#personally i find it a satisfying end for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zablife · 2 days ago

Text

@peakyswritings What an incredible finale, Reb! You should be so proud of every word you've written over the past year bc this is a masterpiece. (And it's only the first act! Squealing with glee that we're getting more after this!)

I can't believe we've come to Tommy x Nina's wedding day already! Tho they're forced to marry under less than ideal circumstances, their union feels deeply satisfying. The way Nina finds reassurance by staring into Tommy's blue eyes made me melt 🫠 I love that he makes her feel safe with him. However, I also appreciated how you explored all her emotions surrounding the marriage. Her fear of losing her dreams is wonderfully realistic.

As for her family's reactions, I can understand the bitterness of their disappointment and I'm hoping their opinion changes over time. (Obv that hinges on how Tommy treats her. Don't fuck this up, Tommy!!) Ngl her father's cold silence stung. I'm trying to remind myself that he's prob still in shock tho, not to mention melancholic over sending away his only daughter. In the end he did give his blessing and will face fall out with his brother which is an enormous sacrifice.

Hooray for Pietro being the voice of reason! His strategy proves he'll make a successful and compassionate leader one day. I'm so happy he was the one to tell her about the decision. I love the fact that he acknowledges her ambitions and encourages her to do everything she's dreamed of. He makes me so hopeful for the future generations of the Ferrante family!

I wasn't sure how Salvatore would react, but I had the biggest grin on my face when I realized he would support her. Gifting her the family knife is such a lovely gesture and def not something I would have expected from him. I think Nina is right, if not for the war, he would have been a v diff person and he's attempting to show that side of himself here. (In many ways I feel he's much like Arthur which makes me curious to see how she'll handle her brother-in-law with his fits of temper.)

I'm anxiously awaiting the next part to learn how Nina acclimates to her new home (and family)! Poor girl has no clue about the chaos she's walking into 😆

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 14 - EPILOGUE OF PART ONE

Summary: All hell has broken loose in the Ferrante household. There’s a choice to be made, and too little time to hesitate.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, arranged marriage, mentions of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mention of beatings, a bit of an age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

A/N: nothing for now, but I left a note at the end of the chapter. I got quite sentimental and rambled a bit, so I decided that it would be best to leave it there.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

“According to tradition, they should get married at dawn, before word spreads,” Pietro paced around his father’s office, arms crossed, brain striving to find a solution to the predicament the family had found itself in. “But it’s too late for that.”

He snorted, wiping his face. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him. He hadn’t gone to bed after talking to Nina, he couldn’t imagine trying to sleep while the household threatened to collapse and implode. Moreover, he knew he would find his father awake as well, and he had been waiting for the chance to speak to him alone all evening. The meeting had been nothing but a mess. Everybody was too angry to think or act clearly, and they had accomplished nothing.

“Your uncle Mario has spoken against it,” his father shook his head. “And I can’t blame him. Shelby humiliated Agnese by…” he paused, grimacing. “Engaging with your sister. He wants him dead.”

“Uncle Mario has no head for business. We can’t afford to act out on revenge, not right now. If we listen to him, we’re fucked, you know it too.” Stopping in front of his father’s desk, Pietro rested with his left palm upon the wooden surface, slightly leaning in. “Imagine what would happen. We kill Shelby, we lose our ally against Sabini. And on top of that, we’ll have that mad brother of his seeking revenge,” he said, punctuating his speech with his finger.

“But if we give Nina to Stefano, we’ll seal our alliance with the Spinietta family.”

Pietro scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “The Spinietta family would betray us without a second thought, if that granted them the chance to rise, family or not. You forget Giuseppe Spinietta killed his own brother to take charge of the business. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stefano and Vito followed his example, someday.”

His father tapped his fingers on the desk, squinting his eyes. “So what do you suggest that we do?”

“We get Nina and Shelby married tomorrow, in secret,” he straightened his back. “During the night, or at dawn. Then we put them on the first boat to England.”

His father got up in an abrupt movement, taking a few steps away from his desk. He rubbed his mouth with his palm, pondering. “You want me to turn my back on my own brother?”

“It’s the only way.”

“He’ll never forgive me.”

“He will, when Shelby’s men help us in our war against Sabini.” Pietro crossed the room with long strides, until he was standing in front of him. “If uncle Antonio was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

“But he’s not here, is he? And I don’t know how happy he’ll be when he finds out we made a decision without consulting him too.”

“Dad, this isn’t about us getting all along,” he said lowly. “This is about us averting a war we don’t need.”

The silence Pietro got in return told him he was finally getting through to him, and it spurred him to go on. He placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, looking him right in the eyes. “I can tell you’re not just worried about uncle Mario. You’re worried about Nina, about sending her away overnight. I am too. But right now, this is the best thing we can do for her. I don’t trust aunt Rita to stay quiet about what happened. If word spreads, she’s ruined.”

His father’s eyes traveled across his face as he took in his words, his expression indecipherable. At that point, Pietro could only hope they’d have the desired effect. Saying more was hazardous, and he had already pushed his luck by talking to him that way.

Long moments passed before his father nodded, more to himself than to him, a bitter smile making its way on his face. Then he affectionately patted him on the cheek. “One day, it’ll be you taking my place. I guess I should start letting you make decisions.”

Nina watched as the first rays of the sun filtered through the lace curtains, hues of amber and violet lightening the dark room. She hadn’t been able to sleep all night, tormented by thoughts of helplessness and guilt. What up until a few hours before had been nothing but a haze had finally taken shape in her mind, forcing her to face the mess she had made. Yet, there was still a missing piece, a doubt that nagged at her brain, a question she just couldn’t find an answer to.

How did it happen? Was there a turning point that had caused the unfolding of that unrelenting chain of events? Or was it a result of something so gradual she didn’t even notice it until it was too late?

Useless musings, she was aware of it. It had happened, no matter when, no matter how. Somewhere along the way, she grew to care for Tommy, and it made her reckless. It made her careless. So careless that she would leave her home, her family, everything she had ever known for the man who her cousin was supposed to marry. She felt like a terrible person for it. God, she was a terrible person. The vicious things she had said to Agnese that afternoon still haunted her. Agnese, who all her life had shown her nothing but kindness. She had ruined everything. For her cousin, for her family, for herself. And the worst thing was, despite the mess, despite the danger, and the risks, and the pain, - she did not regret it. She did not regret him. Because she had never felt more alive than she did with Tommy. When everything was dull and hopeless, he had lit a spark inside her, and that spark had bursted into a flame, and that flame had set her soul on fire. How could she ever regret something like that?

A soft knock on the door cut through her thoughts. Winston promptly raised his little head from his spot next to her, his yellow eyes snapping toward the source of the noise.

“Come in,” she said faintly, so faintly she suspected whoever had knocked couldn’t even hear her. But the door opened, revealing Pietro’s tall frame in the semi-darkness.

“I have just finished speaking to dad,” he said gravely, taking a few steps inside the room. He was still dressed as the previous night, and from the tired look on his face, Nina could tell he hadn’t closed an eye, just like her.

She anxiously scanned his features in search for a shift, a clue she could read to get her answer. But his expression was cold as stone. “And?” she enquired, fidgeting with her own fingers.

Pietro exhaled deeply through his nostrils, placing his hands on his hips. “He agreed,” he nodded, fixing his gaze on a point straight in front of him. “You’re marrying Shelby.” There was no inflection in his voice, nothing that could betray whatever emotion he might be feeling.

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked, letting his words hang in the air, afraid that it was only a trick or her own imagination, a counterfeit reflection of her hopes. “Are you serious?”

Her brother shifted his dark eyes on her, giving her a single nod. “Yes.”

Yes. Her father had said yes. A wave of relief washed over her, and she felt like she had been given back the air taken from her a few hours before. Tommy was safe. He’d be fine. They’d both be fine. She rubbed her eyes with her hand, holding back the sudden tears that had gathered. She hated feeling so emotional, so weak, but she couldn’t help it. And as the realisation sank in, something else came to the surface. Fear. Until that moment, marriage had been nothing more than a distant hypothesis, a possibility, a chance. Now it was awfully real, with all its implications, and risks, and consequences. Because it didn’t matter how strong her feelings for Tommy were, she had no certainties. She was jumping into the void not knowing where she’d land.

The mattress sank beside her, and a warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Chi fai, chianci?” Pietro taunted her, his tone softer, but still bearing a hint of reproach. (What are you doing, you’re crying?)

“No,” she sniffled, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Letting his hand fall, he leaned with his back against the wall, his shoulder brushing against hers. For a while, neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to say. She had brought trouble upon the whole family, she knew that, he knew that. Nothing they could say could undo what she had done, no amount of anger and resentment could make them go back and change it. And Nina had already paid enough. The split lip their father’s heavy hand had left her with was proof of that.

It was Pietro who broke the silence. “If two months ago someone had told me you’d offer to marry a man just to save him I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Nina shook her head, the shadow of a smirk playing on her face. “Me neither.”

“You were supposed to do something more.”

Those words came like a stab. There was no malice in them, just pure, painful truth. A truth everyone around her had forced her to forswear, to lock away in a drawer as yet another hopeless dream. In her heart, she had always known she was meant for something more, that she would never be able to find her happiness in marriage and family, but the reality of things had hit her too hard way too many times.

Nina clenched her jaw, her mouth going dry. “I tried.”

“And you will try again,” Pietro murmured, like a statement of fact. “Because this is who you are.” A shadow of melancholy darkened his eyes. He let out a sigh, dropping his gaze to his hands. “I’m sorry I abandoned you after I came back from the war. I should’ve done more for you, I should’ve forced dad to see what I saw. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe-”

“You did enough,” she interrupted him, but there was no harshness in her voice. “Dad only sees what he wants to see.”

Their father was a stubborn man, and he had his own beliefs, beliefs he had already betrayed by allowing Nina way more than any other father allowed his daughter. Asking him more meant asking him the impossible.

“And…” she pondered her next words, playing with the hem of her nightgown. “This is not a sacrifice. Not completely, at least.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know that Pietro was scrutinising her, waiting for her to go on. For the bomb to drop.

“I care about Tommy,” she revealed. “I might not know what my life would’ve been like had things been different, or what my life will be like a year from now, but I know that I care about him. And that’s enough, for now.”

Her words sounded foreign to her own ears. She had never dared to say it out loud before, and yet there it went, coming out of her mouth as the simplest of truths. She felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Because finally she could admit it to herself. Tommy Shelby had bursted into her life and made her question everything she thought she knew. He had made her feel things she never thought she’d be able to feel for anyone, he had taught her to see him. To love him, without neither of them realising it. And now that she knew how it felt to see and be seen, she wasn’t sure she could just let it go.

When she glanced at Pietro, a small smile tugged at his lips. Her eyebrows knitted in a confused frown. She could swear he was disappointed in her up until a few minutes before. But again, what went through her brother’s mind would always be a mystery to her.

“You’ve always done as you pleased,” he said. “You wanted to finish school, you finished school. You didn’t want to marry Spinietta, you didn’t marry Spinietta. Now you have decided you want to be with Shelby. God knows what you’ll do when we won’t be there to keep an eye on you.”

Despite his attempt at a joke, his voice bore a sadness that pierced right through her, and that she immediately recognised as her own, too.

We won’t be there to keep an eye on you.

That would be the last day she spent at home, with her family. She wouldn’t wake up to her mother’s rants anymore, or to her brothers’ fighting. She wouldn’t sneak into her father’s office to read when she’d need some peace, or cover up Winston’s shenanigans to prevent her mum from throwing him out the house. There was no telling when they’d get to see each other again. She pursed her lips, forcing herself to smile. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“I hope so,” he whispered. He turner to look at her, and when he spoke again, his tone was deadly serious. “You can still do what you want to do. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

She hoped he was right. She desperately wanted to believe he was. But that was the kind of thing only time could tell. She nodded, her eyes travelling to her window. The sun was rising above the horizon.

“Pietro, I need to talk to Tommy.”

She felt him stiffen beside her.

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk after you’re married,” he said dryly.

“Please.“

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. But there are men watching, and they don’t know why Shelby’s confined there. They can’t see you. I can distract them, but you’ll have to be quick.”

Nina nodded frantically. “I’ll be quick,” she promised. “I just need a minute with him.”

“Fuck!”

Tommy’s voice resounded in the small room as he angrily kicked the door. He had been locked in there for hours, like a lion in a cage, waiting to be freed or put down. He had been brought to some kind of shack in the middle of the Sicilian fields, and left there to go insane. From the considerable number of pits he had caught a glimpse of before they pushed him inside, he could tell that was the place where the Ferrante family made people disappear.

Chances were, someone was digging a fresh one for him that very moment.

It was quite the exit, killed miles away from home, then thrown in a shallow grave where no one would ever look for him. All because he had fallen for the wrong woman. Again.

He sat on the edge of the small, uncomfortable bed, and dropped his head in his hands. That was not how it was supposed to go. Things had taken such an unpredictable turn in such a short span of time he could hardly believe it. Some part of him expected to wake up in his bed, in his house in Small Heath, and find out that all of that had been nothing more than a strange dream. He wondered when and how his family would receive the news. If they’d receive the news, or they’d be left to come to their own conclusions. If they’d grieve him, or only grieve the things he wouldn’t be get to give them anymore.

How foolish had been of him, to think he could have a chance at happiness. To think he could find someone whose mere presence seemed to heal the most wounded parts of his soul and keep them. Maybe what Campbell had said to him a few months before was true. Men like him weren’t meant to be loved.

The sound of keys hitting the lock startled him from his musings. His head snapped towards the door, heart racing. He was unarmed, but he could still fight. He was a soldier, for fuck’s sake. And a gangster. He had cheated death more times than he could count, what was one more?

He jumped to his feet, waiting. And it took him more than a moment to realise it wasn’t death who had come for him. It was Nina.

“Nina…”

Before he could say anything, she closed the door behind her and threw herself into his arms, holding him with a strength he had never imagined she could possess. He promptly wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into her hair, her scent soothing his frayed nerves. She was there. She had come for him. He tightened his grip around her, scared that she was only a figment of his imagination, that she would slip away and disappear at any moment.

“Are you alright?” she asked, pulling away just enough to check. She cradled his face in her hands, frowning as she got a glimpse of the cut above his eyebrow.

“I’m fine, love,” he reassured her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her gaze. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

Tommy’s heart clenched in his chest. “Hey, look at me,” he said hoarsely, running his fingers through her raven hair away to move it away from her face. He gently took ahold of her chin, his thumb ghosting over her split lip. “Look at me. I don’t regret anything. You hear me? No regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Nina put her hand on his, then brought it to her lips to place a tender kiss on it. “We need to talk,” she murmured, and sent a quick glance towards the door. “But we need to be quick.”

Tommy swallowed hard, feeling the muscles in his back growing tense. He had to remind himself that yes, Nina was there, but that didn’t mean they were safe, not yet. “Go on.”

“The peace will stand. My father and Pietro are planning to make us get married in secret,” she explained, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Then they’ll send us away. By the time my uncle finds out, it’ll be too late.”

He nodded, taking in her words. He should’ve felt relieved - and he did, to some extent -, but there was a doubt, a fear that stung at the back of his mind like a thorn by his side. Was it what she wanted? He wanted it, he knew it, and he had told her more than once. But she had never expressed the same wish. Not openly, at least.

She must’ve noticed the way he had wavered, because something changed in her expression. “If…” she paused, uncertainty flashing across her face. “If that’s what you want.”

Tommy quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Well, it’s marriage or death, eh?”

Nina inhaled deeply, averting her gaze.

“Nothing has changed for me, Nina,” he said softly. “I’m just worried that this might not be what you want.”

She jerked her head up, shooting him a disbelieving look. “What part of ‘I’m yours’ did you not get?” she reminded him of what she had said to him the previous morning.

Tommy couldn’t help the grin growing on his face, a warmth he only felt with her spreading in his chest. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss on her lips. God, he had been wanting to do that since she had walked through that door.

“Tommy, wait,” she stuttered, gently pushing him away.

He looked at her in confusion. What, now?

“There’s something I need to tell you before we go through with this,” she said, taking a step back. “I mean, it’s not like we have much choice at this point, but still...” She sighed, searching for the right words. “You… you need to know. I don’t want you to jump into-”

“Nina, just speak,” he said firmly, putting an end to her rant.

“I don’t want children,” she blurted out. “I mean, I don’t want them now. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t. But there’s a chance it won’t change, and you need to know.”

Tommy blinked, a frown making its way on his face. That was what worried her that much? He already knew. She had never put it in those words, but from the things she had said to him in the past, he had imagined it. And it wasn’t that big of a deal, for him. “It’s alright. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if it’s never?”

“Then we won’t have them, we’ll be careful,” he assured her. He let out a sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Nina I want you. Fuck the rest. I love you. You don’t have to say it back, but I want you to know.”

Something unreadable flashed across her eyes, and he wondered whether he had made a mistake, by telling her. But he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he had to say it, cause had been eating at him for days. And she needed to know that what they were about to do wasn’t for nothing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Nina glanced behind her. “I need to go,” she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the lips. A bitter disappointment filled his heart. He didn’t want her to go just yet. And a part of him had truly hoped she’d say it back to him.

When Nina walked away from him, she brought with her the warmth that had engulfed him, and he was left feeling almost cold, despite being in the middle of the summer. Before she walked out the door, she turned to face him, as if she had just remembered something. “Winston’s coming with us,” she stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

A throaty chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, Winston’s coming with us.”

She smiled in satisfaction, moving to walk out. Then she stopped again, turning to him one last time. “And Tommy?”

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Having placed the last of her bags in the hallway, Nina took one last look around her bedroom. It had been left almost completely untouched, she didn’t have the time nor the space to take all of her stuff with her. Her desk was still scattered with papers and notebooks, her favourite candle was still resting on the bedside table, her dresser was still full of books. Only her diaries had been safely packed in one of her suitcases. Her eyes trailed over all the things her grandmother had hand-painted for her when she was little: the little flowers on the closet, the bluebird on a corner above the door, the ivy on the side of the dresser. She couldn’t believe she was about to leave it all behind. The place that had watched her grow up, play, fight. The place that she had hated, cursed, that she had so desperately wanted to flee from. The place that would always have a part of her soul, despite everything.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to turn the light off and walk out the door. It was past midnight. It was almost time.

The door of Salvatore’s bedroom was open. They hadn’t talked since the previous night. He had been avoiding her on purpose, ignoring her questions, pretending not to see her, changing room whenever she walked in. She didn’t even know if he’d attend the wedding.

Gathering her courage, she peered into his room. He was facing the window, adding cufflinks to his pristine white shirt. From the way his back stiffened, she could tell he knew she was there, but he didn’t turn around, nor did he utter a single word.

After a moment of hesitation, she spoke. “Are you coming to the church?”

No answer.

She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Is that a no, or…” she trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Again, no answer.

“You’re still so angry with me you won’t even say goodbye?”

Salvatore’s movements came to a halt. He slightly turned his head, looking at her from the corner of his eye, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. For a moment, Nina thought her words might’ve gotten through him. But he didn’t face her. Instead, he walked over to a jacket laying on the chair in front of the desk, and started fumbling in one of the pockets. She frowned, watching as he took something she couldn’t see out of it. As he then approached her with slow steps, she couldn’t help but tense.

Salvatore had become unpredictable, over the past couple of years. He had always had a temper, but the war seemed to have taken it to the extreme, turning his anger into a dormant beast, ready to bite and devour at the slightest trigger. A part of her felt guilty for even thinking that he could ever do something to her. But she hadn’t forgotten the way he had tried to hit her the day before, and the spiteful look in his eyes as he dug his fingers in her arm.

However, there was nothing menacing in his demeanour when he stopped in front of her. He stood tall, proud as usual, but there was a hint of sorrow on his scarred face.

“I know you stole a knife from me a few years ago, and I know you always carry it with you,” he revealed, his lips curving in a grin. “But I thought you should have something more…”, he paused, searching for the right word. “…suitable.”

Nina immediately recognised the switchblade. She knew well the intricate design of its bone handle, the roses painted on it. The family knife. All the men of the family had it. Her father, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins. She carefully grabbed it, turning it in her hand. Its lightness was impressive. She flicked it open in one swift motion, pleased by how easy it was to handle. She read the incisions on the blade. Che la mia ferita sia mortale on one side (May my wound be lethal). Ferrante on the other.

“You don’t forget who you are,” he said, his tone grave. “In less than twenty-four hours you’ll have his surname, but you’ll always be a Ferrante.”

Nina closed the knife, raising her gaze on her brother. For a split second, she got a glimpse of the boy he used to be. The loud boy who bothered her, who pushed her around, who found many different ways to make her angry. And she could swear his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him in a harsh, tight hug, and at first she had no idea how to respond. Her family, including herself, had never been too physical, and they often felt awkward when it came to displaying affection. Yet, it didn’t take her long to warm up. She wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his shirt. They’d never gotten particularly along, they’d had a considerable number of fights and disagreements, but he was still her brother, and she would miss him. She would miss him so much.

He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Si ti tratta mali, iu vegnu e cci rumpu li gammi.” (If he hurts you, I’ll come break his legs.)

The small church smelled of incense, wood and stale beeswax. The pale, timid rays of dawn filtered though the stained glass, eerily falling on the crucifix statue at the rear of the altar. Christ’s tortured face was the only thing Nina could focus on as the priest’s voice reverberated through the stone walls. From where she was kneeling next to Tommy, he seemed to be staring right into her soul.

Her family was standing on the side, and by the looks on their faces, the function looked more like a funeral rather than a marriage. Her father’s expression was a mixture of pain and shame, her brothers were stoic, and as for her mother, she didn’t have the slightest intention to make an effort to hide her discontent. Maria had always wished for her daughter a beautiful wedding gown, a church full of flowers and candles, solemn music. Instead, she got nothing but a short, hurried ceremony. No readings, no elaborate vows. Just a quick ‘yes’, the bare minimum to fix her situation. Then she’d be gone.

Vincenzo Ferrante had taken care of everything. He had instructed the priest on what was to be done, and made sure the language barrier wouldn’t be a problem. Tommy would just have to express his consent. Then, after the ceremony, a car would bring them to the dock.

Nothing had gone as expected. And the Ferrante family could’ve never imagined that after Tommy Shelby’s arrival, they would never be the same.

As the priest spoke, Nina couldn’t make herself listen to him. The crushing weight of an unknown future was slowly descending on her shoulders, growing heavier with each second that passed, trapping her in its dark, icy grip. Fear had taken root inside her, and it was gradually draining her of every ounce of courage she had left, turning it into a poisonous lymph than ran through her veins, to her heart.

In all that darkness, she found herself praying. Praying that things would turn out fine. Praying that she hadn’t been a fool, by following her heart. Praying that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. Never before had she so strongly hoped that there was a God listening. Lacking the blind faith of the believer, she didn’t often pray. Yet, right now it was the only thing she could do. But it wasn’t a Father she was turning to. No. She had always thought that if there was a God, it must’ve been a woman. No Father could love so unconditionally, no Father would ever die for his ungrateful children’s sins. It was the kind of sacrifice only a Mother would make. And the act of creation had never belonged to men. So she prayed that good, nurturing Goddess she desperately wanted to believe in to welcome her plea and protect her like a loving mother.

As if sensing her agitation, Tommy subtly brushed his pinky finger against hers. It’ll be alright, he seemed to say. That fleeting contact was enough to bring her back to her senses, but it hardly calmed her rising panic.

When the priest started to ask the questions, her heart began to race. Tommy shifted his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She was afraid that one look in her eyes would be enough for him to know what thoughts were poisoning her mind.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, vuoi accogliere Anna Ferrante come tua sposa nel Signore, promettendo di esserle fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore…” (“Thomas Michael Shelby, do you take Anna Ferrante to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad…”)

She took a deep breath, trying to escape the fog gathering inside her head.

“Nella salute e nella malattia…” (“In sickness and in health…”)

Marriage. An unbreakable vow. An arrow that, once shot, could never be retreated.

“Di amarla e onorarla tutti i giorni della tua vita?” (“To love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”)

“Sì,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded through the high walls.

She froze, her fears finally gaining the upper hand. Was it what she truly wanted, or just what she thought she wanted? Was she doing the right thing? Would she regret her choice? Was she betraying herself?

“Nina,” Pietro hissed, snapping her out of that whirlwind of thoughts.

Without her even noticing, the priest had asked her the question, and was now waiting for her answer. Everybody was. She gulped, turning to look at Tommy, whose features were now full of apprehension. But she didn’t find the unknown that had scared her so much, in his blue eyes. She found the safety he had made her feel, the love he had shown her through every glance, every word, every touch. Slowly, she let her doubts drift away. She wasn’t scared because she didn’t trust him. She was scared because she had never thought of herself like someone who could be loved, and it felt foreign, and hard to believe.

The words her brother had said to her echoed in her mind. This doesn’t have to be the end.

She bit the inside of her cheek, gathering her courage. It was Tommy, just Tommy. He loved her. She loved him. She could still do the things she wanted to do.

So she said yes.

The land slowly faded into a dark silhouette as the ship sailed farther and farther away. Nina’s eyes strove to hold on to it, refusing to move until it became a black dot, and then disappeared into the distance.

Her heart felt astoundingly lighter.

She leaned against the railing, watching as the light reflected off the crystal water, sparks dancing across the blue expanse of the sea. She had ripped off her roots, mercilessly severing them one by one, and found herself surprised to acknowledge how easy leaving was once she had eradicated herself.

There was just one thing weighing her down. She would never forget the look in her father’s eyes when they said goodbye, or his silence when she asked him if would ever forgive her. In her heart, she knew he’d never be able to look at her the same. Although kept secret, the stain of shame had dried all over her name, and it could never be washed away.

Shame. That word had been following her like a shadow ever since she was a child. She became scared of it before she even knew what it meant. It hung over her head, carrying the terrifying promise of a wretched fate. A four-headed monster whose dreadful eyes watched her every step, waiting for her to fall.

It would have to wait a while longer. Because there were lots of things to be ashamed of, but love was not one of them.

She glanced at Tommy, standing next to her against the railing. Smartly dressed, with his peaky cap on and his gun poking out of his jacket, he looked just like the first time she saw him. She couldn’t notice it in the church, too overwhelmed by her own thoughts. He rubbed a cigarette between his lips, then placed it in his mouth, his gaze lost in thought. Like her, he was probably just processing everything that happened. She wished she could enter inside his mind, only for a moment, to know what was going through it. If, now that they had taken that step, there was any kind of regret taking shape inside it. But when he shifted his blue eyes on her and gave her a playful wink, her worries started to fade. His look was still as full of love as it was in the church.

“You’ve survived my family,” she said, lightly nudging him with her elbow. “Now it’s my turn.”

A wide grin grew on his face, which he concealed by lighting the cigarette. “I think you’ll fit in just fine,” he murmured.

Nina shook her head, her own lips curving in a smile. She wasn’t that scared anymore. The unknown opening in front of her felt more like a chance, rather than a threat, and she was ready to step into it. But there was still a needle digging into her brain, one it would take time for her to get rid of.

“Tommy,” she grabbed his attention, her tone dead serious.

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows twitching slightly as he waited for her to go on.

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it.”

A/N: We’ve come to the Epilogue of Part 1, and I still can’t believe that over the course of almost one year and a half it became what it became. I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who have followed Nina’s journey up until now, and those who will continue to follow it in the next parts. To those who have left comments, and asks, and engaged constantly with it. I may often be late with my replies, but I can assure you I remember each one of you. The loved you have showed to this story has been so important for me. A special thanks also goes to my wonderful mutuals, who have joined this mess and shown endless support. And for those of you who will continue to read this, be ready, cause this is far from the ending. I’m so excited to move forward, and I hope you will be, too🤍

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@mischievouslittlecreature @seedlings-stuff @misslittlegetou @strangeobsessed

General Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark

@jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

@lunarubra @rangerelik

Tommy Shelby tag list

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378 @jbrownta

#zablife recommends #rebel writer ❤️‍🔥

77 notes · View notes

f1cflcfic · 3 days ago

Text

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz)

Well, sometimes the muse outruns your earlier plans. I wasn't going to write a Carlos fic, but here we are :) This one is fully written and only has three parts, hope to update every 5 days!

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: 1.6k words, written au, brief 18+ content, angst

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just the sheer exhaustion that’s keeping you from finding your house keys after a night out with your friends.

You curse out loud, digging your hand back into your purse, even though you know it’ll be another futile attempt.

It’s not there.

Dread settles in, as you consider your options. You’d been the last one in the Uber, so all your friends have undoubtedly already crashed out. You could book a hotel, but that seems very excessive, expensive, and also just incredibly inopportune. Everything you need, your contact solution, your glasses, your pyjamas – it’s all just on the other side of the door.

With a sigh, you lean your clammy forehead against the front door.

“Fuck,” you whisper, as realisation sets in. You’re going to need a spare key. And it just so happens there’s only two other people who might have one, of which one is currently on holiday in Thailand.

Which leaves you with the worst option of all. With a sigh, you grab your phone and scroll through your contacts. “x do not interact x ”

“Needs must,” you mutter to yourself, then press the green call button. It’s well past midnight, and you feel bad about calling – but you also know that if anyone’s going to answer, it’s him.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before it comes to life with a little crackle.

“Hello?” You close your eyes almost on instinct, as his rough voice washes over you. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did, but the ache still lingers.

“I know it’s late, and I know we’re not supposed to talk, but I’m drunk and dumb, and I can’t find my key,” you rush out all at once.

There’s faint rustling on the other end of the line, but then he comes back. “I got it. Just eh – wait? I’ll be there in 10.”

For seven minutes, you pace up and down the hallway in your apartment building – desperately convincing yourself of the fact that this won’t end badly.

You’re broken up. Have been broken up for a month. It’s the sole reason why your friends took you out, to celebrate that it’d been a month of going no contact with your ex.

Because you deserved better. You deserved someone who’d say “I love you” back, who’d buy you flowers, who’d take you out on dates that weren’t just sponsor events, and holidays that were just the two of you.

You deserve to be someone’s priority. So you’d told him it was over, and it had somehow made you even more mad that he’d just accepted it.

“Hi,” a voice says softly, and you immediately feel tears burn behind your eyes.

“Hi Carlos,” you reply meekly, waiting and watching as he approaches slowly. He’s wearing soft grey sweatpants, and a hoodie you once bought him in your favourite colour.

It’s uncomfortable and weird, the way in which neither of you really knows how to greet each other beyond that. Initiating any type of bodily contact seems like a bad decision, not when you know it's never going to satisfy the itch. It'd only make you crave his touch more, in ways you can't have it. Not anymore.

He awkwardly lifts his hand and shows you the spare key you’d once given him. The one he hadn’t given back yet. Your stomach lurches as you catch sight of the tiny sparkly chilli keychain dangling in the air.

“Shall I?” He asks, motioning at the door that you’d unconsciously been blocking with your body.

“Right, sorry,” you mutter, and quickly take a step back to give him some room.

Belatedly, you realise you should’ve just taken the key from him altogether right then and there.

But he's here now.

So instead, you thank him for coming out to you at 3AM in the morning. “Do you want to come in? Have something to drink before you leave again?”

You regret it the moment the words come out your mouth, as you can see Carlos visibly flinch. “I didn’t mean – no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I think you did, though. And you’d be right. I was pretty good at leaving, wasn’t I?” He rubs his face with his hand, your eyes following the movement.

It drops back down, then pushes the door open a little further. Your eyes trail up his arm, lingering briefly on his neck. It’s lost some of its thickness, signalling the off-season. He’s handsome either way, but it just makes you hurt over lost time and moments together.

Your need to catalogue all the ways in which his appearance has changed is distracting, and you’ve inched closer to him – closer than strictly necessary, before you realise.

You shuffle past him, carefully knocking into his arm just so. You kick off your heels, and hang your bag on the coatrack.

You look back over your shoulder, then point at the basket neatly situated on the side table in your hallway. “Look. Keys are right there.”

“Cariño,” he warns, but against what, you’re not entirely sure.

He should probably leave, you think. He could have left. If he’d wanted to.

“You could just drop those keys off there as well,” you add, coaxing him to make a choice.

To finally step foot inside your apartment for the first time in 6 weeks. Or to never see it again.

He exhales, dark brown eyes zeroing in on yours as he makes his way in. He doesn’t drop the keys in the basket, but instead closes the door behind him, then takes off his shoes. Clearly he remembers how much you hate dirty shoes inside. “Don’t you think tonight proves it’s probably good if I held onto these?”

“I think it proves I need someone to have spare keys. It doesn’t need to be you,” you counter, then turn around and walk to the kitchen. He follows wordlessly, gaze never straying from you as you pour the two of you a glass of wine.

“Where are you staying, anyways? Ten minutes isn’t far off,” you ask, softly this time.

“Alex’ place,” he explains. “Our – the apartment flooded.” He’s quiet for a second, then takes the glass of wine as you hand it to him. “This keychain is a chilli. It’s mine.”

You study him across the top of your wine glass, follow the way he takes a sip and lets the red wine slide down his throat. It makes your cheeks flush, although you’re fairly certain you can hide behind the alcohol you’d already consumed earlier this evening.

“Mi favorito,” Carlos murmurs appreciatively. You know he’s talking about the wine, but for a millisecond, you deliberately let yourself misunderstand. Let yourself forget and fantasise.

Silence wraps around the two of you as you offer him a piece of leftover tiramisu that you pull from the fridge. He grabs the spoon from you, and takes a bite. It shouldn’t look as sinful as it does. But it’s Carlos, and it’s you. Habits die hard.

Sure, maybe it is the alcohol, maybe it is your exhaustion, you reason with yourself. Or maybe it’s the charged air that surrounds you two – even now you’re no longer together.

“Why’d you answer when I called?” You blurt out, the alcohol making you a little bolder than you’d normally be.

His hand stills from where it had been swirling the glass. He looks up at you again, and you feel your knees go weak. There’s a devastating vulnerability in those eyes, one that’s hard to ignore. “Tu sabes. Do you wish I hadn’t answered?”

You set your wineglass down again, now empty, then lean over the countertop. Close enough to count his eyelashes, and the tiny freckles he’s acquired from being out in the sun with his family. It hurts not having seen them develop in real time.

“I wish a lot of things, Carlos.”

His eyes rove your face, then linger on your lips for a second longer. “Me, too.”

Your gaze drops, too. And even though your heart is smashed to smithereens in your chest, your memories are telling you not to do it, and you know your friends will crucify you before picking up the pieces - it’s the lust and love-addled part of your brain that handles purely on emotion that wins out.

On reflex, you’ll justify later, you find yourself kissing Carlos in your kitchen at 3AM in the morning.

On reflex, you don’t even register how your own fingers roam around his body, and peel off the hoodie you’d gotten him.

On reflex, he hauls you into your bedroom, and teases you with his tongue while his lashes flutter against the apex of your thighs.

It’s not on reflex, when he asks if he needs to use a condom. It breaks the lust-fuelled haze, and instead it’s got you on the brink of crying in the blink of an eye. But you’re so close now, can almost taste the way in which this is going to both ruin and complete you at the same time.

You know this is exactly why you shouldn’t have called him, but it’s also exactly why you’re not going to stop this now. Even when you know you should.

So instead, you let the anger course through your body, scratching his back with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “You tell me,” you pant in his neck, before sucking a bruise into his skin. You can feel his jaw tick, but he refrains from grabbing a condom nonetheless.

It shouldn’t make you feel the things it does.

Then again, Carlos shouldn’t be in your bed, buried balls deep inside of you, making you come three times in a row either.

Not when you’d been doing so well at the no contact rule.

You guess, then, that you deserve the feeling of hot shame and embarrassment rushing over you the next morning. It’s your punishment for being foolish, as you realise you shouldn’t have been surprised at the fact that he’s no longer next to you.

The only evidence he was ever there, is the stupid fucking hoodie left on your bedroom floor, and the sticky feeling between your legs.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated.

#carlos sainz jr x reader #f1 x reader #carlos sainz fic #cs55 fic #cs55 x reader #cs55 x y/n #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr fanfic #carlos sainz jr x you

29 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 2 days ago

Note

[Same anon who was talking about when Salem will find out the truth abt Ozmas curse] yknow, thinking of the Ozma-Salem reconciliation, I'm curious about what will happen when everything is over. Specifically I'm curious on if they'll stay immortal or if they'll choose to become mortal again? Being honest, I could see Salem choosing to stay immortal, probably turning what was used to harm her into something she owns (if she hasn't already tbh). I'm... less sure about Oz? I could see him wanting to, but how he reincarnates is... definitely a problem considering it's identity issues if it were a form of immortality lmfao.

Of course, this depends on them getting that choice in the first place, but I feel like it wouldn't be satisfying if they didn't, though i have no idea how they would get it (i doubt Light would budge, Darkness is probably Ascended, and i theorize Light will ascend and become human, sooo...), unless the Tree has that ability? No idea. I do think Oz will Ascend so maybe that'll be addressed then if that happens (note: if he Ascends, I personally think it'd be fun if he came out a faunus/snake faunus. It's not really a theory, just smth I'd do if I were writing RWBY, and the chances of that happening are pretty slim, IF he ascends at all lol. So it's more a self indulgent thought than a real theory).

Do you have any thoughts on whether or not they'll stay immortal, or both become mortal? It's pure speculation, but that's what makes it fun :P

(BTW I wanted to see if you were doing okay, if you're willing to answer? You disappear sometimes and idk if that's normal or not. Hope you're doing good!)

-🌙 <- for if I decide to send more asks

(yeah i'm doing fine. just busy irl)

anyway—prior to v9 i would have said definitely they both wind up mortal again, but then v9 threw its curveball of overtly questioning the premise that everything must die. immortality for ozlem has hitherto been framed strictly as a curse, because ozma sees it that way; i think it remains to be seen whether salem feels the same, because:

a) "if she were to turn humanity against Light and Darkness, she could rid herself of their curse, or at the very least… she could make them suffer." <- even before her rebellion, salem had begun to accept the possibility that she might never be able to make herself mortal again if she defied the brothers, and she made a deliberate decision to fight back anyway.

b) it has been so long that i have to imagine it is hard for her to even conceive of dying as a real possibility anymore? so even if she theoretically would welcome the chance to die i'm skeptical that it's more than a "what if the world was made of pudding?" type of nonsense hypothetical in her mind.

and c) everything points to "salem wants to change the world" being the correct view, with salem herself envisioning a "new world"—and in the event that is true, salem isn't suicidal full stop.

the thing that makes her immortality a curse has always been isolation and exile, neither of which are innately because she's immortal. indeed the very first thing salem used her immortality to do once she decided to live was connect with people and build a coalition. the reason for her exile in the present is not her immortality per se but the fairytale narrative construing her as the Great Evil. becoming mortal again won't materially change those circumstances.

ozma is in a different boat because, as you note, his form of immortality is bad per se—fatal to his hosts and torturous for him. we have however seen that a living soul without a body will just manifest a new body, both on remnant (penny) and in the ever after (ruby isn't just magically healed in the tree—her whole self is remade, hence the burning rose returns to her in the end—she's disembodied and remakes herself). so the immediate concern with oscar and ozma is to divide their souls, and i think there are a few of possibilities as to how:

literal ascension via the tree

the sword of destruction

silver eyes as the mirror revealing what is true (two, not one)

salem

some combination of 2-4.

from that point the crucial question is whether separating ozma and restoring him to his own body oncedoes or doesn't break his cursed reincarnation forever. if it doesn't (or if he isn't willing to take the risk that it doesn't) then… frankly the simplest and surest way to put an end to ozma reincarnating as a parasite forever is to make him immortal the way salem is immortal. if his soul can't die, he can't be bound to another by light's curse. it is death that empowers his curse.

so to take away what gives light power over ozma, give ozma infinite life. right?

which… i mean, the well of creation gave salem infinite life; she hoped that the pool of grimm would take it away; take from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity remains; this force of pure destruction could not destroy, so it created… it's possible for two souls to be bound together as one and it's possible for one soul to be divided into two. the possibility of salem dividing her infinite life in order to share it with ozma isn't exactly a leap.

certainly i wouldn't rule out a straightforward ascension through the tree being the answer—it is kind of the obvious course—but i've been rolling dark's parting words to salem around in my mind a lot since v9. "still making demands of your creators?"

that rebellion ended in crushing defeat because they tried to fight back with the gifts the brothers gave them—power that did not in truth belong to humanity, because those gifts were not freely given. this is a lesson salem took to heart, hence her insinuation (in WOR) of aura/semblances being much greaterthan mere magic, cinder using grimm (a kind of power salem claimed for herself after the brothers abandoned it) to mediate her inheritance of the fall maiden (a mere remnant of god-given power bequeathed to modern humans by light's champion, which salem has repeatedly warned cinder to be cautious of), and her recent experiment with combining silver eyes with grimm.

presuming salem is involved in the separation and breaking of ozma's curse at all, i think it's deeply unlikely she would be willing to trust the tree to just fix everything; i think there's a not-insignificant possibility that she has met the blacksmith herself before and may be factoring what she knows about the tree and/or the brothers' history into her plans, but if so it would be more on the level of knowing the brothers are finite and broken, not expecting the tree to save her.

(sidebar: there's an expectation across a lot of the fandom now that the brothers can/will be 'defeated' by tagging in the blacksmith to scold them for being naughty, and that is just… not going to happen. lol. the blacksmith makes it crystal clear that neither she nor the tree can or will intervene, and while the brothers need to ascend and that's the obvious outcome the narrative is moving toward now, convincing light [and dark if he's still around] to do it is a problem remnant's people are going to need to figure out for themselves. also the fandom-wide treatment of the brothers as spoiled little boys who just need mom to scold them is both inane and, frankly, misogynistic—because "well, the brothers are petty assholes but salem is just a spoiled bitch throwing a tantrum because they didn't give her what she wanted, and actually all her problems are self-inflicted" is an outrageous position to hold about a woman hating the genocidal monsters who murdered an entire planet to spite her. and then the cherry on top is anticipating that the conflict will be solved by way of "mommy" swooping in to clean up the mess her silly boys made. come the fuck on.)

anyway, i figure salem will be stridently in the camp of "no, we need to forge our own path." ozma, likewise, i can only imagine feeling extremely dubious of just putting his life into the hands of any god after what light did to him—let alone a god who is completely unknown to him. if he and salem think there is even the smallest chance that the two of them can break his curse by working together without divine intervention, i… think that will be Plan A for sure. after all, THIS is how ozpin closes out 'fairytales of remnant':

One interpretation of this story focuses on the fact that the people caused the problem in the first place. But in my view, it is only natural for us to want to bring more light into the world and “reach for the sun.” And on the brighter side, if you’ll excuse the pun, people were also part of the solution. They not only replaced the sun, a celestial gift from the all-powerful God of Light, but also improved upon it through their own ingenuity. Most importantly, they could not have accomplished this magnificent, godly feat without uniting for a common purpose in a way they never had before. The world once was divided between day and night, light and darkness, but by coming together, and overcoming their inherent jealousy and resentment, people made the darkness just a little bit brighter for all.

a parable about humanity claiming the powers of their creators to perfect their own design; a parable about the world coming together to replace their divine gifts, and in doing so create a better world in divinity's absence. like i'm always saying, ozma's zealotry is grounded in fear—in his terrified certainty that the brothers are all-powerful forces of nature who cannot be fought—but the world salem aspires to create is the one he dreams of too, in his heart of hearts.

as for oz becoming a faunus—i honestly would not be surprised if he did? both thematically (the faunus in the myth are liberated through transformation into their true inner selves -> ozma must be liberated from oscar through transformation into his true self; the faunus mythically participate in their own creation and in doing so free themselves to choose their own destinies, making faunus the symbolic if not literal triumph of salem's rebellion) and, if i'm correct about faunus having been created by salem's transformation in the pool of grimm, also mechanically (in that event she would be the literal god of animals and manifestation of animal-like features representing the inner self follows the metamorphic pattern she created, so if it's predominately her magic mediating ozma's transformation/restoration then it would follow for him to become a faunus.)

but if he does, i think what he'll end up with is an avian trait—like trust love ("if you could only open up a door/spread your wings and fly away from here/write yourself into a fairytale/all your problems would just disappear") and sacrifice ("born an angel, heaven-sent/falls from grace are never elegant") both pretty explicitly, in opposite ways, equate wings with ozma's freedom. (hi @st-whalefall i see you.) and then there's the way ozma describes the branwens' bird forms: "Using this power, I was able to gift the Branwen twins the ability to "see" more, to move freely and be unburdened by their natural bodies. I... well... gave them the ability to turn into birds." <- freedom, unburdening, and clearer sight. IF ozma becoming a faunus through breaking his curse is in the cards, i would think this is pretty blunt foreshadowing.

and if it isn't—well, it's symbolic and might well remain symbolic but another thought i've been rolling around for a while is ozma finding some way of separating himself from oscar as a bird. they're fighting this curse together now; the curse is fighting back, and with the kids returned from the ever after, oscar and oz are going to be hearing about ascension and afteran magic and—maybe, depending on how detailed team rwby is in their account—about "you could just be human, or just a cat, if you wanted."

in one myth, faunus are created by the combination of sapient animals and human beings—through, it might be said, the merger of two souls into a singular new being. blake, in v1, is reading a novel about a man with two souls, fighting for control over his body. ozma loves stories, myths, fairytales—relies onstories to make sense of himself and his life. his curse is a false, corrupted form of ascension, and when blake looked at herself in the tree's mirror, it asked "are you complete? do you wish to return human-and-animal, separated?"

for blake, that was the tree's gentle way of confronting her with her past self-hatred, to help her see and crystallize how much she's grown from being that terrified girl who secretly wished she could just be human. but think about how oz and oscar might take that story.

oscar doesn't like using magic because it makes the merge faster. long ago, ozma carved out his divinely-given magic and created the maidens in hope of sparing his hosts, but the magic of his curse remains. he can't sever himself from his hosts, and fighting the curse outright causes it to lash out and hurt them both. but ozma also did *something* to grant the branwens shapeshifting; either he really did draw on his own curse to do that, or else he used the crown of choice to make it so. either way… the curse keeps trying to force him forward. force him to come out.

in the lost fable, the final outcome of his curse is at least represented by something like a haunting—ozma sees his other-self watching him from outside of himself. this may or may not be literal in the sense of what ozma experiences, but the idea of 'one soul in the body, one soul outside' is narratively in play. and ozma was able to seal himself off from oscar in a way that does seem to have altered the nature of their connection, or at least created room for oscar to reclaim his individuality.

so what happens if ozma gathers all the magic and throws his will behind the curse's attempts to shove him forward, instead of against, with the specific purpose of manifesting himself in some physical form outside of oscar's head, drawing on old myths about faunus being similarly two-in-one that blake's account of the ever after seems to corroborate as having a kernel of truth?

like—why not try something weird and out of the box? what have they got to lose? if it doesn't work then they're back to square one of grappling with the curse, and if it does then not only have they figured out a new way to give oscar some room to breathe but ozma emerging as a bird with a psychic connection to oscar would be real fucking helpful for the coalition as a spy/scout.

#i also just think it would be funny if oz got himself stuck as a bird for a while #funniest option: ostrich.

21 notes · View notes

franeridan · 1 year ago

Text

naw, I mean, I get being sad that gojo died and wishing it didn't happen, but I've been seeing people saying that it made no sense for him to lose here and that's just not true, let's not do that, a happy ending would have been wonderful for everyone but gojo was not the main protagonist and his death was spelled out the moment he started fighting the main antagonist. let alone that gege said a trillion years ago that the only one who could ever defeat him was megumi so it only made sense that adding megumi and sukuna to each other meant getting someone stronger than gojo. And even outside of in-universe reasons why this was the obvious outcome, from a storytelling pov gojo couldn't stay alive with just how overpowered he was, what's yuuji for if everything can be solved by him? Again, gojo's not the protagonist, he doesn't get to be the saitama or mob of jjk, he's not allowed to be that overpowered and survive it'd just break the plot. I'm saying that you get to be sad about it and wish it wasn't so, but saying that his death wasn't obvious from the moment people started dying liberally or that it wasn't natural for him to lose against sukuna in this form is just not true

#jjk spoilers #personally i find it a satisfying end for him #he was sad and depressed and living a shitty lonely life with the prospect of staying alive enough to see everyone he loved die before him #this is a story yk it's not real life #he gets to find a happy ending in the afterlife if that's the only way for him #this is NOT a satisfying situation for shoko of course but this isn't about her so I'm giving this to gojo #gege gave him peace he gets to have that #the whole speech about the loneliness of being the strongest and how nice it felt for him to find someone stronger than him #like yeah #yeah #he gets to have that for me #but you can be sad about it! disappointed that he couldn't find happiness in his life! that's not wrong!#it's just that it's not true it made no sense for him to die #you can hate it but under every light it's been obvious he'd go for a while now

6 notes · View notes

dariusaurs · 4 months ago

Text

i think dinostar is such an interesting ship right now even if i've kind of turned away from it after this season. the problem is that it's complicated, and fandoms historically don't like nuanced situations or takes. i don't think it's fair to say darius is putting brooklynn on a pedestal, since from his perspective, she hasn't done anything wrong, and kenji has been framed as this unfair partner to her. it does feel like his feelings are very immature and more of an infatuation right now ("if he loved you half as much.."/"unless?"), especially when you compare them to kenji's own feelings for brooklynn - his girlfriend who he's loved for 6 years - but that isn't a horrible thing, it's just different. i do completely understand if people dislike the ship right now, and even criticize darius' way of handling the accidental confession, but i just think people have been way too harsh on all three of them without being willing to see that all of their perspectives are different

#like darius' whole thing this season was his tendency to say or do the wrong thing and make things awkward by complete accident #he's a very awkward person as it is and considering he's also never dealt with romantic feelings before and he didn't even mean to tell her #about them it makes sense that he once again said and did the wrong things while trying to fix it #i'm not going to judge his characterization just yet until we see how he handles his own feelings vs kenji's next season after finding out #she's alive #he was still respectful of her and i doubt after learning more of kenji's side and realizing this man genuinely does still love and miss he #that he would prioritize pursuing her romantically(especially since she already yk.. rejected him and also literally just left them all)#if anything i think the finale putting his feelings about her survival to the side and focusing on how it hurt kenji to see her alive and #leave him kind of indicates that brooklynn's not really going to be much of a love interest for darius after this #which imo as a dinostar enjoyer and professional darius lover i'm actually okay with #slightly off topic but season 2 has made me really appreciate kenlynn on its own because of how tragic and nuanced it is #so i think focusing on them instead is not only a better decision in terms of consistency and storytelling but it's just the more realistic #and satisfying choice right now #and that's not to say i think they'll be perfectly fine or even together again once they're reunited properly #in fact i very much hope she ends up alone and they all get closure from this #and there's always the possibility that later on the show might actually revisit dinostar again #which would be better than them trying to do so now in my opinion #idk this is probably a mess but i've been trying to think about how i felt about this love triangle for awhile and since s2 handled it #completely differently than i thought they would. i feel like it's not going to be that simple #and i just wish fans of all sides would kind of chill out on the characters lmao #jwct #chaos theory #jwct s2 spoilers #brooklynn jwct #jwct season 2 spoilers #dinostar #kenlynn #kenji kon #darius bowman #jurassic world

44 notes · View notes

neixins · 8 months ago

Text

the more i think about it the more plausible i think it is that yona will end up “sacrificing” herself to save the dragons. obviously she won’t die (she’d be willing to do so, sure, but this just isn’t the sort of story that’d kill off its protagonist) but she will sever her connection with hiryuu (the same way i’ve been saying for ages now that she’ll sever the connection between the dragon warriors and their powers/the dragon gods) bc like. zeno and countless generations of dragon warriors have been stuck in this cycle for so long because they’ve been waiting for hiryuu, right? so the way to break the cycle is to send hiryuu back to the heavens, despite how loath he is to part with humans, bc otherwise even if yona managed to save her friends the cycle wouldn’t actually end, the gods would just find new vessels bc they don’t really care about the damage they cause as long as they can Protect Hiryuu…. and this is making me think of zeno’s line in ch 255: “even if the dragon warriors are gone, this country can get back on its feet on its own. life goes on, with or without us.” which.. to be fair he was using as justification for a failed murder-suicide attempt but if yona says it in a different context…….and then to have the happy hungry bunch back in business helping people, only sans superhuman powers…..oh it’d be such a satisfying ending!!

#taking a break from proofreading to theorize. as one does #i’ve seen the yona sacrifices herself theory around a few times but ngl i wasn’t on board until i worked through the Why of it myself gjdfjk #i can see other potential endings but at least based on the pieces we have so far i personally wouldn’t find them as satisfying #in this scenario zeno either gets to die or is alive and mortal. take ur pick #i prefer the latter option a bit more but if anyone ends up dying it’ll be him and it makes sense narratively #akayona #OKAY now back to trying to meet an impossible deadline! wish me luck my dear imps

19 notes · View notes

fictionadventurer · 1 year ago

Text

An underrated benefit of love triangles is that they allow you to have a love story where the ending isn't immediately obvious. In your standard romance, the two leads meet, and then it's just a matter of time until they hit the plot beats that lead to the happily ever after. But the love triangle gives you two plotlines! Two different dynamics! Two valid directions for the plot to veer that will still lead to a romantic happy ending without that ending being a foregone conclusion.

The main character can grow and change in multiple different ways because there are two men on equal standing with her, who can have an influence on her in different ways, giving her multiple different lenses to help her understand who she is and who she really wants to be. When it's done right, the story will be satisfying no matter what the endgame is, because the point is going along on the journey and seeing who the characters become. And the great thing is that you don't know who they'll become because there are two valid options, so the entire story can be surprising, which is so refreshing when so many love stories are so predictable.

#random thought of the day #books #ignoring the multiple books i'm in the middle of should-be-reading #i dove into the only other una silberrad book available on ebook #('the good comrade' if you want to know)#and i'm a quarter of the way through #we've met two possible love interests #and i'm thrilled to find that i have no idea what endgame is going to be #there's one that i'm probably leaning toward that's a bit more standard enemies-to-lovers who enjoy intellectual sparring #but the other option is a *lot* like the love interest in her other book #i don't know if she'd be happy with him but he's going to have a huge effect on her character arc #and honestly she'd probably be a better person with him #both options would be satisfying endings so i can just settle back and go along for the ride #a theme i'm finding in her work (at least these two books) is what happens when people with different moral systems collide #people who are ruled by morality vs people ruled by convention vs people ruled by honor #and people who have different ideas of what they mean by all these things #different definitions of what they mean by right and wrong #and how their worlds are shaken when they interact with each other and find different ways of viewing things #and it makes for *really* satisfying romances because it's about how these people clash and collide and change each other #i'm not even sure she's doing it on purpose because these books are really rather slight #but the somewhat shallow style secretly offers a lot of ways to dive deeper #but it only really comes out later when you find yourself thinking about it after the book is shut #it's not necessarily obvious in the flow of the plot #i don't know how it works but it's fascinating

53 notes · View notes

bodaciousspaghettimonster · 1 year ago

Text

the fact that ofmd isn’t trending on the day of season 2’s finale speaks volumes. everyone is mourning at the loss of the soaking wet chihuahua new unicorn

#our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #spoilers #lemme say: it’s sad #it’s very sad #but it’s also bittersweet #i personally found it satisfying especially since there technically hasn’t been a renewal for season 3 #‘you find the family you’re willing to die for when yours are long dead’ and he did that #he was ready to go #they were foreshadowing it all season #in the very first scene of the season stede dreams of killing him #he begs for death when his leg was shot #he literally tried to off himself at one point #i know this is the website that can’t handle permanent character death #but this was the only way for his arc to end

15 notes · View notes

4giorno · 11 months ago

Text

i got the cutscene <3

#its actually crazy that there was even more content i missed that impacted the story this much #like this rlly illustrated how even tho my character and astari0n have both become better people astari0n is still so behind in that #(we know why ofc. hes still acting like a feral cat trying to self preservere with teeth and nail and all until the very end; the ritual)#my character had his most obvious 'shifting point' at the transition from act 2 to act 3 #like he fully realized that this is now truly bigger than himself. he has left marks on the lands and he has to go all the way #he has made true friends. one of his best friends is the kindest most compassionate person in the world #and very importantly he loves astari0n and THAT is the reason he now feels this actual compassion towards the other spawn #hes so personally invested in this issue now #and he can say that 'the world can be a wonderful place if you find your home in it astari0n' bc its something he has just recently had #a personal revelation abt #and astari0n deflects it and describes my character as someone who now 'spends their life sorting out other peoples problems'#and it rlly brings it to focus that he just cannot meet him where hes at anymore #just great conflict that feels actually meaningful and perfectly fits into the roleplay storyline ive made for my character #and omg the line 'im doing this for you too you know. to make sure were both safe. forever' from astari0n is just AAAAAAHDJJDJD. CRAZY #bc we know how toxic he becomes towards you if he completes the ritual!!!!!!#HHHHH this character!!!!! hes just MWAH. perfection #i cant wait until i get to doing the szarr palace again bc this added conflict will make the conclusion of this quest even more satisfying #anyway TOTAL tonal shift time. in start of the cutscene astari0n is standing next to the bed my character was sleeping in #so i can now have the hc that some nights they sleep in the same bed <3 #(WELL. you know. my character sleeps while he meditates)

2 notes · View notes

glubandeepspace · 2 months ago

Text

i see various talk abt happy endings in hopes for one as a focus and i have been such a person sometjmes and but also im like,,, but surely if knowing the lore, it's clear there have already been endings. in many ways. in the past, future, and even main timeline

many versions of many certain people have already died or suffered or so far still are or definitely will, all not only shown but highlighted. some things havent been / cant be regained, even if they were to remember, and sometimes remembering ironically ruins the happiness by at least half. versions aside there are still things/ppl lost.

happiness is relative (maybe subjective) and time is relative esp in this achronologically storytold game

the game already establishes a big theme of this the way i see it and how nonetheless this happiness matters (is even still worth fighting for) (live laugh love), even if it cant be truly, consistently eternal and simple and guaranteed

#tldr i personally find ''whether Ending sad'' redundant n reductive BUT bc/when i Think Too Much abt Semantics amd everything #while genuinely not understanding what some might mean abt stuff like #woo abysswalker got mc back! but DID he...? did mc get Him Back Really? blahblah Even With (Quasi)immortality Theres Deaths of Selves Blah #glubabbles #that said. i still think itd be so juicy n satisfying if theres Remembering and Happy Final End. but like...#sadly on Philos... but going on the theory Philos shit is unavoidable. idk again i not seen xav branch yet and #a few other stuff not directly #☝️🤓 tldr tldr emo tumblr user finds equal value in fiction sads

0 notes

silverwhittlingknife · 2 years ago

Text

#i will always be feral over this line because#is he lying? is he telling the truth?#and the answer is: yes#because before dick saved him tim clearly had no thoughts he was going to be saved#but after dick did save him well#clearly the fact that dick will always catch tim is a fundamental truth to tim#so he's both lying and telling the truth <3 (via @scintillyyy)

The other reason I think Red Robin 12 is a moment of trust between Tim and Dick is that Dick catches Tim.

Dick has a lot of issues with the concept of catching or failing to catch someone who is falling. It’s haunted his dreams.

(Nightwing #4)

It’s not so much the fall itself - Dick is fine with heights and with throwing himself off high places.

(Gotham Nights #10, Nightwing #140)

It’s about the fact he doesn’t make the catch.

One of my favourite bits of the Freefall storyline is Dick catching the Mother of Champions’ baby. Because it ties back to this fear of not getting there in time.

(Nightwing #6, Nightwing #146)

Nightwing catches the baby and is able to hand him to his mother. Wu Mei-Xin has never held any of her children before, it’s a lovely moment. It really caps off the growth Dick goes through over his solo.

(Nightwing #146)

And similarly, Dick being there to catch Tim is important imagery in their relationship.

Dick catches Tim when they’re playing around, train surfing:

(Nightwing #25)

Dick ‘catches’ Tim when he’s depressed. “You’re not catching me at a bad time”.

(Robin #156)

Dick is there to catch Tim as he falls apart after pouring out the water from the Lazarus pit.

(Nightwing #139)

And Dick is there to catch Tim as he falls from a building.

(Red Robin #12)

Dick’s grasp has never missed, when it’s Tim. It’s IMPORTANT to Dick that he make the catch for anyone, when they’re falling in front of him, but it’s especially important to him when it’s a child (and when it’s his baby brother).

Tim can honestly say to Dick “you’ll always be there for me” because a little part of him, deep inside, trusts that no matter what, no matter how impossible it might seem, Dick will be there to catch him.

#YEAH red robin is VERY intentional with imagery and callbacks and this is such a great moment ;_;#i think mmm how to put this #a lot of the subtext of red robin is about dick not catching tim / tim not having faith that he would #he isn't there for tim at the start of the story and he's initially pretty wary/reluctant in collision #but he comes through at the end and the end is what counts #and that's why i find it so satisfying #because dick's a character who's high-key obsessed with failure and with failing loved ones #and he very much /is/ failing tim at the start of the story in that he's not being the person tim needs him to be #but that's okay!! he can fail and it's okay!! because he does care and his heart is in the right place and he comes through in the end #so at the end of rr 12 he saves tim which is what tim needs #and tim tells him that he did everything perfectly which is what dick needs to hear #just like in resurrection when dick says all the wrong things first before he figures out the right thing to do #and - negativity alert but - i just find these sorts of stories so much more satisfying than the way taylor writes dick nowadays #where he's just chipperly incapable of any meaningful failure and wanders around being effortlessly perfect all the time #older comics let characters be bad at things and screw up and not say the right thing sometimes #and it makes the triumphant moments like the hug at the end of resurrection or the catch at the end of rr12 hit so much harder #and it's also!!!! thematic!!!! because it mimics the tension of the fall and then the catch!!!!#and dick and tim had lots of good stories like this that balanced both the tension and the love #and i really miss that for them #i feel like so much of this dawn-of-the-dcu stuff involves squashing dick into a very boring stepford-smiley figure #but like... i didn't get attached to dick because i wanted him to be a perfect plastic saint incapable of failure #i like him because he's relatable and tries hard and fails sometimes and keeps trying anyway #and the catches that he /does/ make are more important than the ones he misses <3

2K notes · View notes

rex3o · 2 months ago

Text

Doting wife

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Being the emperors wife was something that you would have not expected to be in the position of. Many would think being the emperors wife, would bring in love, happiness and luxury. Yet your husband would be nothing of the sorts, yes you heard of his reputation. A cold and ruthless emperor with a thriving empire, you entered his palace with big hopes and determination of changing him to be a loving husband.

oh how wrong you was.

After 4 years of marriage and a heir to his throne, he was as cold and ruthless the day you met him. Every interaction was short or met with silence. You put effort in your duties as his wife and empress to the empire to impress him. Yet nothing. You wore his favourite colour. Nothing. You did your make up differently. Nothing. You tried talking to him about things he was interested... and nothing. He was not phased. During the birth of your son, he was nowhere to be seen only to come in the following morning and smile at the sight of his son. yet when his red eyes met yours his smile dropped.

So here you sat in the royal gardens watching your three year old son chase a butterfly with his toy sword. Letting your mind wander, you had tried everything.. what was you not doing that he hasn't even dropped a single thought on you. Your lady in waiting looked at you a bit confused as you continued to stare hardly at nothing.

"Your majesty" she says softly yet anxiously, as she looks at you while drifting her eyes to whatever thing you was staring at.

"hmm" you say.

"are you uh.. quite alright you seem to be staring at.." as she is lost for words.

You snap out of your thoughts and look at her, your eyes widening a little.

"oh apologises, I seemed to have lost myself in thought."

She exhales as she smiles at you.

"oh that is fine.. may I ask about what?"

"oh nothing.. you know.. thoughts." you say not really wanting to indulge on the countless attempts of getting your husband to even give a glance at you.

Your eyes land back on your son as you find him aggressively hitting the dead bug on the ground. Definitely his father's son. You thought. You got up from your seat as you approached your son to stop his insane antics and bring him back inside. The boy huffs and drops his toy sword and runs back inside as you followed after him, walking back inside the palace you spot Sukuna walking with several of his advisors, as they head somewhere. You do not let your eyes linger for long as you follow after where your son had ran off.

After several hours of chasing your son around the palace, you managed to catch him and get him ready for dinner. As you both head inside the dining hall, he runs and takes his space next to his father. Sukuna sat on his seat already busying himself with the food. You sit down and remain silent. How odd. You're never quiet at dinner. You ate your food only glancing at your son to see if he is eating like a proper boy and not gobbling his food like a damn animal.

Dinner goes swiftly, without a word as Sukuna finishes, you take your leave. He gives a quick glance at your figure.

The days went on, this new personality of yours. Quiet, not chatty as before. The little interactions of yours, well one sided conversations, with Sukuna went from infrequent to zero. He noticed this. As you slowly put your effort and interest into other things besides him. Sukuna would find himself at least hoping for a glance of you around the palace. Hell he would be even be satisfied by you uttering a single word at the dinner table. But no.

There you three was again at the table, silence except for your son's occasional ramble of what he did today to his father.

Sukuna bore his eyes onto you, as his son's yapping went from one ear to another. Gripping onto his utensils as he waits for your eyes to meet his, for you to utter something. Yet you sat on the opposite end eating your food finding the chandelier to be the most interesting thing you came across the whole day.

"Have we lost our manners suddenly." he blurts out annoyed.

You stop chewing as you slowly look at your husband, as if he grew a pair of wings and started to fly.

"pardon..." was the only thing you could conjure up.

"I am your husband, you are supposed to greet me, ask me how my day is.. have you forgotten your role wife?" he demands. Yet your clueless face irked him more.

".. uh- how was your day?" you ask, not knowing if you should or not. Sukuna grunts in response.

"that's more like it." Is all he says, as you remain confused for the remainder of the dinner.

Your interaction with Sukuna stuck out like sore thumb to you for the next couple of days. You did not know what to make of it. You stood silent, as the advisor chattered along on what to do for the next royal event. The advisor realising that your mind was on something else he quietened down waiting for you to speak. As you came back to reality, you looked at him confused.

"w-we can do this on another day empress if your feeling under the weather." he says anxiously. You just barked out a laugh.

"I am good, something had caught my attention, please continue." You say, as he goes continues. The door to the private meeting room swings open as Sukuna enters and makes his way next to you. The advisor taken aback looks at you if he should continue.

"Continue" Sukuna commands as the man starts his nervous ramble now more directed to Sukuna for the royal event. The meeting ends, the advisor leaves defeated as he didn't get much answers from the both of you.

This new behaviour of his continued, every day at least at one point of your day, he makes himself known and sit with you till he seems fit. He doesn't say anything some days but others he would demand you to say something, whatever it was you was doing on that day he will involve himself. Even if it was watching your son fight an imaginary dragon. But you did not back down. Yes this was entertaining watching your husband finally put some sort of an effort. So you kept this behaviour of yours up. Almost like a silent contest on who is going to break first.

As the day of the royal event dawned, you spoke to your guests, in your beautiful gown. Your presence captured everyone's attention.. even your husband. As a duke kindly asked for your hand for a dance. You took his request, as you both waltzed on the ballroom floor. As he lets you go for you to spin, you are met back with a familiar set of arms. Your eyes met your husbands crimson eyes.

You hold back your smile, as he lead you to dance. Everyone's lingering eyes drifted away, the music blending away in the back of your mind, as you both danced.

"You did not wear red.." Sukuna comments. You look back up at him.

"I have worn red too many times." You retort.

"Too many times.. even for your husband?"

All you did was shrug your shoulders, as his hand your waist tightens.

"You used to gab my ears off woman.. now your as silent as a mouse." He comments.

"And..?"

"Has my efforts not been enough.." He quietly says in your ear.

"You think, a couple weeks of you spending some time with me, making me question you is effort" you say back in disbelief.

"It is something woman" he says slightly annoyed.

You look at him, as your smile slowly fades.

"I spent the last four years, catering to your needs, acting as a good wife to you.. yet the moment I stop you suddenly remember you have a wife and start acting like somewhat of a companion-"

"companion" he says offended. "I have treated you like a husband should, I spent time with you, I spoke to you, I provided you with a palace and riches."

"oh thank you for doing the bare minimum." as you push yourself away from him and composing yourself as you walked away from the ballroom floor. Sukuna stands there as he walks off the opposite direction not wanting to make a scene in front of his guests clearly annoyed.

While the event progresses, as all he could think about was you, what you said. He watched your every move, every word you uttered to your guests, every sip you took from your glass, every hand movement. He took note of it. He did not care if people realised he was staring you down. He couldn't wrap his head around how you could even think of speaking to him like that.

Was what he did not enough? Before you would swoon if he even said a word to you. Now you did not care. You would chatter his ear off about things you assumed he would be interested in. Now silence. All your efforts now gone.

What was he not doing to get you back to being his doting little wife.

part 2

big FAT authors note : I cannot lie guys I am not fit for long fics but yk what I can do... make one shots so please enjoy what my mind could conjure up for 15 minutes after having 3 cups of chai. Also I may have a thing for historical au I dunno. my head is NOT working. so pls if there is any mistakes do LMK!

- R

4K notes · View notes

dxckgrxsonx · 1 month ago

Text

Between his Teeth

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 2.1k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - Biting Biting BITING!! - Lil mention of choking - Unprotected Sex - Multiple Orgasms - (F) Receiving Oral - Possessive!Jason - Overstimulation - Swearing - Crying - Dirty Talk - Fluff at the End :) Notes: Happy New Year! it’s been awhile since i've posted anything of a decent length so um?? hi?? Not sure how im feeling about the quality of this but inspiration struck and here we are! i hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

Here's the thing: there are nights in Gotham where patrol slows down. It's not a regular occurrence, something more akin to an irregularity really–but it happens. And when it does you're faced with an interesting quirk, a personality trait most would consider concerning.

Or dangerous.

Jason Todd gets bored.

His baseline as standard is marked unnatural. The death of a child recognised and reversed. Murdered soul poured back into what feels like a brand new unmarked body–everything once recognizable to him lost by a pool of Lazarus green. A pool on some nights he can still taste like bile in the back of his throat.

Patrol slows down and Jason finds himself molar deep in something terrifyingly restless.

Sometimes, the fight never materialises and Jason, who's been fighting across two different lifetimes, doesn't quite know how to react in the face of it. There's always been a cathartic edge to combat, a catch and release that leaves him breathless and exhilarated all at once. Adrenaline is one hell of a defence mechanism, swells right up to the top of his head, and if there's no decompression at the end of it his skin buzzes, eyes glowing bright and haloed in Lazarus green.

And so when patrol gets slow, Jason seeks out the brilliance of release by fucking you absolutely stupid.

He’s got two stupidly talented hands and they’re touching you everywhere.

The base of your spine, the shivering curve of your waist, two fingers hooked into your smart mouth to wrench every little sound out of your chest. His cock is thick and heavy and every thrust into your spasming cunt burns like he’s tearing you open.

“Fucking Christ–” A heaving, half delirious whine vibrates against his fingers like a phantom echo of your voice and Jason grins when your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He grins because taking you to pieces like this is the absolute best, most unbelievably satisfying way to burn through the frightening magnitude of energy stirring in his veins. “Ugh shit! Are you coming again? You greedy little thing.”

He can feel you squeezing at his cock, your pussy clenched up so tight it’s almost like fucking his own goddamn fist.

Jason pulls his fingers from your mouth–the digits now dripping in spit–and curls them oh so sweetly around your throat. He tightens his grip, forces you to work for your breath and the drag of air under his palm forces blood to swell up to Jason's head.

He watches you carefully, catalogues the curve of your mouth, the way your eyes roll into the back of your skull, the bliss and trust you tuck under his skin.

Fingers flex tighter and your mouth moves but instead of words, he gets a low, drawn out moan.

“Of course you are. You just can’t help it, can you?” He pulls his hand up and away from your throat, grabs firmly at your chin, and you jolt like a live wire, eyelids fluttering, thighs shaking horribly around his hips. Pressing forwards, Jason grunts at how wet you are, the base of his cock ringed in your creamy arousal. “You can take it though. You will take it. Just for me, because you’re such a good girl.”

A broken noise drags up your throat and Jason gets the flaring urge to have something–fucking anything–between his teeth.

It's not the first time he's looked at you and clamped his jaw around the desire to mark you. The possessive flicker igniting something of near biblical proportion in his veins. You're something wonderful. A person he adores beyond measure.

There's times you look at him like he's everything and it makes him feel brand new, born into a universe where home is nothing but you and your two hands that have never once hurt him.

He thinks the urge comes from that, comes from the desperation of wanting to broadcast you as his, of never wanting to be apart.

Your head tips back, throat bare, and Jason doesn’t hesitate–not even for one single second–a feral sort of thing bubbling up from the bottom of his spine.

He bites you.

He bites you so hard your vision collapses in on itself, existence bursting into a kaleidoscope of colour.

Jason sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin above your pulse point and you choke as if he’s slipped a knife underneath your rib to steal your breath. You choke and you clench up so tight around his cock he can’t fucking move.

Your knees draw up in a desperate attempt to wedge between you, back arching into the bed. You twist your hips against his weight and you grab at his shoulders, his hair, nails scratching a long line down his back, but Jason simply renders you immobile, reminds you he’s buried balls deep in your pussy and has no intention of being anywhere else.

It’s not quite pain, but it’s a blunt sort of thing at the very edge of the scale and blood rushes up under your skin to greet each indent left behind. The sting of it detonates something permanent in your psyche, life unmoored between his teeth.

Jason pulls back and he licks at his teeth, there’s no blood, but the action alone makes you swelter nonetheless. You think it might be the look on his face, the flicker of something promising devastation in his eyes.

“Fuck you.” It’s your own voice, breathless, trapped between aggravation and arousal. “How am I supposed to cover that up?”

Jason drags his fingers down to your cunt and rubs at your fat, swollen clit. Every thought fractures apart in your mouth, vowels and consonants splintering into pieces that dissolve on your tongue. You know that’s what he wanted. You don’t care.

“You’re mine.” Jason says, like that in itself is an explanation. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

The bite mark on your throat looks brutal even to his own eyes. A perfect match to every tooth in his mouth. Your skin is starting to puff up a little, irritation blossoming into a wicked bruise. Jason hums–mostly to himself–and fucks into you hard enough that there’s an obscene squelch of your pussy every time he bottoms out.

You’re perfect. You’re his. He wants you to come again.

“I can’t. Ah fuck! Not again–” The pitch of your voice climbs when his pace fails to falter, sticky fingers still strumming at your clit. He can feel it throbbing despite you coming twice already, and he wonders how many he can get out of you this time. “Jason–I don’t think…I can’t.”

“That’s it, empty that pretty little head of yours. You don’t need to think, y’just need to keep squeezing that sweet cunt around my cock, yeah? You’re so wet for me, and you know what that means?”

A sobs works free from your mouth, thighs clenching tight around his strong hips, each thrust into your peach flesh cunt makes Jason feel like he’s bursting out of his own skin. You close your eyes in the face of pure, overwhelming pleasure and he can see how wet your lashes are.

“Ugh–no don’t–” A whimper hooks into the back of your throat. “Don’t fucking say it.”

Jason grins, half wicked, even though he knows you can’t see it, “It means you like this, little bird. You might complain and try to get away, but your pretty little pussy can’t lie to me.” Your face screws up. Jason fucks you harder, his thick thighs smacking against your ass. He pauses his movements on your clit and listens to the pitch of your whine wobble in disappointment. “You want to come again, don’t you? Hm. No. You need to come again.”

“Nooo.” You try, embarrassment flustering up your neck. “I can’t. Please. S’too much.”

Your eyes blink open and Jason thinks it’s so sweet when you’re on the verge of tears whilst he’s fucking you. Your hands reach out to grab his shoulders, to search for comfort, and you cry out his name when he touches your poor, oversensitive clit. Jason licks at the mark on your throat, his tongue catching against the swell of your near broken skin and your cunt tries to force him out.

"Let me fuck your pussy, sweetheart. Don't push me out like that."

Another desperate cry when he forces your pussy to yield to his powerful thrusts and you suddenly gush around his cock. Wetness soaks his thighs and Jason huffs in amusement when he hears you heave in a strangled breath, then sob, tears streaming down your face.

You’ve never done that before.

By the time he’s finished–by the time he’s worked through the insistent pulse of pure restlessness and settled back into what he considers a post patrol, or postcoital haze–he thinks he’ll make you do that once more at least.

Jason quietly appears behind you the next afternoon as you glance in the mirror, gentle fingers probing at the huge mark splattered on your neck.

His approach is eclipsed by silence and you’re struck with the awe of how quiet he can be when he wants to. The talent and skill that must go into knowing how to plant yourself so no sound escapes your trajectory, it’s staggering, and slightly alarming.

You can easily trace the outline of Jason’s bite and there’s a heavy sort of discomfort when you touch it; the sensation of pressing on a bruise in the early stages of healing, not painful but heavy and aching, impossible to ignore.

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches upwards when your face flickers into a slight flinch, almost like he wants to smile in a self-satisfied sort of way–how typical of him to find satisfaction in something that has you labelled as owned (loved) but you meet his reflection in the mirror and settle on a half-hearted scowl.

“You’re a real dick, Todd. You know that?”

Tugging the neckline of your hoodie up, you just barely manage to cover the mark.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re not wearing pants.” Jason points out, redirecting the conversation by eyeing you appreciatively. “And I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

Memory sparks-your own desperate, fucked out voice flaring to the forefront-and you feel heat splash up your throat.

Ducking your head to avoid Jason's stare seems like a good idea, but you know with absolute certainty that he'll request you look at him regardless–he might even press a finger under your chin to tilt your head up–all because he wants to watch you fumble over your words like an idiot.

“Yeah, uh–that’s because you fucked me stupid.” He grins wolfishly at that, then his eyes flash with either an idea, or interest. Both of which are dangerous. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…don’t.”

Smoothing his hands from your waist, down to your hips, then the curve of your ass, Jason drops to his knees behind you. Your stomach swoops, the beat of your heart slipping temporarily out of rhythm. He hums thoughtfully and presses a kiss to the small of your back, then tugs your underwear to the side so one cheek is bare.

Confusion kicks up in your head, brain following one thread whilst Jason in typical fashion follows his own, “You've already eaten me out at least once today, for the love of fuck give me a break. Aren't you tired of eating me out?”

Jason positively growls.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." He grumbles, his tone nothing but a hard edge. "I'll never get tired of tasting your pretty cunt."

You figured that out already. Waking with his head between your thighs, talented tongue lapping at your swelling clit until you sigh his name so prettily, falling apart as he holds you open by sheer force. Reminded again when you settle down for lunch in the kitchen and Jason sits you on the counter so he can nose at your slit, mouth wrapping around your sensitive clit and sucking until you cry.

Sometimes he might as well be dating your pussy and not you.

You feel the warmth of his breath for a single, shining moment, "Then what the hell are you doin–"

He bites you.

On your goddamn ass cheek.

“There. Now you can’t complain because the only person who’s going to see that is me.”

Spinning around in retaliation you glance down and level Jason with a glaringly unimpressed look, “Yeah, congratulations. But you’ve failed to consider one very important thing.”

“No I haven't." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What else is there to consider?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sit down?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x reader smut #red hood smut #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #ella writes #it feels...weird posting an actual fic again #missed you all <3

1K notes · View notes