from his bag. He passed me one as well and we went to work taping the girls wrists, ankles and mouths.

“I’ll talk to J.D.” Unlike our family Damian ran a crew of people he’d collected with no ties aside from shared interests. It made them difficult to trust and easy to be angry with as far as I was concerned. I owed Damian my life, not them.

“Do that. Let’s get the fuck outta here.

Roman, you can mess with her later.” He was preoccupied with the pretty little woman he’d pounced on in the kitchen, running his hands up her thighs over her pajama pants. Instead of answering he just rolled those alarming eyes of his and threw her over his shoulder. I took a second to really assess the young woman in front of me. Her name was Nokomis, one of the detectives two daughters. College student majoring in biology and member of the chess club. Of course. What I hadn’t known about was her vitiligo and I found myself more interested than I should have been in the beautiful patterns on her skin. A particular blaze over her right eye was especially striking.

Shaking the thoughts loose I followed his example and so did Damian with his new charge. Our SUV was parked in the alley behind the house and it had been easy enough to blow out the lone street light a few days prior. We put our two in the third row while Roman climbed in the center with his prize. I felt a twinge of pity for her. Capturing his interest so intently was not an enviable thing for anyone.

I waited until Damian was pulling the car onto the street to speak. “Obviously this changes things.”

“No mierda Jey.” Damian’s irritation was obvious. He knew I hated it when jobs went wrong and I knew it irritated him as well. Not to mention bad intelligence was always followed by a period of mistrust and I knew J.D. was already on thin ice as it was. “You were serious about holding them?”

I looked back at the middle row to find my cousin petting the woman in his lap even as she seemed to struggle against him. It would have been funny if I didn’t know him. “Yeah. Can have some fun but don’t kill ‘em.” I looked pointedly at Roman.

“I don’t kill women Jey. Just…like to play rough.”

“Yeah with professionals, not college kids.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? She saw your face cabrón.” Damian cut in. He had a good point but I wasn’t worried. If I hadn’t thought through this possibility I may have been more stressed about the decision.

“Nah, when they see what we do to their old man they’ll be too scared to say shit and we’ve paid off or killed anyone else who could do shit about it anyway.”

He flexed his broad shoulders and stole a glance in the rear view as the other girls were coming to and shifting around in the far back seat. I wasn’t blind or dumb and while he wasn’t as obvious as Roman I could see he was interested in the little one he’d held onto.

“Could let off some steam.”

I smirked. It wouldn’t be hard to seduce them, a few drinks and some promises and they’d be pliant like most other females I dealt with on the regular. I’d be lying if said I wasn’t intrigued by the girl who stared at me in the rear view, her light brown eyes looking golden in passing streetlights. I could see the defiance in them.

Good. Maybe having to wait a few more days to end the cop who got too close and couldn’t be bought wouldn’t be so bad. Not with some pretty company.

[esther-dot]

The problem with Daenerys is that she sees issues from a purely black-and-white perspective. She stops Mirri from being raped and acts as if that’s the complete solution to her problem. Daenerys acts as her savior and insinuates that the rape victim she “saved” much be grateful. However, upon having her people murdered and ravaged, Mirri tries to get back at Drogo. But she doesn’t even really contribute to his death, as we know that Drogo died of his own infection that he refused to treat (he also refused to follow Mirri‘s advice on how to treat it). Sure, she apparently kills Daenerys’s infant, but I doubt that’s even true. Mirri explicitly announces that no one must enter the tent while she’s performing her magic. Yet Jorah and Daenerys enter anyway.

And even if this isn’t true, Daenerys herself believes that Jorah killed her son since he didn’t listen to Mirri and took her into the tent, yet it is Mirri she burns alive.

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. “The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah,” she told him. The knight made no reply. (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

You know, you're right that there's a distinct pattern of misapplying or refusing to accept guilt when it suits her. While her feelings may be alleviated by "saving" people,

"She will do no harm." Dany felt she could trust this old, plain-faced woman with her flat nose; she had saved her from the hard hands of her rapers, after all. (AGOT, Daenerys VII)

Perhaps Dany needs to reconsider what put them in that position in the first place, and whether it might actually have been Drogo and her choices, her war, that ruined their life,

"Saved me?" The Lhazareen woman spat. "Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved." "Your life." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

And I think the reader should be alarmed that while Dany thinks she's saved a life here, she promptly turns around and takes it:

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. "I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

I suppose this is similar to her freeing people but the situation being so bad they’re desperate enough to want to sell themselves back into slavery and instead of that being a wake up call about the results of her choices, telling Dany she hasn’t done what she thinks she’s done, Dany decides to take a cut, to profit off of their suffering.

[agirlandherquill]

the story goblin

inspiration strikes in the strangest of ways often enough, and an idea came to me only a couple days ago, and i've been slowly feeding this goblin of my own creation, letting it form, letting it grow, and it's a different feeling altogether when starting a new piece, an idea, a story - and that feeling's got me hooked, it got me writing, something other than Ruin's Reprisal for a change, which was nice even if a little odd - and i decided why not share a little something with writeblr in honour of this new story gradually coming to life.

so, here it is, the beginning of the story without a name: (because names take their time, and i'm not there thinking of one yet, the story's consuming me as it is, but it'll come, i have faith in that)

An army marched toward the doors. An army not of her own command. She did not ask them to come. She did not want them here. And still, they marched. Their footsteps were thunder, shaking through the steel doors and into the council chamber, each step sent minuscule shudders echoing from her toes to her spine, making her sit stiffly in her seat to keep herself carefully composed. Eyes darted throughout the Court, those gathered on their feet by the sides of the doors shuffled uneasily, those seated - the more privileged few of those in attendance, herself included, sat in waiting for what was to come. 

War?

An uprising?

It could not be. Such things did not happen in Eiress. In its Court. 

Whatever the army was, it was unexpected.

It reached the doors. They swung open. The useless light of the chandelier cast a weak glow over the storm of armoured men, plates of metal clunked in time to their steps as they entered the chamber, moving as one, as a wall, as though they were surrounding something - she looked past the helmeted heads and caught a flash of red hair, they were. Someone was in the middle of them. 

A leader would be at the front of the charge, whoever this was was something else entirely. The guards seemed on edge, their swords were drawn, clutched almost too tightly by their sides. 

The stranger in their midst frightened them, somehow, someway, and it delighted her curiosity. She relaxed her spine, letting her fingers drift along her lap, itching to get up and push the men aside for a glimpse at whoever it was. 

The army of guards were now in the middle of the chamber, the front of their facade a mere step from the table. They adjusted themselves in a circle accordingly, not once breaking rank, they were close, almost impossibly close to one another, hemming in the red haired man she could still not yet see clearly. It was infuriating. Glimpses were all she was afforded. Of his greying shirt, the sleeveless leather jerkin hanging unfastened from his shoulders, his wrists were disguised by shackles clasped so tightly that the smallest bits of skin she could spy in her glimpses were raw. 

For an army, as it had sounded, it was a disappointing number, and an intriguing one. Twenty men clad in armour stood before her. Twenty men - for a single man? Who could possibly demand this much effort save the Lord himself? 

It was as the guards finally parted that she understood why such a precaution had been taken, along with the shackles.

There was danger in him. The closer she looked the more it made itself known: in the set of his jaw, the twist of his lips - as though he were bored, and neither the guards nor the shackles seemed to bother him - all the way to his eyes, such a dark grey they stood out amidst his tanned skin. His dangerous gaze found hers and he did not blink, not once. Such a feat should not have been possible. Such a threatening presence in one person should not exist. And yet it did. 

“Who is this?” She kept her voice low, bending her head to disguise the movement of her lips behind her hair; the stranger’s stare was all too powerful, all too observant for her liking. The man to her left took a sip from his wine, reclining in his high-backed, spiked chair. His blue eyes flashed to her, surprised.

“Nickolinas Feront. Surely the reputation precedes him to you of all people?”

She sank slowly back into her seat, the rough wooden surface grazing her bare shoulders as she settled herself, regarding the newcomer carefully. He had a reputation. Everyone in the room did. And yet, his was heavier than most.

Nickolinas. A killer, they call him. Some say beast. Devil. Trickster. Too many things. Too many dangerous things. Too dangerous for him to be here, three steps from this table. 

“And is there a reason a criminal stands in this Court?” She pinned him with her stare, watching her words sink into his mind. His brows drew together, his lips twitched, but he said nothing. If he was insulted she was glad of it. She did not want him or the pitiful army here, interrupting her evening. 

“Darling must you doubt me?”

Darling. That’s the name he’s chosen to call me tonight. I should think myself lucky I suppose, there are plenty others he could have chosen. He knows them all, of course. He knows everything, just as I know everything of him. 

The Lord of Eiress sat to her left as he always did. The Lord, or Lucias Grey as she called him in private, away from the Court, was a man of disillusion - everything about him had a hidden meaning, a secretive purpose - he was a wicked, delightful mystery that she had grown to decipher easily.

Lucias Grey was charming, more so than most. His smile was kind, but the threats often hidden behind it soured the stomach, just as he liked it to. His gaze was withering to most, to her it was softened - out of trust, out of respect, something the two of them shared. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, held in place by his chosen circlet for the night - a ring of thorns set high on his brow. It was meant to inspire fear, it was also capable of committing its fair share of damage, she had seen him wield it on occasion, when her own blade was not acting for him. His clothes were equally as devastatingly beautiful, they were dark, wicked, his shirt was undone, leaving his chest bare, his arms were covered with a silver fur of a beast she had helped him slay only the day before.  

The Lord’s hand settled on the arm of his chair closest to hers, a hairsbreadth from touching her arm. His fingertip twitched, touching her skin for only a moment - the brief touch was a gentle message meant for only her to heed. I do not have to fear a thing - not that I do, I just don’t like having this man here. This was meant to be a strategy meeting, then a banquet, now it’s been interrupted by this and I’m yet to see any food. 

That would come, she knew that, she did not have her doubts.

He could never be doubted, not by her. 

“No, Lord.” She did not move her gaze from the stranger for an instant. Whatever the Lord’s reasons, where this one’s concerned, they cannot be good ones. 

The Lord smiled. “I thought not. Now, what do you know of him? I’d like you to inform the Court, and remind me, it’s a joy to see the depths of your knowledge in work.” 

He means a joy to make the Court resemble idiots. Lucias always takes a strange form of pleasure from ridiculing some of his people - I never know why.

As she rose from her seat, to gather the focus of the Court’s eyes, she caught a flash of curiosity in the stranger’s face. I see why Lucias is making me do this. He wants to unnerve the man. He may have a reputation but here in Eiress, we know things. Within this Court, I know things. 

“Here stands a man wanted for fifteen different crimes. Quite the record. He’s guilty of trickery, theft, and slaughter, to recall a few.”

Not the one slaughter either. 

“His arrest was made in secret.” She announced to the Court. Though she did not know why, or when. It was a secret to herself, one that the Lord had kept from her. The man who did not believe in secrets. She bit the inside of her cheek, pushing her questions down and forced her focus solely upon the criminal who seemed more content watching her than being watched.

“A secret to ensure the safety of you all. And he is here…” She paused, trying to think of a reason to ensure they remained composed, to ensure they remained sensible. “To prove that no-one is above the law of the Court. The Lord protects us all, as he always has.” 

There was a low chuckle of amusement at her back. The fake flattery amuses him, it always does, but the Court eats it up, and so I twist my words. The only ones above the law in Midwinter are him and I.

“After that brilliant little speech I think it would be rude not to let our guest introduce himself, wouldn’t it?” Several heads of the Court nodded, most were still. She was in the latter. How could a man like that introduce himself?

“Very well.” The Lord tapped a finger on the table. “Declare your name to the Court, if you will.” The thinly veiled order made her stiffen. Lucias is playing a game of some sort - to what end? 

“Master Nickolinas Eliath Feront.” His voice was different to what she had expected. He sounded more eloquent than the oldest families in Court, nothing at all like the criminals she had seen in this realm. 

“Tell me, Master Feront, why do you stare at her?” 

The question made her thoughts cease to form altogether. A dangerous question from one dangerous man to another. There was no jealousy there, there would never be, whatever darkened the Lord’s tone was something that made her nerves gather and bite down against her rawest of nerves. 

“She stares back at me.” His answer was so simple it made her grind her teeth. So simple it is no answer at all. 

“I’d like you to give her a different reason.” Lucias, what are you doing? She would not turn her head to see his face, he would know her thoughts loud and clear without a single word being uttered. 

“You sought out my stare, through this crowd of silver.” His answer seemed to satisfy the Lord, even if it angered her further. 

“Do you have any requests?” The Lord’s eyes were on her back. She braced her palms against the table, lowering herself back to her seat. She could say whatever she wished, the Lord would grant her that. Perhaps it was wicked, perhaps she was wicked, but there was only one thing she wanted to see from a man with a reputation like his.

“Make him kneel.”

The stranger soundlessly moved to his knees, seemingly ignorant of the men trying to push him down. If he kneeled it would be of his own accord. The sentiment was disturbingly familiar to one of her own. She swallowed her thoughts and gripped the edge of the table, wrinkling the tablecloth as she crushed it under her fingertips.

“He kneels Darling, what will you have him do next?”

Is this a show? Is he parading his greatest prisoner before the Court? No, surely not. He would have told me. He would have had me plan for it. Even if I did not know he was here.

She moved her eyes from the stranger briefly, flashing the Lord a questioning look. He answered it with a smile and leant forward, resting his elbows on the table as he moved to look at the man he had summoned for reasons she had yet to discern.

“I think he will do for you Darling.”

She swallowed her tongue. It took every shred of focus she had not to cough. She schooled her face into a tight-lipped smile. “How so?”

“I have a task for you. He,” He nodded at the still-staring man, “Will aid you. In exchange for the only thing I’ve heard he values. His life.”

Aid me? Aid me in what? I have never needed aid. I will never need it. If there is a task to be done, I do it alone. As I always have. 

Her displeasure must have been more evident that she wanted it to be because the Lord laughed. “You’ll like this one. I know you will. Only bear with me a moment while I see the people off.” He raised a hand, waving once, twice, and the Court muttered amongst themselves, moving around the circle of guards warily to slip out the doors. He picked up his cup and took another sip, humming in enjoyment at the finest wine the Court had to offer. She knew because she had chosen it - a previous task, one of the tamer ones by the Lord’s standards. He lowered the cup and she took it, helping herself to a hearty gulp to brace herself for what he had to say. This task will be anything but tame if Nickolinas Feront is here. The sight of him, in this Court, almost sickens me to my stomach. He should not be here polluting the air with his presence. 

The Lord sighed, she watched his eyes sweep over the guards, the intensity of his stare made her wince, it foretold of something she knew she would not like. 

“Remove the shackles, then leave us.”

The guards moved without question, a key was slotted into the shackles and twisted sharply, the heavy instruments of restraint were taken away and the army retreated once more. She did not like them there in the first place, seeing them go made her feel worse. In the large council chamber, fit for housing over a hundred, there were only three. Two seated. One still kneeling.

“Lucias…” She murmured into the silence, “Do not toy with me. What is it?”

“You’re to find Thial and bring him to me.”

Her heart ceased to beat. I heard wrong. I must have done. He has been waging war with that man for years - why attempt to bring him in now? No-one knows what he looks like. Thial is a name he leaves behind, who’s to know if it’s even real? The man is a ghost - how can I find a ghost? And how can this criminal help me?

“You will need him Darling, even if the thought displeases you. This task is not one for the faint of heart, which is why I entrust it to you, and I gift you his servitude.” 

Servitude. The word twisted her gut. She looked to the criminal, he was close to the table, she extended her leg from beneath it, touching the man’s jaw with the tip of her shoe, forcing his head up. He grunted quietly, still staring at her. Does he know then? Did Lucias strike some sort of deal without seeking my counsel? The matter unsettled her. She frowned slightly, looking away. “I do not believe in masters or servants, you know that.”

“Think of him as a partner then, whatever you wish.”

I wish to have nothing to do with him. She let her foot drop and his head lolled back down. His incessant staring was beginning to bother her. I’m not the one who demanded this, why does he look to me and not Lucias? 

She would not shrink from his gaze. She would endure it if it meant ridding herself of him sooner. I will talk Lucias round, he will see this is ridiculous - offering a man his life - a man like him, in exchange for helping me? What good will that do? He will only get in my way. Something flashed in his gaze and she flinched. Will he stop staring? I’ve half a mind to take the cup of wine and fling what’s left in his face. 

“Darling, whatever you’re planning in that head of yours, would you care to share it with us?”

Damn you Lucias. She abandoned her thoughts to steal another sip from his cup. “I would rather not.” 

“Fine. Will you do it then?”

“I will.”

The words took something from her as they left her throat. She felt hollow. This task would take her to depths she was scared to know, force her to commit unspeakable things - even in the name of duty. She was Lucias’ right hand after all, this was expected of her, she had done plenty of things to keep his hands clean. She saved his soul - in spite of his wicked intent -there was some honour in that, honour that she cherished. And now it was threatened. The criminal being near her threatened it. The task threatened it. Her honour was all she had and to have it at risk was… Unthinkable. 

“Good, and when he’s here, be a dear and drag him won’t you? I want to meet him on his knees.”

“…Right.” If he saw her struggles he did not make them known, whether that relieved her or made matters worse she could not say. She did not have the chance to.

“I’m so relieved I can entrust this to you. You know how much it means to me.” He flashed her a smile. I do. And that makes this harder than it needs to be. He rose from his seat and clapped his hands, the doors opened again, permitting entry to the flood of gossiping members of the Court, and staff finally arriving with platters of food. It was a pity her stomach felt too hollow for any pangs of hunger. She had to leave the table before the smell ruined her. She forced her chair back and rose to her feet, pinching her skirts between her fingers to keep herself in check. The room was full, too full now, she had to twist and turn and avoid tripping over long hems in her way to get to the doors. A server passed in front of her with a platter of steaming chicken and she wanted to retch, her stomach was too unsettled for this. 

Lucias wants me to find the most dangerous man in the realm, surpassing even his capabilities, and mine. And I’m expected to bring him here, on his knees? 

The impossibility was insufferable, the pressure surmounting, she had very little idea where to start - and to even consider partnering with a criminal? No. She would not face it. Not tonight. She needed time, she needed rest, she needed to sort her mind before she sorted the mess she had found herself in. 

The doors were in sight. The man she had no intention of speaking to had disappeared among the polished faces, whether he was looking for her she did not know and she did not care. She squeezed past a gossiping couple, her breathing hitching as she caught a glimpse of damnable red hair, and tried to move faster through the crowds. Gods get me away, clear me a path, keep him from me. 

The Gods were not with her that night. He was speaking with a man to the left of her path. She set her shoulders and quickened her pace, fixing her eyes on the door, not on him. He is too busy talking to notice me, I will do nothing to attract his attention. It will work. It will.

She moved past, sighing in relief at her success, only for him to turn at the last moment and see her. His hand shot out, catching her elbow in passing, and he forced her to spin round and face him - the one act she had desperately been trying to avoid since leaving the table.

“Is your name really Darling?”

“I have many names.” She hissed, attempting to free her arm without causing a scene, he made it difficult, squeezing her elbow harder to keep her there. “As do you from what I hear.” 

He tilted his head, a hint of amusement passing over his face. “You may call me Nick.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I may? Who does he think he is? Does he forget he was in shackles only minutes ago? 

“You’ll have to call me something, from what I gather we’re working together from this night on.” There was a smile hidden on his face, she could see his lips twitching trying to contain it. The thought of him smiling riled her up almost as much as the horrific situation she had ended up in.

“Work with a criminal - to what? Find the Lord’s greatest enemy? I’m capable of doing that on my own.” She walked away, pulling him along with her with his fingers still wrapped around her elbow until they were in a more private section of the room, less crowded, by a window. 

Nick tilted his head, bringing his face rudely close to hers. “Then why not tell him that? Are we too scared of earning his wrath?”

“It is easier not to argue. And I accepted out of respect for him. Nothing more.”

“Accepted? You were backed into a corner from what I saw.”

“What you saw when you were kneeling at my feet?” She countered, finally freeing her arm, and taking a step away. Her back hit the curtains hanging beside the window. Her fingers sought them out, gripping them harshly to vent her fury.

“Even then.” 

Of all the people for the gods to stick me with, why would they choose Nick Feront? 

The question bothered her greatly. She needed time to prepare, time to think, time to adjust and ensure she did not lose her temper. A lack of control would cost her far more than failing her task, and already she was struggling.

Darling had never wanted to punch a man senseless before within minutes of meeting him - until Nick. And if she did that, he would be of no use to her. Despite his misgivings, despite his first impressions - the Lord was right about Nick for one thing, she would need him to accomplish her task, and she finally understood why.

Using a criminal to catch Thial, or as the rest of the realm knows him, the King of Crime - how sweet. 

Suffering a man who seeks to bother me at every inconvenience - how very bitter. 

Lovely. This night cannot get any worse.

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list!

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies

[firstdivisiongirl]

It Only Takes a Minute

WARNING: Angst with a happy ending

It only takes a minute to lose everything. As Bepo swam on shore with his captain, barely alive, he started to panic. Law was the one person in his life he would give up anything for. He ran to the nearest town caring his captain on his back. It was a quiet little town, with old stone buildings that were adorned with colorful flowers. If this was any other time, Bepo would have spent time exploring, going into the little shops, but now was not the time. “Please help! I need a doctor!” He yelled. Most of the people looked but ignored the polar bear mink. That was until she appeared. “What’s going on here?” She ran up to Bepo to see what was wrong.

“Please, it’s the captain. He’s hurt, he might die. Please help.”

She looked at the man on his back. She went pale when she saw his face. He looked the same as he did 4 years ago, just a little rougher. “Follow me, we’ll take him to my uncle. He’ll be fine,” she reassured Bepo, “follow me.”

The two ran down the cobblestone street, being careful not to hit any of the holes to not hurt Law. They finally reached the last gray stone building on the road, her home. Bepo saw smoke coming out of the deteriorating chimney and light shiny through the windows, indicating someone was home.

“UNCLE,” she yelled, “we need help!” Her uncle ran in, turning just as pale as his niece did earlier. “He’s dying. You need to save him!”

“Bring him in here. I saved him once. I’m sure as hell going to do it again,” her uncle said.

*** Bepo and the girl sat in the living room for 2 hours. It was a comfortable room, with plush olive green sofa and 2 matching chairs. Both were sitting in the chairs in silence. Bepo was trying to distract himself by looking around the room, while she sat there looking at her hands on the navy fabric of her dress. Sometimes Bepo would look at her, wondering what her mind was going through.

Their silence was interrupted by the opening of the bedroom door to their left, both of them turned around. Her uncle walked in, covered in blood, “Don’t worry. He’s fine. He’s resting now. If you want to see him, you can.” Bepo cried and hugged the small old man, “thank you, thank you!”

She stayed in her place and watched. It’s nice to know he has someone as loyal as him, she thought. Bepo walked into the room to see his captain.

*** She sat in the bedroom, listening to the heart monitors as they beeped. She had told Bepo to go out and explore because he needed to relax from all of the stress he has been through. So she sat there, looking at the same man from 4 years ago. The man her uncle had saved. The man who saved her from a life of pain and misery. The man she fell in love with.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Law moving. She got up and approached him. His steel grey eyes met her chestnut ones as he sat up. “It’s nice to you again, Trafalgar.”

He was shocked to see her. He thought he must have died. It’s been 4 years. He would have thought she’d move on, finally gave in and gotten married, maybe had a few kids, but not back in the same position they were in last time they met.

“Don’t worry. You’re fine. I sent Bepo to town to destress. A few of the men from the town are going to look for your crew. It will be okay,” she reassured him placing a hand on his shoulder. Law relaxed a little, she had that effect on him.

He kept looking at her. Everything about her was the same. The same short dark hair. The same chocolate brown eyes. The same bright smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. The same everything that he fell in love with 4 years ago, but was too afraid to admit it. He grabbed her and brought her closer to him, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t due to his injuries. She hugged him back.

“I’ve never seen this much emotion out of you,” she laughed, “at least this time we aren’t arguing.”

“Yeah,” he said as she buried her face into his chest.

She started crying, not caring about how she was getting his bandages wet. He looked down at her. He smiled a rare smile. He always felt like he always lost everyone he cared about, but seeing her here, made him feel a little hope in the tragedy he called his life. “He’d be proud of you, you know. My dad,” she said looking up at the stoic captain.

Her dad. Corazon. The man who gave him a chance, who cared about him, who gave him her. He knew he was, but he knew there was one thing, only one thing that Corazon would be upset with him for. He inched closer to her. His lips met her soft ones. It’s only lasted a few seconds, but it still lingered on both of their lips.

He held her closer than he already was. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too Law.”

They stayed like this, in each other’s arms. It may only takes a minute to lose everything. But it only takes a second to find everything you needed.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - 32 - Everything Collides

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

Throwing her head back with a scream, Leona's fingers dug into his scalp, her thighs squeezing around his head only for him to yank them apart again. The moan that started to leave her lips disappeared when his tongue delved deeper down her sweet, warm canal, scooping her cum into his mouth.

“Oh my god, shiiiit,” she moaned.

Glancing up at his writhing lover from between her thick luscious thighs, Montez's smirk was proud and haughty. "Mmm, I know you liked that, baby, let me do it again." He spread her legs wider, giving her all of his thick tongue and lips. He French-kissed her pussy, delivering licks and sucks simultaneously. She could only lay back and moan and groan, her fingers twirling her hardened nipples while he devoured her, his tongue and mouth slipping and sliding skillfully against her softened pussy lips. Thankfully the soundproof room never let anyone hear her noises whenever Montez put it on her, which was now pretty much every week for the past twelve months.

Quite frankly, younger men were the shit. Just sturdy and virile and-

"Ah, fuckkkk, Montez," her eyes rolled back as he pushed his two fingers back inside her, pumping them slowly while he lapped her juices up with a moan of his own.

"You gon' come again, baby?" he asked her, his voice gruff and deep, "Good girl, come one more time before I give you this big dick."

“Awww, yeah baby, shit, keep that tongue in me, make me come…”

Suddenly, Leona felt the hairs on the back of her slender neck rise, and it wasn't from the throes of an orgasm. She froze, her head cocked to the side as her ears strained to grasp the new sounds that had alerted her. Bolting upright, she kicked Montez off of her and grabbed her clothes, throwing them on as fast as possible. "Out," she told him.

Montez blinked, confused. "W-What?" he spluttered.

“You need to leave, Montez. Now.”

"The fuck? Come on, babe, we just gettin' started," he whined, pouting when she kept her back turned to him while she searched frantically for an unknown item. "Baby you got this dick so hard, who's gonna take care of it-"

He never really saw her move; only felt the sharp blade of the knife digging underneath his chin, right on his Adam's apple. Montez's bewilderment quickly drained away, leaving behind shock and utter fear. Leona's expression was devoid of emotion...but her dark irises sent shivers down the poor man's spine. He had never seen her look like that before, and she had definitely never turned a butcher's knife on him.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” she hissed.

This time, there was no protest from him. Quietly and quickly, he grabbed his clothes, got dressed, and hurried out through the back door. Leona waited to hear the door shut before allowing herself to breathe a sigh of relief. She had just saved his life. Montez was a good man and didn't deserve to get caught up in all that was about to go down.

Her body tensed again as she refocused, her senses heightened with anticipation. As she left the basement and slowly made her way out into the main part of the house, she was aware at that very moment, she was not alone. She was aware that she was in danger. Even more importantly, she knew who was here. But she didn't shy away from any of it, not this time.

This time, she welcomed it.

Entering the kitchen, she smiled at the figure standing in the middle of it, waiting for her. "I was wondering when you'd come," she said, her tone jovial.

Hunter kept his hands in the pockets of his grey coat, his gaze fixated on her. "I've gotta hand it to you, Leona," he smiled. "You managed to stay under my radar for as long as you did. Very commendable. But you knew you wouldn't be able to hide for long, right? We always find you, no matter where you hide. You know that."

"I know." Leona looked into the eyes of the man that had murdered her three years ago. Murdered the love of her life. Hunter's bearded face remained neutral, but she could see the triumph in his eyes. He could sense how proud he was that he had found her. All these years later, she could still read him like a book. "But who on earth told you I was hiding, boo boo?" she asked. The granite-surface kitchen counter was the only thing separating the two of them. "I've been waiting a long time for this moment, as a matter of fact," she elaborated, "I knew once you found out I was alive you'd come after me yourself. And I'm glad you did. Now I'll get to look you in the eye while I rip out your throat."

"And that would be sweet revenge, right?" asked Hunter, pretending to think. "Revenge for taking your man from you? What was his name again? Dwayne?"

Leona also knew he would throw Dwayne back in her face. She had believed that three years was sufficient time to overcome hearing his name without breaking down, but judging from the way her grip reflexively tightened on the butcher's knife, she was wrong.

Hunter hadn't missed her change in demeanor either, and his evil smirk grew just a little broader. "Still pining for that worthless meathead eh, Leona?" When his laughter subsided, he leveled her with a glare. "You could have had me, you know. I would have given you everything you ever wanted. But in retrospect, I'm glad we were never together. You're weak and pathetic, just like your precious Dwayne. I don't do weak. But who knows, I could do you a favor; maybe you'll be joining him very, very soon. Sooner than you think." He gave her a knowing look.

"Now that's the difference between you and me, Hunter," said Leona, pushing her hair back. "Unlike you, I don't care what happens to me. And make no mistake about it; if I do go, I'm taking your sorry ass down with me."

Hunter's lip curled into a smirk. "We'll see about that."

With neck-break speed, he snatched the gun from his holster and fired. Leona however, was just as quick. With the knife still in her grasp, she slashed the air in front of her, with the expertise of a wizard with their trusted wand, swatting the bullet away as though it were a pesky fly. It ricocheted off the stainless steel blade and clattered somewhere harmlessly.

Hunter chuckled as he watched her lower the knife, her gaze as hardened as his own. "Still got it, I see," he commented, casually taking off his coat.

"Still predictable, I see," Leona countered calmly. He had just thrown down the gauntlet. She was more than happy to accept it. "And as you're going to see in a couple of seconds, I never lost it."

"Oh sweetheart, killing you is going to be fun," said Hunter, rolling up his sleeves as he advanced towards her.

Leona rounded the kitchen counter. "Not if I kill you first."

And, with teeth bared and weapons brandished, they lunged at each other.

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

Lily turned to Jasmine, who was yet to take her eyes off of Roman. "You're here to collect early?"

A curt nod of her head answered the question. "I am. If that's alright with you, of course," she added, finally turning to face her former boss.

Lily smiled. "Of course." She picked up the duffel bag she had arrived with and handed it to Jasmine. "Half a million in cash, and the other one point five in a traceless check-in account. Here's the debit card that goes with it."

Roman watched as Jasmine opened the duffel bag, inspecting the cash inside. Then, she checked the app on her burner phone as Lily had instructed her. Sure enough, there was one and a half million dollars in the account.

"How much then, baby girl? Huh?" Roman demanded, "How much are you getting for serving me up?"

"You’re a Class One contract," Lily answered on her behalf. "Or in layman's speak; a million dollars. But as part of the deal we struck with her, we threw in an extra million for your successful delivery."

Jasmine, seemingly satisfied with the contents of the duffel bag, closed it back up, and then slid the bag along the ground and out of sight. Straightening back to her full height, she stared at Roman again. "Looks like it's all there," she said.

Roman lifted his left shoulder in a shrug. "Well, two million ain't half bad, is it?" he addressed Jasmine, who watched him for a beat before slowly shaking her head. "Not bad at all," she replied with a half-smile.

Staring down at his hands briefly, Roman cleared his throat and looked back up, locking eyes with his girlfriend. "In light of the seriousness of the situation, and fully aware that I may not have the chance to do so later...I want you to know, Jasmine, that everything I ever felt for you was real. I did love you. I still do. And I don't regret choosing you and turning my back on The Authority."

Jasmine's gaze was just as intense. "I don't regret turning my back on F.L.O.R.A," she said. "I'm sorry I blew up your apartment. I'm sorry for all the times I tried to kill you."

Lily now looked confused. Her smile faltered as she looked back and forth between the two. What the hell was going on?

Roman kept speaking, as though there was no one else around. And there wasn't, not in his mind. Right now, he saw no one but Jasmine. "Ditto. You're the only woman I've ever been in love with. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do,  baby girl, even before all the bullshit got in the way."

"Likewise," Jasmine said, looking up. "The perimeter's crawling with hostiles on all four floors, six on each of the three floors above us."

"Guessed as much," said Roman, glancing around at all the wonderful ammunition that Lily and her minions were yet to realize were now at his and Jasmine's disposal. "We clean out the ground floor then work our way up, just as discussed." He met her eyes once again, and with a smirk on his face, said, "So...you ready?"

Crossing her arms, Jasmine moved away from Lily to stand beside him. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Lily's smile had completely vanished now. She glared incredulously at the couple facing her, standing side by side, heads tilted up in defiance. "If this is some kind of plan, it can't possibly work," she said angrily.

"Nope, not a plan," Roman said, "Although we did try to come up with a plan, but we couldn't agree on anything. Ain't that right, babe?" He spoke in a conversational manner, as though discussing dinner party arrangements.

"Mm-hmm. We had a few ideas but none of them really worked out," Jasmine continued. Pulling out a Zippo lighter and a cigarette, she flicked the steel lighter open and held the flame up to the white stick in her mouth. She didn't smoke, but there was a good reason for this. All she had to do was wait for Roman's cue.

Lily's eyes narrowed. There was something different about their bickering now, as if they were in on the same joke. She saw that Roman and Jasmine's eyes kept moving, casing the area. Each could feel their former colleagues tensing in their positions, itching to strike.

"We even considered driving up to Niagara Falls and faking our deaths there," Jasmine went on, taking a nonchalant drag of her cigarette. She spotted Violet among the lampshades in a shop a few feet to her right, whispering into her mic. Petunia was behind the shelves of a kiosk containing scarves. "You see them?" she asked.

"Uh huh, I see 'em," the Samoan answered, before returning his attention to Lily. "But Jasmine reckoned you'd probably kill us once we got there. Besides, I wouldn't want to die there, that water is like the cemetery for traitors to the Authority, of which I am obviously one now-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Lily suddenly screamed. Jasmine and Roman looked at her in mild disbelief. The F.L.O.R.A. leader stopped and gathered herself, visibly embarrassed by her sudden loss of composure. When she spoke again, her tone was cold, mocking. "Do you have any idea how laughably outnumbered you are here?"

"We do," Roman nodded, not fazed at all.

"So you know for a fact that you're not walking out of here alive," The F.L.O.R.A. boss was determined to drive the message home.

"That's possible. In fact, it's probable." Withdrawing a small bottle of what looked like whiskey from his side pocket, Roman looked to his right, "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?"

"More than possible," Jasmine agreed. "In fact, I'd say 'likely'."

"So what on earth made you think this would work?" Lily was losing patience with this crap. "Huh, Jasmine? I thought you were smarter than this but I guess I was wrong, and honestly, I'm glad I'm wrong."

"If you haven't noticed yet, Lily, I don't give a flying fuck what you think," Jasmine's voice was calm but dangerous. "And as for thinking that this would work..." She looked into Roman's eyes and shrugged. "This is us. This is what we do. And we're the best at what we do. By myself, I'm a movement, but when I join forces with my man, and his pedigree and skills, I'm a force."

"And even if we don't make it," Roman added, taking a small sip of the whiskey, "we're going to take out as many people as we possibly can. So much so that by the time we're done, F.L.O.R.A. and The Authority will be crippled beyond recognition. None of y'all will be doing any business in the foreseeable future."

"And just how exactly are you going to do that? With your itty-bitty girl guns?" Lily snarled.

"Actually..." Jasmine took one more glance around at her former colleagues. She liked the assault rifle Lotus was armed with. She would go after her first. "We've got everything we need right here." She looked back at her former boss. "I would have said, don't take this personal, it's just business. But you came after me and the man I love, so you've made it very, very personal."

"Grow up, little girl. You both know the rules," Lily snapped. "Don't fuck the enemy. Don't fall in love. That's all you had to do. But you did. So now you have to die."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Lily, you don't want to do this. I promise you."

Huffing in response, Lily's eyes glinted menacingly. "I'm sorry Mr. Reigns. Rules are rules. We need to make an example out of you, so no one else has any ideas. Now surrender, or my people will take you out where you stand."

Jasmine smirked. "Well, that's just too damn bad. Cuz I don't take orders from you anymore."

Lily was given no time to respond further as Roman hurled the whiskey bottle at her feet. The entire glass container shattered, emptying its contents all over the floor. The smell of the alcohol was powerful, unmistakable. Jasmine then tossed the Zippo lighter onto the spilled whiskey. Flames instantly billowed out and upwards, devouring the whiskey and the glass, and engulfing the F.L.O.R.A. boss in a mere matter of seconds.

——————

Sheesh!

Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the gifs.

Two more chapters to go.

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 2, chapter 1 - Many Meetings

That awakening scene and Gandalf's grumbling are iconic.

"You have talked long in your sleep, Frodo, and it has not been hard for me to read your mind and memory" - more potential mind-reading. Yes, Frodo was talking, but the phrasing implies more than that.

Honestly Frodo is rather unperturbed for someone who keeps getting told "oh, and by the way, I read your mind"

Frodo's disbelief that Gandalf could ever be held captive :))

Frodo having thought all the "Big People" stupid before meeting Aragorn. He doesn't seem to have considered Gandalf as one of them, though.

"Fortune or fate have helped you" - something for the Mysterious Allusions Counter?? Let's leave it at 3.5.

That the Shire could withstand Sauron until all else might be conquered, almost as much as Rivendell, according to Gandalf!

"To what he will come in the end not even Elrond can foretell." - Proof that Elrond has foresight? Or just referring to his knowledge of healing?

"He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can" - beautiful phrasing; what does it mean?

Some of the elves are "as merry as children"! -> me @ Peter Jackson

"We are sitting in a fortress. Outside it is getting dark." "Gandalf has been saying many cheerful things like that."

"On his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength"

Elrond is "ageless, neither old nor young"... "venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters [Elros! 🥲💔], and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength." Hmm, half-elven heritage seems to show.

His hair "dark as the shadows of twilight" - compare: Lúthien ("dark as shadow was her hair"); Arwen being both a carbon copy of her illustrious foremother and like her father in female form.

"Mighty among both Elves and Men"

Arwen also has this "young and not" quality. Both she and her father are said to have the light of stars in their eyes.

Hmmm... Grey rainment with no ornament save a silver girdle + headdress. Not Noldorin fashion, I believe.

Bilbo definitely knows about Arwen and seems to tease Aragorn. Not sure if it counts as an allusion, being semi-overt... counter at 1.5

When I was 13 I decided to learn the Eärendil poem by heart and got halfway through - later I learned the rest of it through music settings.

Hmm... I doubt Bilbo should be taken as an expert on Eärendil's journey, but it does seem the Mariner almost crashed himself on the Helcaraxë (From gnashing of the Narrow Ice) where shadow lies on frozen hills.../He turned in haste, and roving still, etc.). And then there's the mysterious "Night of Naught"; I'm not sure if it was mentioned in the Silm.

O'er leagues unlit and foundered shores/ that drowned before the Days began *:･ﾟ✧*

He came into the timeless halls/ where shining fall the countless years ✧*:･ ...Brings to mind elements of Galadriel's song later on...

The Silmaril as lantern light/ and banner bright with living flame/ to gleam thereon by Elbereth/ herself was set, who thither came (!!)

And over Middle-earth he passed/ and heard at last the weeping sore/ of women and of elven-maids/ in Elder Days, in years of yore... haunting...

But, yes, Bilbo dies have cheek in reciting that in the house of Elrond

Aragorn very overtly talking to Arwen, cleaned-up and all. The scene is specifically drawn attention to; I hesitate to add this to my AragornxArwen allusion counter because it's not even an allusion! Mmm... 1.75

"I'll take a walk, I think, and look at the stars of Elbereth in the garden" -- oh, Bilbo, you're getting very Elvish

[gust-jar-simulator]

Take this thing in media res from a concept I'm working on. Ganondorf woke his husband up and made a comment about how Vaati owes him. Game start.

TW suggestive? Honestly it's a lot of threats happening but. Yeah.

~🌺🏜️🌙🏜️🌺~

"Oh, Ganondorf..." Vaati stretched languidly in the sheets, considering his husband through the bleary daze of jasmine and sandalwood, the intricate loops and bands of gold across dark skin. Grey fingers caught at the scars beneath fine chains, and the other man's brow arched as he went with Vaati's silent demand.

The wind mage rolled onto him like a snake hoarding a basking rock, dagger-slim and dagger-quick, hands that could break the sky wrapped delicately around the king's throat. "You think I'm your consort because you saved me?"

"I think you're my consort for many reasons, mage," his king hummed, voice rumbling low in his stomach, in Vaati's thighs. He made no move, but the brand of his gold eyes was enough, attentive to be a touch in their own right.

Good.

"I am your consort," Vaati murmured with predatory silk, "Because no one else can match you." He leaned in, ran a finger through Ganondorf's endless jewelry like a scalpel down the lines of a dissection. "You might have been born to rule everything you touch, son of sand, but I took everything I have from the jaws of the gods. I'll tear the heart bloody from your chest, husband, if you underestimate me."

The velvet violence in his tone was somewhat contrasted by his careful attention to the ornaments in Ganondorf's hair, untangling them from his braids with the ease of long practice. His king thought about moving, clearly, arms shifting to perhaps place hands on a whip-thin waist.

Vaati's spine locked up, teeth bared in the start of a hiss, and Ganondorf smoothly redirected to drape his wrists against the pillows with a quiet hum.

Vaati's only response was a growl he wouldn't dare call fond, and he draped himself across his husband's chest to drink in the magic clinging to his skin, chasing the chill stain of darkness the way a Hylian maiden might chase her lover's lips.

"Fight," he rasped against obsidian pendants and emerald drops, "Struggle, hate, grow. Become more of yourself, and let me hate you for it, look at me and see something worth killing. Know, my king, that I am the greatest threat to your life at all times, because I made myself into what you were born to be." His fingers twitched, once, on the muscled breadth of his husband's neck, and he felt the shift there when Ganondorf smiled.

"I have nightmares, sometimes," the king thought aloud, "of coming home to a wife that speaks only kind words, and has never held a blade. I don't know how the Hylians do it."

"Their men are also worthless. I have bested many of them with a sword, and I detest swords."

Ganondorf's laughter rumbled through them both, warm and relaxed.

[vodika-vibes]

Thank you for the friendly reminder that Yuu only became PA Yuu bec of their doting nepotistic uncle and that nepotism saved the galaxy here lol

Yuu really said, "They are forcing me to be a productive member of society and I'm going to make it everyone's problem." And then accidentally makes everything better.

Also, this is the first meeting of Yuu and Fox, it's not love at first sight, but this is good too.

"-and this will be your desk, Miss Yuu." Palpatine says in a doting grandfatherly voice that makes you want to run away. "Thank you, Chancellor." You say instead, "I've been looking at your schedule, and I think I can get you an hour long lunch every day, if you let me reschedule some things for you. And also, if we limit the Jedi from bursting into your office every day." He smiles, "I will leave my scheduling in your capable hands." Palpatine motions for you to follow him, and you fall into step behind him. He leads you through the large, open hallways of the senate and then he leads you down into the lower levels of the senate building. "This is where the Guard works." Palpatine says as he opens an office door. You can't help but notice that the men who work down here, clones all of them, avert their gaze from the Chancellor and act, all the world, like an abused tooka coming face to face with their tormentor. But you keep your mouth shut, for now. "This is CC-1010, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard." Palpatine says, "You'll be working with him a lot." CC-1010, like all clones, is strikingly handsome. Though unlike some of the others you've met he looks exhausted. With dark circles under his eyes and greying hair at his temple. So far as you're aware he's only been on Coruscant for six months. You tilt your head to the side, your mind racing, "You know, Chancellor," You say slowly, thoughtfully, "Why don't I take control of the Guard." The Chancellor looks surprised, and the Commander looks momentarily alarmed, though he hides it well, "I'm not sure I understand, Miss Yuu," Palpatine says slowly. You roll the idea around your mind for a moment. Yes. Getting the Guard away from Palpatine is the right thing to do. "Well," You say slowly, "The head chef doesn't chop lettuce, does he?" You offer, "No, he delegates." You smile, and gesture to him, "Head chef," And then you gesture to the Commander, "Lettuce." Palpatine blinks and then he beams, "My dear, you deserve a pay raise. I will get right on that. Yes," He looks at the commander, "Yuu, here, speaks with my authority, 1010." "...yes sir." And then Palpatine is gone and he pins you with a severe stare. "As he said," You say slowly, "My name is Yuu, and I use they/them pronouns, please don't forget that. Might I have your name?" "Marshal Commander Fox, he/him." You smile at him, "Well then, Commander, what do you need to make things better for you and your brothers?"