#she was pretty nice all things considered

[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving part 15

Warnings: None

Summary: You find a pretty dress in a charity shop! And who you gonna show it to? Hmmm

Word Count

ao3 link

It had been a productive day of shopping. Of course, your initial plan hadn’t actually been to buy anything; you were only supposed to go there to look at things, touch some nice textures, have a drink and something sweet, and then go home. But you hadn’t planned on the dress.

Why such a beautiful dress was stuffed in the back of an Oxfam was beyond you. It looked as though it had come from some royal princess, all expensive black satin, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a full skirt. Destiny clearly had a hand in things, as not only was it in your size, but it was also under a hundred pounds. It was still a little expensive, more than you would have considered spending on a normal dress, but there was something special about it. It was giving vintage Christian Dior- the new look. It wasn’t actually one of his gowns; of course, that would have been too lucky, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful.

“Buy it.” Katie was very certain in her opinion of the dress, “Buy it, and then get fucked in it.”

“Can’t I just wear it?”

She shrugged, “I mean if you want to be boring, sure. But a dress like that deserves an event, an occasion, you know? Something special.”

You gave it a little twirl on the hanger, watching the skirt billow, “I don’t think I have an occasion that’s good enough for a dress like this. It’s not like I’m invited to Buckingham Palace.”

Katie snorted, “Place is full of nonces and cunts anyways, why would you want to go there?”

You snorted, “Alright, fair point. If I was to go to, uh,” you couldn’t really think of a fancy event you could feasibly go to, “yeah, no, I’m not posh enough for this dress.”

Katie took the dress from you, walking away so quickly that you didn’t have time to stop her. She went straight to the counter, where she plopped it down, already taking her card out to buy it. You protested, “Kate, come on, it’s too much.”

The woman at the counter raised an eyebrow, and Kate rolled her eyes, “Don’t pay attention to her. I’m buying this. Could you find us a bag or something to put it in, please?” The woman clearly didn’t care about your little disagreement; after all, she was in customer service; no doubt she had developed the ability to ignore all sorts of shit. She just held out the card reader for Katie to tap her card on, which she did, and then went off into the back to pack the dress into a bag.

“Kate, how am I possibly supposed to repay you for this?”

Katie rolled her eyes at you, “You know that’s not the point of friendship, right? We’ve never been the type to obsess over who owes who. You bought me coffee, I bought you a dress. Who cares?”

That was how it went with her. She worked hard, and she scrimped and saved on other aspects of her life so she could spend frivolously when she liked. A wonderful trait, really; she was generous and kind, but it had always bugged you that you could never repay her generosity the same way.

Soon enough, the woman returned with an old paper Primark bag, in which she had carefully folded the dress up and put it inside. The contrast was kind of funny. Katie picked up the bag and balanced the thin paper straps on her arm, then walked out of the shop, leaving you to quickly walk after her.

It was hard to wander around the shops after that; you had something truly decadent in your bag, expensive and wonderful, and it was hard to not cradle it to your chest like a baby at every moment, terrified that if you put it down for even a second, it would be stolen. You didn’t even dare eat near it, terrified that you’d get some sort of icing or crumb on it and ruin the fabric. Katie bought you a plastic bag just so you could double bag it for safety, and then you finally allowed yourself to eat some cake.

When Katie had finally gotten on the bus home, you texted Ghost.

‘You: You still want to give me a lift?’

It didn’t take long for him to text back.

‘Ghost: Where are you?’

You took a picture of the cafe you were sitting outside and sent it to him.

‘You: (image) You know this place?’

‘Ghost: Will be there soon. ETA 15 minutes.’

He didn’t fuck about. You took a seat on a nearby concrete planter and waited.

It didn’t take long for him to turn up, fourteen minutes later, in his little black car. You could see that he wasn’t wearing his usual balaclava. Instead, he was wearing a black surgical mask and a pair of sunglasses. Subtle.

You opened the passenger side door, and were greeted by the intoxicating smell of his cologne, as well as the quiet thumping bass of house music. It sounded like a 90s rave. You took a seat, placing your bags in the footwell and pulling the door closed behind you. Then, you turned to Ghost, your eyes flicking over the dark bruises that still littered his face. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to wear a mask and sunglasses.

“Had a nice day?” He questioned.

You nodded, “Yeah, pretty decent. You been up to much?”

Ghost shrugged as he put the car into gear, and you put on your seatbelt, choosing not to pry.

The question came out regardless.

“So what did you do today?”

“Bit of this, bit of that.”

“You always so secretive?”

He snorted, “Part of the job.”

“Ah, right, SAS stuff.”

“Not interesting, really. Tell me about your day.”

You weren’t sure how interested Ghost was in the intricacies of shopping, but you regaled him with your day regardless, and he was nice enough to ask further questions about what you had for lunch and if you got anything from Boots. Considering the bizarre circumstances under which you’d met him, the conversation was strangely normal, just two people chit-chatting about a day. You kept the conversation going right up to your front door, “You have to see this dress I got. I swear, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

“You look in a mirror every day, don’t you?”

You snorted as you opened your door, “My God. Are you made of sugar?”

“You can taste me if you like.”

That made you cackle, and you dumped your bags on the counter, “Terrible.”

Your fingers trailed over the plastic bag that contained the dress, and you looked at Ghost curiously, “Want to see the dress?”

“Of course.”

Very carefully, you undid the plastic bag and then took the paper bag out, reaching in to take the dress out, the beautiful garment still on the padded hanger. You shook it out with a flourish, “Look! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“I’d have to see it on.”

You weren’t sure if that was a subtle way to get you out of your clothes, but you did want an excuse to get into the dress.

“Wait here.”

The dress was surprisingly annoying to get into. Satin didn’t have much give, so you had to wiggle to get it around your thighs, terrified that you’d pull too hard and rip the fabric. Now, you were faced with a different problem. The zip was annoying to get to, you had to twist to get it, and the damn thing was so small and delicate it was constantly slipping out of your fingers. You probably could have done it yourself, but then an interesting idea came to mind. You held the dress tight to your chest, covering your bare chest with the fabric, your back fully exposed to the air. Was your underwear visible at the very bottom of the open zipper? You hoped so.

You walked back into the living room, wearing only your knickers and a half-zipped-up dress. Ghost was in the kitchen, apparently making himself tea, seemingly very at home. “I need your help.”

He turned around slowly, tea in hand, his mask and sunglasses off, “What d’you-“ his voice faded as he took in the sight of you, and a slow smile spread over his bruised and battered face. “You need my help with that?”

You turned around, showing him your back, “I need you to zip me up.”

You felt exposed like this, your back turned to him, waiting awkwardly in the dim light of your room, unable to see what he was thinking.

Then, the quiet sound of footsteps on the carpet as he walked over to you and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt his presence behind you. His fingers brushed against your back as you felt him pull the fabric together, goosebumps prickling over your exposed skin as he slowly began to pull the zipper upwards. About halfway up, he paused to brush the hair off the nape of your neck, his fingers soft and gentle against your skin, letting your hair softly fall over your collarbone. His fingers paused there for a moment, taking a long, meandering path from the tip of your shoulder blade across to your spine and then straight down your back until he met with the zipper again.

A subtle shiver went through the length of your body. Christ. A single touch from the man, and you were ready to throw him into your bed. This was supposed to be you teasing him! The zip went up swiftly until the dress was pulled snugly around your body, with Ghost fastening the clasp at the back. You very quickly took a step forward away from him, needing to put a little space in between the two of you before you tried to jump his bones. The dress swooshed as you moved, a good distraction from the sheer desire coursing through your veins, and you decided to do a little spin, watching the fabric twirl out around you.

“How does it feel?” Ghost asked.

It felt like you wanted to ride him, but you didn’t verbalise that. Instead, you just smiled and brushed the fabric out, “Fancy. Might need a petticoat to really poof out the skirt, though.”

When you looked at Ghost, you could see how large his pupils were, like a cat about to pounce, his jaw tense. He looked agitated. You smiled at him, swishing the dress side to side, “What do you think?”

Ghost cleared his throat, “Think you need someplace to wear it.”

You sighed, “Well yeah, but I don’t have anywhere that calls for a dress like this.”

“I might.”

That got a raised brow from you, and you looked at him curiously, “Really? I can’t see you in a suit.”

The corners of his lips pulled up in a slight smile, “I’ve been known to wear one. When duty calls.”

“Duty calls for you to wear a suit?”

“Soldiers have dos. Occasionally.”

You tilted your head at him, “You inviting me to a fancy soldiers party as your date?”

Ghost reached out for your hand, placing his other hand on top of it, a silent, solemn promise, “The next time we have a proper mess dinner, I want you on my arm. In this dress.”

It was impossible not to smile at that, and you gave him a little mock curtsy, “I’d be delighted to.”

“So,” Ghost began, gently pulling on your hands to bring you closer to him, “You need help getting out of this dress?”

You put your hand out to keep some space between you, your fingers coming into contact with his chest. Even though there was the thick material of his black jumper between your hands and his skin, it was thrilling. Yet, you could see a slight tautness in Ghost’s jaw, a slight furrowing of his brows. Something was wrong.

“You alright?”

Ghost cleared his throat and took a step back from you, dropping your hand, “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I just, I should get going.”

He’d been trying to get you out of your dress, but now it seemed like he was trying to flee. You couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong. He turned away from you to go to the kitchen to grab his mask and sunglasses from where he’d dumped them on the counter, covering his face up once again. He made a gesture for you to turn around when he returned to the living room, and you did so, turning your back to him. This time, he avoided touching your bare skin as he undid the clasp and pulled the zip halfway down, far enough down where you could do the rest easily.

You turned around to him, trying to scan him for any sort of upset, but it was impossible to read anything under the sunglasses and mask, probably by design. He reached out to touch your cheek, his fingers softly grazing against your skin, before he abruptly turned and left.

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite Books I Read in 2024

I read a ton of good novels last year- 32 in all (and uh, 82 manga/graphic novels, but we’ll examine that in another post). Here’s a link to my Goodreads year in books (the manga is at the beginning, the novels start with Red, White & Royal Blue) and my storygraph wrap up.  

I got to have fun reading some classics like The Odyssey and The Wizard of Oz, but I also read a lot of notable newer books! Let's take a look!

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

The story follows Silas, a trans guy in an alternate 1883 where violet-eyed people have the power to talk to spirits. If someone is perceived as a man by society, this power is treated as useful. But for anyone society perceives as a woman, it's a different story. There's this idea that the power to speak to the dead causes women to "go mad". Silas is diagnosed with this "sickness" and gets thrown in a horrible sanatorium that forces patients to become obedient wives. But this school has some dark things going on under the surface, and Silas might not even make it out of this alive...

This is a horror that keeps you on the edge of your seat the whole way though. The setting is vivid and creative, the characters who suffer under the weight of oppression are varied and complex, and the protagonist is easy to root for. It's very spooky, pretty relentless, pretty gory and pretty twisty. It's very hard to figure out who you can actually trust! It's also a fascinating exploration of transphobia and misogyny. It obviously draws on real things women and trans people struggled with in the 1800s (accusations of having "hysteria" and other "illnesses" just for existing) but also talks about ableism too, as the main character is autistic. It really makes you consider how terrifying and isolating it would be to live in a time with so few resources and such limited knowledge, but of course, this still persists in a lot of places today.

 It's not all horror though, there is some catharsis and nice moments of Silas finding solace and support in other trans people and it leads to some really touching scenes and relationships. There's also satisfaction in seeing marginalized people banding together and doing all they can to fight back.

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries and Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett

This fantasy series follows Emily, a professor and dedicated researcher of the mysterious and often dangerous fae. Emily is out to make an encyclopedia of fae lore, and she has no interest in socializing with others when there's faeries to find. Unfortunately for her, her scholarly rival, Wendell, show up and decides to be all insufferably social and charming and interested in her. He might secretly be a faerie though, and Emily is interested in that, so, ugh, maybe she has to put up with him.

 These books are a ton of fun. It's a cozy adventure the creatively draws on some cool fae lore. It's biggest charm is our protagonist, who is wonderfully grumpy and stubborn and clever and only wants to bury herself in researching this thing she likes She's the kind of person who puts footnotes in their own journal, and it's delightful.

Even when she starts catching feelings for Wendell, her research is always her number one priority. And Wendell, who is very obviously smitten with her the second he appears, is okay with that! In fact, her stubbornness and fearless, unshakeable commitment to her research is pretty much exactly why Wendell is so down bad for her, which makes him a really relatable love interest. He's obnoxious in a genuinely charming way and the teasing banter between Wendell and Emily is very entertaining.

Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura

Kokoro has been unable to go outside her house ever since she dropped out of school due to horrible bullying. One day, her mirror glows, and she enters it to find herself in a castle with six other students. A little girl in a wolf mask tells all of them that there's a room in the castle that can grant one single wish, but only for one person, so whoever finds the room first gets the wish. They'll have an opportunity to hang out in the castle every day until the deadline, after which the castle will disappear. But as the kids get to know each other, things get more complicated.

This is such a lovely, healing story I'm glad I finally got around to reading it. While the story goes into the causes behind the epidemic of hikikomori and futoku in Japanese students, it's also a universally relatable story about the ways bullying, grief and trauma can affect a child and lead to severe anxiety. Kokoro's slow journey of recovery is touching and feels realistic, despite the fantastical elements. The book shows how brave and hard it is to take these small steps, and how Kokoro struggles to even talk about what happened. The focus of the book is the connections the kids make with each other. It explores the secrets they carry, how they accidentally hurt each other, but also how they ultimately are able to empathize with and support each other. Each character is interesting and achingly human in their own right. The whimsical fairy tale elements of the story complement the themes well, and the book delivers some really solid plot twists that serve to make its themes stronger too.

One thing to warn for is we learn that a fourteen year old girl has entered a relationship with a man in his 20s. This isn't shown to be healthy or good for her though, and the reason she does this is heartbreaking. There's also some (non graphic) attempted SA. With that in mind, this is just a really cool tale, and I full recommend it!

First Light by Liz Kerin

This is the second part of a duology that began with Night’s Edge, which I recommended last year, and honestly, this book is even better than the first one, which was already pretty great. The book continues to use vampirism to explore the cycle of abuse effectively. This time, Mia is seeking vengeance on her mother's abusive ex-boyfriend, who was responsible for turning her Mom into a vampire. But when she finds the ex-boyfriend and infiltrates his little cult (with her kinda-girlfriend, who actually genuinely wants to join), she gets manipulated by him the way her mother did, her trauma and past making it easy to fall into a cycle that's familiar. She starts to understand her mother, and vampires in general, more than she ever thought she would. It's just a really interesting take on vampires, and this one actually addressed some of the thing I thought were a little iffy in the first book. It's dark, but there's also a lot of catharsis.

I think these books are easily among the top of my list of favorite vampire media. Content warning for abuse, and the vampire bites having a hint of a metaphor for sexual violence like they often do.

Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll

 Bright Young Women follows a young woman in the aftermath of a serial killer breaking into her sorority and killing several of her friends. The media and police are all too willing to question her testimony and distort the details to fit their narrative. Another woman suspects her girlfriend was murdered by the same killer, and they team up to find the truth.

Bright Young Women is a page-turner, and I honestly didn't realize it was so heavily based on the Ted Bundy murders until I read the reviews, because I didn't know much about him (or most real life serial killers, a fact which I am very okay with). But the book is here to dunk on Ted Bundy and the ways his "intelligence and charisma" were greatly exaggerated by the media and even the judge at his actual trial, rage about the ways the victims stories are erased in favor of the killers who are glamorized and fawned over, point out the ways the police constantly fail victims, and to set the record straight to those who idolize serial killers.

The story centers the survivors and victims, talking about their lives and triumphs and the goals they were working toward and what could have been. It's depressing, but it also shines the light on the bravery of the women whose testimonies got the killer convicted even when the rest of the world was dismissive of them.

This book is a really tough read, and obviously there's a huge content warning for sexual violence, the graphic aftermath of horrific deaths...the method of one rape and murder actually really disturbed me (mentioned in the aftermath, the book never shows the actual acts), it was so gross and horrible (and unfortunately, happened in real life). Read with caution. But it's a book that will definitely stick with me for a while.

The Rise of Kyoshi and the Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee

I never got around to the Kyoshi novels because there's been a lot of mediocre Avatar the Last Airbender spin-off media...but I should not have hesitated, because these were actually really good. They follow the life of Kyoshi, the famously badass Earth Kingdom Avatar, and shows how she became how she is.

Yee does a great job capturing the world of Avatar, while also expanding on it in interesting ways. I really liked a lot of the little details that deepened the world--for instance, it's mentioned that Firebenders shave their heads when they lose an Agni Kai because of the disgrace, which gives context to Zuko's initial hairstyle and actually makes the fact he actively kept his hair from growing back for three years extremely sad, since it implies he thought he would only be worthy of that once his father approved of him again. It was something I think Yee definitely came up with himself, but it made a lot of sense with the show in a way that felt natural.

The novels were definitely darker than the show, but not in a Netflix Avatar let's-watch-a-bunch-of-people-we-don't-care-about-burn-to-death way, but in a way that felt natural to Kyoshi's circumstances. I found I usually did care a lot when a character died because they were often likeable. I found the death of one character in particular near the end of book one genuinely heartbreaking.

The books did a good job explaining why Kyoshi became more severe later on, and in how she wrestles with how far she can go with her role as the Avatar, what justice is, and whether killing people solves anything. The second book was not quite as good as the first, with its decision to switch out the cast of the characters for entirely new people and just being more meandering in general, but it was still a good read. I definitely rec if you're an Avatar fan, odds are you'll really enjoy them!

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

In the country of Concordia, each province has one heir who has a "Blessing"--basically a unique magic power. Ganymedes (a.k.a Dee)'s dad cheated on his wife a bunch, and one of the children from those affairs must have inherited the Blessing rather than Dee. To keep this a secret, Dee's dad makes him pretend to have a Blessing. Now Dee has to go on a voyage with the other Blessed and, sick of the charade, he's decided he's going to make them all hate him so he gets kicked out of the group. But that plan is extremely interrupted when his shipmates start getting murdered one by one.

Voyage of Damned is just a really good time. A queer murder mystery romp with a ton of suspicious and varied characters vying for power, a fun lead with a distinctive voice, tragic romance, cute friendships, and even some touching exploration of prejudice, suicidal ideation and self loathing. It was just extremely readable and I was entertained the whole way though, but it also made me feel things sometimes. It also delivered a ton of solid plot twists, including a big and satisfying one that made me want to go back and read through a bunch of scenes knowing the truth (and I did).

Dee and his distinctive glib narration probably won't be for everyone but I liked him and vibed with him. He goes through a lot, including finding out his boyfriend he'd been separated from for five years is now engaged to a girl and acting super cold to him. The tension between Dee and Ravi and how it affects all his relationships is a real emotional hook, and his banter and dynamics with the people he likes (or even some people he doesn't) are generally fun to read. If all I've said sounds cool to you, give it a try, you might like it!

Bonus Rec: Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Shesheshen is a blob monster who dines on the humans (mostly those who try to kill her). She can look human with some effort, and go into town to feed sometimes. But the she falls in love with a kind woman named Homily. This clearly means she needs to do the proper romantic thing and lay some eggs in Homily so their little monster kids can be born by devouring Homily for the inside out. Wait, humans aren't into that? That's awkward. And despite her biological impulse she doesn't really want Homily to die? Even more awkward. Oh, and Homily's family are monster hunters and it turns out that was Homily's brother Shesheshen ate a while back? Super mega awkward. What's a monster to do...

 I'm a lover of actually monstrous monster women, so I was hyped for this one, especially with the great cover by @jmfenner91! While it disappointed me in some areas, it was still fun and heartwarming enough I'd recommend it.

Our monster lady is a great character, and her unique point of view where she's nonchalant, cynical and often hilariously baffled by humans is a joy to read. Her personality, her super gross biology, and how she sees the world...she's so charming and her romance with Homily is very cute. I also really like that the book focused on healing from abuse and finding a way to move forward with each other's support. I also liked the romantic climax, and the discussion of finding kissing weird, because that made me feel seen.

There were quite a few things that kept it from being a five star review in my heart though--Sheshesen is completely disconnected from people, has just spent her life alone in her cave, but she knows what an abuser is and exactly how abusive people operate in a weirdly modern way. Abusers are also only portrayed one way: openly cruel and evil with zero sympathetic qualities to every single person they interact with. There is no cycle of abuse with these people, they never act nice to to draw their victims back in, we don't see more subtle, manipulative emotional abuse, almost no claims of caring about people. Obviously cartoonishly abusive rich people exist in real life, and I don't necessarily need abusers to be humanized. Still...it just felt like the nuance of most real life abuse was being ignored. And because these people were so one dimensional, it was pretty tedious to spend SO much time with them.

Still, the book was very monstrously sweet, and it was overall a good read. I wish it could have been a little more, but what we got was pretty nice.

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for Completed Fics 70K+ Words

13 fics here in all! 8 of them are even above 100K! That's some impressive dedication.

All of these fics will be in my Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2024 Collection, and if you like that, please consider checking out my other collections, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2022, and Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics - Misc. Years.

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Open My Eyes by @buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was. (Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.) (But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.) “And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?” (Adrien has some things to find out.)

If you want to see Adrien's response to finding out - well, everything - then this might be the fic for you! He's breaking down pretty badly even with just being an orphan now, so finding out all the awful truths? It's a lot. If you want to see some major emotional reactions and blow-ups, this is the fic for you! Though of course Adrien's put back together at the end as well, buggachat isn't the sort to just leave Adrien to flail without support for long or to have Adrien's and Marinette's relationship remain super strained.

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The Course of True Love by @nedjsmlfavs

Dark Cupid haunts Marinette. Do the events of that fateful day mean that Adrien isn’t her True Love? With a little help from Chat Noir - who has absolutely no personal stakes in this matter - she’s sure to find out. She’ll also learn the unfortunate truth: the course of true love never did run smooth.

So this is adorable, there's some nice Ladrien dating in here! Though also some angst, Chat Blanc still takes place in this storyline, as does a Hawkmoth takedown, and all the angst and trauma that goes with those things. But with Marinette and Adrien together, the two of them can handle anything.

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Finding A Way by @uptoolateart

Collège is nearly over! And what better way to celebrate than a class trip to Costa Rica? But with only a month left to tell Adrien she loves him, Marinette is feeling the pressure. Then – an accident at sea leaves them stranded together on a tropical island…alone. Or are they? Because those footprints in the sand don’t resemble any bird they’ve seen before. And what’s that roaring sound coming from the jungle? ‘Adrien…where ARE we??’ ***** A Jurassic Park / Camp Cretaceous AU that’s been kicking around in my head for over a year

I love the sense of danger permeating this fic, it really feels like Adrien and Marinette are stranded on Jurassic Park (well it's called something else in order to integrate it better into the ML universe, but it operates like Jurassic Park). They're making the best of it though, doing their best to survive - and along the way, getting closer together.

I like that it's not JUST them though, Gabriel and Nathalie find out where they ended up pretty early on and go to rescue them, with Alya and Nino stowing away. It was cool to see that side of things as well.

Oh yeah, this fic is rated M for violence and gore. It's because dinosaurs eat people alive and leave their body parts everywhere. If you can handle the Jurassic Park movie (or presumably the book the movie was based on, but I haven't read that), then you should be just fine.

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Symbiotic Whiskers by B1ackout

Adrien Agreste aka Cat Noir was given the cat ring miraculous to help Ladybug in protecting Paris. But something had found him first, a silent companion that granted him strength and power he never knew existed. Bonded with a symbiote, Cat Noir faces Paris alongside Ladybug without even knowing that someone left a magical ring in his room. (Canon Divergence)

This is a phenomenal fic that deserves more attention. It's kind of funny how he just goes "hey I've got superpowers, she says that the thing we have that gives superpowers is called the Black Cat Miraculous and that the being that gives them is called a kwami, obviously that must be what I have!" though that gets stretched more and more as Adrien's experiences with the symbiote contradict what he's heard about how kwamis work, and Tikki gets increasingly worried about "Plagg's" weird behavior. It's a dark, somewhat brutal fic (people die permanently, and they're not always villains), and it's absolutely worth a read, this is an excellent crossover!

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Perfectly Platonic (Unless...) by @frostedpuffs

After accidentally revealing their identities in less than ideal circumstances, Adrien and Marinette must navigate their newfound relationship as both partners and friends. Becoming best friends was a quick process, but when romantic feelings begin to bleed into what's supposed to be a platonic connection, their friendship starts to change in more ways than one. Surely it can't be that hard to hide their feelings from their best friend? (A post-reveal, pre-relationship fic full of romantic crushes, best friend shenanigans, and a whole lot of dumbassery.)

If you just want a straight-up romance slowburn with these two just somehow being convinced their relationship is platonic (or that the other person wants it to be platonic at least), you'll find little better to scratch that itch than "Perfectly Platonic (Unless...)". It's a little smutty and definitely earns its M rating because of that. If you want mutual pining, there's a ton of that here!

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Dreaming Wide Awake by @uptoolateart

Gabriel died a hero. He sacrificed himself in the final battle against Monarch. Or so Adrien's been told. At least he has his mother there to help him through the grief. So what is this niggling feeling that this isn't how the story was meant to go? And why does he keep having flashes of another world that lies just beneath their own? --------- A follow-up to the Season 5 finale because I am inexpressibly disappointed by what happened in Re-Creation.

So if you wanted an exploration of what could happen post-season 5 and a fix-it for that season's finale, I highly recommend checking out this fic. I love how it explores Adrien's deteriorating mental state over time, how much he's struggling with what he's heard about his father and reconciling that with the abuse he's gone through at the man's hands. And then there's "Cerise" showing up, who rubs him the wrong way for reasons he can't fully lexplain, even to himself...

Pay attention to the title, it's not just there for flavor, it means something.

This fic is rated Mature, but I have no clue why. There's no sexual content and there's pretty minor amounts of violence or gore. I guess Adrien's not in the best place mentally, but it's nothing worthy of an M rating.

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Boulangerella by @aidanchaser

Once upon a time, magic was wild. The two princes of the kingdom have been tasked with choosing their brides by the end of their 21st birthday celebrations. Crown Prince Adrien Agreste will have to choose between a woman who can protect his kingdom, a woman offering the power to wake his sleeping mother, and the woman he has loved and admired for the past year. Then there's also the seamstress that he is suddenly falling for. By the time he realizes he doesn't have the power to choose at all, it may be too late.

I love a good fairy tale AU, and this is no exception. Aidanchaser started writing it before Season 5 came out, so it's wrong about some things. Most notably, Felix's posthumous father was a good and decent person here, and one of the twin rings is Felix's Amok while the other one is Adrien's Amok, instead of both of them being Adrien's Amok.

This was a well-crafted tale, with kwamis operating as Fae: they can give power, but only if the wielder gives something up to pay for it. For temporary usage of their power, it can be something small and innocuous, such as giving Plagg cheese in exchange for his help. More expansive uses of their power requires greater sacrifices however, even sacrificing more nebulous things such as memories or hope.

The kingdom's currently being terrorized by this unknown villain, Hawk Moth, as in the show. Ladybug and Chat Noir emerge to battle him, but for some reason (*cough, cough*), King Gabriel isn't fond of the superheroes and wants them captured.

Gabriel isn't the only threat out there, Lila's skulking around, hinting that she knows how to wake up Emilie from her mysterious illness, if only Adrien marries her. And she's not about to take no for an answer.

If you've been wanting a fairy tale/fantasy Miraculous AU, I recommend giving Boulangerella a shot!

---

If I hold you too close by @bbutterflies

Paris didn’t come to a screeching halt for akumas anymore. They were so commonplace, so frequent, no one stopped their lives unless they were in danger. They trusted the heroes to fix everything if something did go wrong, save them if they got hurt. Adrien was still fighting the urge to find Plagg and go running into battle. Plagg wasn’t here, though. --- Post-season 5 where Adrien got sent to London sooner and gave up his Miraculous to keep Paris safe.

If you know this author, then you've probably already guessed that this is an Adrino fic (seriously if you like Adrino, check out bbutterflies fics, though honestly if you ARE an Adrino fan, you probably already have).

So in this scenario, Adrien was sent to London and didn't get to return, so he gave Plagg the ring so he could find another Holder. In this case, Nino. After a few years, once he's an adult, Adrien manages to come back from London, but he's in ROUGH shape. He drinks a lot, he has a reputation for partying hard and causing disruptions, and is really depressed and hates himself, and hates Felinoir (Nino's Black Cat form) even more, for having what he lost.

But even while Adrien's pushing everyone away to protect himself, his old friends refuse to give up on him, even though he's given up on himself.

While Adrien's problems are the primary focus of the fic, they're not the entire focus. Nino gets a POV, and he has personal issues and insecurities of his own. He has trouble holding down relationships, he doesn't have a lot of close friends these days, and he's struggling to keep up in school with all the akumas he's had to fight. He and Ladybug are fine coworkers, but they aren't much more than that - they aren't friends like Chat Noir and Ladybug were.

Oh, also, Nino's a transman. That's also caused some issues in making and keeping friends.

It's a beautiful story of one person hitting rock-bottom and gradually being pulled back out of it again, until they can stand on their own and push themselves up the rest of the way, and of a friend who discovers their childhood best friend (and crush) has changed enormously since they last saw them, and not in good ways - only to find that their friend is, at their core, still there. They just need help seeing it themselves.

---

A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

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Made Miracles series by InkyIbis

A rewrite of Miraculous Ladybug (specifically with the miraculouses lore) with endgame Adrino! It mostly builds off the beginning canon and loosely off the later seasons with a lot more consequences than what the show has for when a magical terrorist shows up out of the blue. In that way, each book is considered like a season with the chapters being the episodes.

First fic in the series: Awaken

The previously white butterfly, now oozing black and purple as a conduit of the butterfly miraculous powers, flutters softly within the silvered-gloved hand. It sits there for a long time. "Go, my akuma," The soft sigh pushes the butterfly, the akuma, out towards the despair of a love not returned. The same ache within his chest. On a level so great that he's willing to sacrifice the city to mend it. It's okay if he's the villain for now. He'll force the miraculous of creation and destruction to be revealed, and once he gets his hands on them, none of this pain, none of his loss, will ever happen.

I put the first fic on my reclist for 2023, and now that the series is completed, I'm putting the whole thing on my reclist for 2024. If you want a rewrite of the series that gives Adrien top-billing, evens out Ladybug's and Chat Noir's power dynamic, is darker, and has Adrino as the main ship, then this series should be right up your alley.

---

To Catch A Thief by @jheqiawrites

As a newly minted agent of INTERPOL, Marinette Dupain-Cheng scores the catch of a lifetime - nabbing the infamous thief and con artist Cat Noir. However, she's the only one who knows that he let her catch him. Soon her life turned upside down by a handsome, not quite reformed, thief who says she is the only person he trusts and they have bigger fish to fry: a secret criminal organization called AKUMA. Together, they solve cases and follow the illusive whispers about a man calling himself Monarch who never leaves a trace. What all is Cat Noir hiding? Will they expose the criminal underworld to the searing light of justice? And will Marinette fall for the man behind the masks?

This fic is inspired by a tv show called "White Collar", about a criminal informant and his handler solving cases. It does not follow the plotlines of that show, however, just the basic concept. While this is a No Powers AU, so there's now superpowers, the kwamis are human, etc, characters' personalities are still pretty intact.

Anyway, it's a lot of fun! I loved seeing Adrien's and Marinette's relationship develop, and the bureau slowly growing to like and trust Adrien, to want him to be safe and happy and to help him with his problems (it helps that his problems tend to be their problems as well, AKUMA doesn't like Chat Noir much.)

---

A Breach In The Brooch by @piromina

Ladybug and Chat Noir are the heroes of Paris. Hawkmoth is Chat Noir's father. Chat Noir is aware of this. Hawkmoth is not.

So this is an interesting spin on the classic "Gabriel recruits Adrien early on to help him" plotline. Mostly because Adrien is still Chat Noir in this AND still helping Ladybug as a superhero - Gabriel has no clue about his secret identity.

Plagg, unsurprisingly, isn't thrilled about Adrien refusing to tell Ladybug what he knows about Hawkmoth's identity, and that Adrien keeps following Gabriel's orders, even when he knows they're wrong. Though he figures out before Adrien does that Adrien's compulsion to follow his father's orders isn't just a psychological thing...

I really love Plagg in this especially, he's the MVP. He knows what it's like to be compelled to do or not to do certain things, so he's good at comforting Adrien over it and at finding loopholes for him.

---

Withered Wings by @11jj11

Nino wasn’t sure if anyone had ever willingly took the akuma butterfly before him, but with his mind completely open to this apparent son of Hawk Moth he knew that he couldn’t turn him away. Not someone that was so afraid, not someone who would be left at the mercy of Hawk Moth.

This fic is amazing! Just... some absolutely stellar Adrino, with some nice Alyanette on the side, AND it's one of the best Enemies AU (well, sort of. Adrien's on Hawkmoth's side, but Nino isn't, exactly), in the fandom! I love how much we get of Nino's perspective, his determination to save this boy who's been thrown into these battles, who clearly doesn't want to hurt people but is compelled to do so, while balancing it with trying to prevent damage to anyone else as well. He has to be the one to look after Adrien, because no one else will do so.

I also love the focus Alya gets here, as Marinette's partner. She does an amazing job in the role, with every Miraculous she gets, even though she isn't a perfect wielder.

That's something else, I like the bits of worldbuilding this adds in, with people who fully embody the aspect a kwami represents being able to transform more fully. That does not mean, however, that an imperfect match is a bad thing, the kwami and wielder can still be very strong together and get along well, even if they don't perfectly align.

I adore how Nino had to balance his roles in this, helping Adrien without hurting others, even fighting back against the heroes as needed, as much as he didn't want to. And how understanding people were when they found out the full story of what was going on. It's a truly fantastic story that anyone who likes Enemies AU, Adrino, or just want to read a good Miraculous fic should check out.

I do want to warn that Gabriel and Nathalie are significantly OOC in this. Gabriel's even more abusive and colder than he is in canon, and Nathalie is WAY worse. This fic started before season 5, so it wasn't known what Nathalie's red line would be. As a result, Adrien's more downtrodden than he is in canon, since the consequences of disobedience are worse than being cut off from friends, or even being made to sit in a blank white room indefinitely.

[gravehags]

at the altar of venus - the natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: body worship babyyyy, self-consciousness, body issues, handjobs, fingering, crying, possessiveness, two fools in love and lust, two fools being gross and making each other laugh

Words: 4,251

Summary: When Natalie watches her beloved turn and turn in front of that mirror, she knows something is off. Lucky for him, she has much to say on the matter.

a/n: I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOR THIS ONE WHEN ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITES sorry guys lmao enjoy

~~~

What a day.

Natalie wiggles her nude body in Copia’s soft sheets, nuzzling into her pillow and looking across the room. Her lover is standing before the full-length mirror next to the dresser - also nude - turning his body to consider himself at different angles in the low lamplight. She watches him for a moment, watches the way his fingers card through his graying hair, loose from the grip of the day’s pomade. He runs his hand down his chest thoughtfully and comes to rest at the slight paunch of his belly. He cups the skin and his lips tug downwards into a frown.

“Amore?” he asks quietly, “Do you think I’m eh, nice looking? Handsome?”

Any other time Natalie would laugh out loud at such an absurd question but she can tell from his slumped posture that he’s feeling downtrodden and that simply won’t do.

“The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And that is not hyperbole. You’re the only man to ever turn my head.”

He sighs heavily through his nose and looks back at his reflection.

“You don’t think I’m…too old for you?”

Now it’s her turn to frown.

“My love…come here.”

He turns to look at her again and she crooks her finger and throws back the covers. Fidgeting awkwardly he ambles over and slides into bed and Natalie wastes no time in pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Shall I tell you how handsome I find you? In great detail - from tip to toe?”

He scoffs and moves to pull the covers up over his chest but she gently rests her hand on his to stop him.

“You eh…you would do that?”

Now Natalie does laugh.

“With pleasure,” she murmurs, “Let me just–” she pulls herself up and swings her leg over to straddle him, “--there we go. Let’s start here.” She rakes her fingernails through his soft, wavy hair and smiles when he shivers.

“I love your beautiful, full head of gorgeous thick hair and I love the bits of silver threaded through it most of all. I’ve told you before I’ve always had an, ah, thing for older men and well…what sort of older gentleman aficionado would I be if I didn’t love graying hair? I love the way the light catches on the silver and how it feels between my fingers when you’re uh…busy between my legs.”

He laughs softly through his nose, which is incidentally where her journey takes her next.

“And speaking of when you’re between my legs,” Natalie says, waggling her brows as she drags her fingertip down the slope of his nose, “When this beautiful, stately, elegant thing nudges at my clit…oh. Copia I’ve always loved your nose since day one but what this thing is capable of…”

Her eyes unfocus for a moment as she leans in to kiss it absentmindedly.

“You’re getting distracted, amore mio,” Copia murmurs, eyes glittering. Eyes. Those pretty, mismatched eyes and those long brown lashes…

“As always, you are too kind to me,” he chortles, reaching a hand up to stroke her hair. Sathanas, she didn’t even realize she had said that out loud. “I used to hate my eyes when I was a kid, you know? Always a reminder of the bloodline I was a part of but never really a part of…not according to Nihil anyway. Where others thought the white eye was ‘commanding’ on Secondo or ‘alluring’ on Terzo, it was always eh, ‘unsettling’ on me.”

“Hmm,” Natalie says thoughtfully, “I certainly don’t think you need them but did you ever consider contact lenses?”

“Oh, sì, sì,” he nods, “Tried them once too in my twenties but eh…something was just…off. Personally I thought I looked creepier with two green eyes.”

She leans back a little and raises a hand to cover his white eye, and then the green while tilting her head.

“Shoulda got a white contact for the green eye instead so you could go around looking like some sexy demonic husky.”

Copia bursts out in laughter, his chest shaking beneath her palms.

“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better?”

“It is! I made you laugh, didn’t I?” Natalie says with a grin, leaning down to place a slow, soft kiss on his lips that has his hands settling on her hips.

“Love these too,” she breathes when they finally separate, “Love how soft and plump they are and I especially love the little freckle right here–” she places the pad of her thumb on his full lower lip, “--God you have no idea how it drove me mad day in and day out whenever we’d work together. Driving me to distraction. All I’d ever want to do when you got close to me is…” Natalie leans forward once more and catches his lip gently between her teeth, sucking on it until she feels his cock twitch against her.

“Mmm,” she pulls off him with a wet noise that has him panting into the dimly lit room, “Is someone starting to buy into the truth that he’s the most handsome man in the abbey? Perhaps even the world?”

“Don’t push your luck, dolcezza, I’m just eh, excited to have a beautiful, soft, young thing on top of me. One who is very good with her mouth, I might add.”

“Oh, that’s too bad you still don’t believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Try harder and maybe I’ll give you a little treat, hmm?”

He chuckles and tilts his head back.

“I’ll do my best. Done with the face, then?”

“And skip your glorious little mustache and impeccably crafted sideburns? Cardinal, you know I’m a woman who pays attention to the details. To say nothing of the freckles that are scattered over your face and down–” Natalie trails a finger down his throat and taps on his clavicle, “--over your chest and shoulders? I’d kiss every single one if I thought I’d live to accomplish that.” She amuses herself for a moment by playing connect the dots with the marks until her fingertip slides over and traces the lines of his tattoo.

“You never did tell me the story with this.”

He smiles, thumbs brushing soft circles on her thighs.

“Terzo did it. I had just entered the priesthood and he came to my quarters and got me drunk and convinced–”

“Wait, when you say ‘Terzo did it’ you mean Terzo gave you the tattoo?”

“Sì,” he nods, “He knew how much I loved the Omen movies and always complained that I never did anything wild so…”

Natalie leans forward and inspects the ink.

“That looks…a lot better than anything I would have expected from Terzo.”

Copia snickers.

“His lines were surprisingly steady, but his hand not nearly strong enough. I had a professional touch it up later but that stays between us, sì?”

She gives him a salute and leans back, raking her fingernails down his chest.

“Back to the topic at hand,” she murmurs, “Unholy fuck I love your body hair. It’s so thick and soft and I love the way it scratches just right at my nipples when you’re fucking me into the mattress.”

He sucks in a breath so fast he nearly chokes.

“You’re really not holding back, are you cara mia?”

“Nope,” she confirms, watching the way the tip of his tongue slides out to wet his lips as he eyes her breasts. Briefly, her hands abandon his torso to come up and cup them, thumbing across her hardened nipples. Natalie pulls away and grabs his hands, placing them where hers once were. Greedily, he palms the flesh as her hips make little circles.

“These,” she breathes, her hands covering his, “These gorgeous, big, strong hands with these thick fingers…I can’t even count how many times I brought myself off to the thought of them.”

“O-oh?” he pants, removing one hand and bringing it up to cup her face, “With the gloves a-and everything?”

Natalie leans into his touch.

“Especially with the gloves. Copia, the way I’d fantasize about being able to feel every stitch and groove of those things when I’d picture them inside of me…” She turns her head to place a kiss to the scar tissue at the center of his palm and his thumb strokes her cheekbone. “Mmm, you got me distracted again. Where was I?”

She looks down and remembers, scooting backwards down his body to settle in between his thighs. He whines now that she’s only touchable if he sits up, too tired to make an effort. Not, however, too tired for other things, she thinks as she looks down at his hardened cock resting heavy against his belly, smearing pre on the hairs there.

“We’ll address this,” Natalie says, gesturing to his erection, “In a bit. But for now…this.”

The word is punctuated by the way she runs her hands over his slight paunch, grinning as she kneads the flesh. Copia’s shoulders twitch as if he’d like nothing more than to fold in on himself, eyes trained up somewhere over her shoulder.

“Your soft tummy is so sweet and perfect and–” Natalie makes a noise like a big cat growling, “--I just want to eat it up.”

“Clearly from its appearance I’ve eh, done enough eating for the both of us.”

Natalie frowns deeply.

“Copia,” she says, her tone deadly serious, “Since when do you have problems with a belly? I hope you don’t have problems with my belly and mine is a lot bigger than yours—“

“Amore, never!” he gasps, horrified, “You…you are perfection. You are soft and plush and-and a goddess. This–” he says, gesturing lamely to his paunch, “--is the result of old age. Old age and too much spaghetti.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why it’s hot,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My love, this little belly shows that not only have you enjoyed life, reveled in it the way Sathanas intended, but that you’ve survived. Endured. I love this belly the way I love every single line on your face. You wouldn’t be my Copia without them. I didn’t fall in love with some guy in his twenties with a waxed six-pack. Quite frankly…ew. Respectfully, beloved, I fell for the kind, smart, handsome, distinguished gentleman in his almost-fifties. Who is sort of goofy and really good with his tongue. I mean…really good.”

He laughs softly through his nose, regarding Natalie with watery eyes. His lips form the words to thank her but no voice comes out. That’s alright, though. She’s not telling him these truths for her benefit.

“Shall I continue?” she asks gently, smiling when he nods.

Her hands slide down to his thighs, where she massages the flesh.

“You know I hadn’t even seen these - like, really seen them - until our first official date? When you wore those tight, tight pants? Lord have mercy these things are thick. I’d be content to gnaw on them like a dog with a bone if you’d let me.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” he murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Natalie says with a wink, “I’d compliment your juicy ass too if I could get to it so just remind me to give it a healthy smack next time you’re standing, huh? The first time I saw you in profile in your cassock I almost passed out. Goddamn.”

He laughs and tilts his head at her.

“Ti adoro follemente,” he says, “Thank you for making this old man love himself, even if it’s just a tiny bit.”

“I’ll take a tiny bit for now, we’ll work on the positive reinforcement.”

“Oh? And what kind of positive reinforcement did you have in mind?”

Natalie ghosts her fingers along his half hard cock, wrapping them around the shaft and leaning forward to spit thickly, her saliva landing on the head. The act has Copia moaning and shifting his hips up into her touch as she strokes him back to full hardness.

“Ah, Natalia,” he sighs, half-lidded eyes watching her hand slide along the shaft, “If only you had known what I fantasized about with your hands.”

“Well go on, bello mio,” she purrs, swiping her thumb along the slit to gather the pre leaking from the head. “Tell me.”

He grunts and ruts up into her touch.

“W-we’d be in your office…working on some…some administrative thing. And I’d watch the way those clever little fingers would fly across your keyboard–ah, fuck–and I’d imagine you leaving your desk a-and settling on your knees between my legs. Lifting my cassock up and palming me through m-my trousers. S-sometimes you’d use your mouth too but…always your hands. Always those s-soft fingers wrapped around me j-just like this. I–oh, cazzo–”

His voice cuts off with a moan as Natalie spits on him once again, the wet slide of her pumping hand and his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. With her other hand she reaches down to cup his balls, gently caressing them as she continues to stroke the length of him.

“I-I’m not going to last, amore,” he rasps out, thrusting into her grip, “Just like that, bellezza mia.”

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, and I love you just as you are.”

Natalie knows the last handful of words will send him over the edge and send him they do, until he’s coming in spurts over her knuckles and gasping her name. She continues to stroke him until he has nothing left to give and when he’s spent, Natalie raises her hand to her face and fastidiously licks every drop of his spend from her fingers as he watches with his mouth hung open. When her tongue passes over her middle finger for the final time he grabs at her, eagerly hauling her up his body and slotting his lips over her mouth in a slow, decadent kiss. When Natalie finally pulls away, it’s with a smile and she nudges his nose with hers. Gently, she rolls off of him and nuzzles into his side, lazily kissing his shoulder. When he rolls onto his side to face her, she moves to do the same but he presses her back down into the mattress.

“Copia, your stamina is impressive but you literally just came I don’t expect–”

He chuckles, gently dragging the bedsheets down to expose your body.

“Your turn, dolcezza.”

“My turn–oh.”

The realization hits Natalie as the fingers of his right hand tease at the underside of her breasts and against her belly, dipping further down to cup at the wet heat of her, driving a gasp from her lips. He leans towards her to inhale deep along her neck, lips ghosting over her dark curls.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start in praising you, Natalia mia. Sweet - in both disposition and taste, tender in body and heart, beautiful in all ways. Tongue and mind as sharp as a tack and ridiculously amusing. Perfetto–” two of his fingers dip down into her labia majora and Natalie sees him smile out of the corner of her eye at how slick she is for him. “My perfect girl. Kind. Perhaps too kind and indulgent to this old man but…” his fingertips circle her clit and her hips spasm, “He will show you just how thankful he is nonetheless, sì?”

Natalie whimpers as his fingers tease at her entrance before sliding inside her knuckle deep, palm pressed flush against her clit. An echo of how she would touch herself to the thought of him not that long ago.

“I’m not wearing my gloves but eh, I hope this will suffice for now?”

Her laugh comes out breathy as he begins to fuck into her at a decadent, leisurely pace, pressing open mouthed kisses to her shoulder.

“I never dreamed at my age I’d find someone like you,” he confesses, “Like you were–like we were made for each other. Every morning and every night I thank Sathanas for bringing you to me, thank you for allowing me to worship you. Anima mia, I adore you so much I wish to devour you. To join our bodies and minds and souls together for eternity and further. I told you before that I love you so much I fear driving you off but…I think we are equally matched in our passions, sì?”

Natalie lets out a delighted sigh, spreading her legs further to better accommodate him. It’s nice like this - lazy, unhurried - and he smiles as she clenches around him.

“Perfectly matched,” she breathes, meeting the languid thrust of his fingers with the tight circling of her hips, “Copia I am yours in every way - yours to use and fuck and–ah–consume as you please. All yours. Always yours–oh fuck.”

The fervor of her words makes his breathing and his fingers quicken, pumping in and out of her with greater force.

“I would have you all night if you let me,” he growls, his breath hot in her ear, “Say you’ll let me, per favore. Please give me this gift. On my fingers, tongue, cock, it doesn’t matter. I need you amore, need to watch you come undone and help mend you back together. Please, I–”

He’s crooked his fingers inside her, pressing against that sweet little spot that makes Natalie whine and cant her hips eagerly. She can feel the tears prick the corners of her eyes and she’s breathless as she nods.

“Copia, please, please, please, need you, need all of you–oh, fuck baby that’s it, don’t stop, don’t–ah!”

Her moan is pitchy and borderline desperate as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. 

“Mine,” he growls, “Solo mio come sono tuo. La mia bellissima ragazza perfetta. Il mio cuore e la mia anima. Il mio riflesso. La mia luce e il mio buio. Per sempre. Mia scellerata benedizione, non ti merito. I love you more than anything. Anything.”

Panting, Natalie blindly reaches down to still his hand between her legs and he sobs into her shoulder. Gently, she extricates his fingers from her and brings his hand up to her face, tongue darting out to taste herself. Tears slide down his cheeks as he watches, entranced, as she sucks each finger into her mouth before dragging the muscle up the center of his palm. His eyes are wet and bright, pupils blown as she leans up and places a soft kiss to his lips. When they pull apart, she thumbs away the tears remaining on his cheeks and smiles softly at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, sniffling, “I don’t know what got into me, amore, I–”

“This was a lot,” Natalie murmurs, reaching up to push the loose strands of hair off his forehead, “But I hope you know how loved you are by me - everything about you, all of it - and that there is no one more beautiful on this planet to me than the man I see before me right now. And I’ll remind you of this again and again and again until the end of days and even further. You are so special to me, Copia. I hope that even for a little bit tonight you got to see yourself through my eyes.”

When he leans forward to place a kiss to her forehead, he’s trembling.

“C’mere,” Natalie says, drawing him into her arms as he drapes his body over her, arm around her waist. The weight of him is solid and comforting as she presses kisses to his hair, enveloping herself in the orange blossom scent of what little remains of his pomade. 

“I promised to ravish you all night,” Copia murmurs, his voice comically muffled by his lips squished against her breast. She snorts inelegantly.

“We’ve got many nights ahead of us for that, my love,” Natalie says with a smile, hand stroking along his freckled shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. But more importantly - are you alright?”

He pulls away slightly to rest his chin on her.

“I don’t think I have been for a long time,” he says quietly, “Not really, anyway. But ever since you arrived…columba mia, it’s like I have a purpose again.”

Now it’s Natalie’s turn for her eyes to get watery.

“I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. I…I really need to thank Sister Imperator someday for bringing me here, in the end. I mean yeah she had nefarious intentions but…in a roundabout way she kinda helped save my life.”

“Amore, I don’t mean to sound like some kind of eh, Christian but…Sathanas has a plan for us. And it doesn’t involve any of that child bearing bullshit that was being spewed at you…no. He brought us together for a reason and for that I am thankful every day. Thankful every day you did not run screaming from Imperator’s office the day of your interview. Thankful you saw this…peculiar, awkward, old Cardinal…and saw not only a friend but a-a soulmate. I thank Sathanas but like I said earlier - I thank you more. I would forsake my Unholy Father in a heartbeat for you, amore. You are my true religion now. Know that.”

The noise that comes out of Natalie is wet and embarrassing as she cups Copia’s cheek and rests her forehead against his. After a moment of shared breath, she pulls away.

“My love, I’m so sorry to ruin the moment but I desperately need to blow my nose.”

He laughs - one of his weird little “ehehe” numbers - and the sound makes Natalie’s heart swell in her chest.

“Anything for the woman I love,” he announces grandly, leaning over her to grab the box of tissues on the nightstand and present them to her. She plucks one out and holds it to her face while Copia watches fondly from a very close distance.

“Uh, hon?”

“Mmhmm?”

“You might want to back up a little? I don’t trust the integrity of these things and you do not want to be in the splash zone.”

Copia rolls off her making the most revolted noise as Natalie laughs and struggles to breathe through her congested nose. Sitting up, she blows into the tissue while he watches looking supremely disgusted.

“‘Splash zone’,” he grumbles, shaking his head, “Amore, you are not well.”

“Yeah, I think that’s been established in our year of knowing one another. And, I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was speaking to the pinnacle of mental health over here.”

He pinches the meat of her thigh mid-blow and it makes her choke. In retaliation, she throws one of her crumpled, used tissues at him and it bounces off his chest.

“Augh, it’s wet!”

“Duh, that’s my snot,” Natalie chirps pleasantly. “What, you don’t like it? What was all that before about how I’m ‘your beautiful, perfect girl’, and ‘your reflection’, and ‘your heart and soul’ and–”

“...You understood all of that?”

Natalie smiles.

“Not all of it, but most. I’ve got a pretty impressive Duolingo streak going from all those nights you have confession duty, you know.”

He props himself up on his side and stares at her with a goofy smile.

“Amore mio, I take back my disgust. You could use me as a tissue and I would say thank you.”

That makes a horrible noise come out of her.

“Copia, I’d call you a simp but I think there would be some pot calling the kettle black action going on there so I’ll refrain. Ugh, what a fucking day.”

Natalie gathers up her used tissues with the intent of heading to the bathroom with them but Copia turns to her with his hands cupped expectantly. Gently, she smiles before depositing them and watching him get up and pad over to the garbage in the other room. When he comes back after washing his hands and climbs into bed, making his delightful old man noises, she grins.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Natalie murmurs as she nestles into his side.

“Indulging you? As if I wasn’t the one getting showered with compliments by a beautiful, nude, young woman?”

“You know what I mean,” she says, trying her best to stifle a yawn. “For hearing me out, for letting me show you how perfect you are to me…all of it. And thank you for the very kind things you said about me in turn. I…will not easily forget that.”

“I certainly hope not but like you, I am prepared to remind you over and over and over of how precious and perfect you are.”

“With fingers, tongue, and cock?” Natalie asks innocently, parroting Copia’s earlier promise. He snorts.

“Dolcezza mia, however you want it.”

“Mmm,” her eyelids are getting heavy as she listens to Copia’s steady breathing, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a demanding mistress.”

“Oh you haven’t even seen my demanding mistress side yet, beloved.”

He’s got his eyes closed but makes the dirtiest, most intrigued noise she’s ever heard and it makes butterflies ricochet around in her stomach. His hand trails teasingly up her arm, causing a shiver to roll through her.

“Well, Padrona,” he murmurs, low and enticing, “I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for bed just yet.”

Natalie’s already sitting up with a sigh and straddling his hips for the second time that evening as she says: “Insatiable as always, Your Eminence. Hmm, do I get to wear your grucifix and biretta? Perhaps I’ll get that pretty red rope out too?”

“Oh amore…I insist.”

[sunshades]

Ok i let the intervallo simmer here's some thoughts:

- it's true this intervallo is comedic and kind of "not that deep" (bear with me a sec) and negative interactions aren't to be taken That seriously like im seeing a lot of people do

- BUT this can also absolutely be a negative thing and i agree theres a lot of bits where it doesnt feel good to read. Sinclair is getting the scaredy little baby writing, Heathcliff is getting the haha delinquent writing, ishmael has this constant "joke about water/ships/whales/whatever"- we kinda know by now the sinners who had their canto already have a noticeable drop in quality (even yi sang whose writing always gets the most care at times falls into a comic relief role)

- at the same time, wondering why the group isn't being That friendly... especially "the sinners are suddenly so mean to heathcliff and treating him like he's stupid" is just. guys. they never stopped. this was how don quixote -the one he's consistently been the kindest towards- was treating him in TKT, barely a couple weeks after canto 6 in universe LOL

- it just... feels disingenuous to say "but they were such good friends in canto 7" when that whole scene came a bit out of the blue? the sinners have never been close friends all the way to canto 7- let's not forget how in MOTWE it was important to see Faust, meursault and ishmael have a couple moments with the other sinners (faust and ishmael with each other, faust with yi sang and dante, meursault with don and heathcliff) because the whole game they barely had any positive interactions. ishmael for example has shot down gregor's attempts at befriending her a couple times in the past, and never really felt indebted towards heathcliff for worrying about her in canto 5 (or at least that never made her want to be nicer to him)- but those aren't writing mistakes when she herself in LCB checkup even jokes about being kinda awful at making/keeping friends. she's just kinda like that. "im not that nice"

- that being said there are a lot of interactions in the checkup that imply they are actually getting closer. hong lu and sinclair are in good terms, meursault apparently now interacts with the others pretty often, ishmael and yi sang watch over don quixote (pretty significant when u consider one of ish's few interactions with don was calling her delusional in canto 5), ryoshu is interested in don, and i think even ishmael and ryoshu's squabble is interesting considering their last interaction was in canto 4 (where they were getting along even less). the intervallo definitely has some writing pitfalls but i think it's absolutely better if you keep in mind what the text has been telling us in all the chapters that lead up to it, not just counting c7's climax as something so completely defining of everyone's characters.

[thurstydiaz]

Chris is laughing because, well, what else can he do.

He was pretty calm when Eddie moved to El Paso, all things considered. Abeulo told him theres a big difference between being 13 and being 14, like this piece of your brain unlocks and you learn to think all over again. It's like, yeah, theres this new shelf somewhere in his brain. He can feel these thoughts now - hes been able to do that this whole time, he thinks, but with that new shelf in his brain he can see that both I'm just a kid and I've dealt with so much in my life its irrevocably changed the way I interact with the world. Nothings really just a shrug anymore, even when he tries.

Just a week ago he watched Lego Ninjago with tía Sophia's toddler and it's like his brain pulled out all his knowledge up to that point of the series and he genuinely thought to himself: "are these filler episodes?" On his cartoon? Filler? And there it found itself, sat on that new shelf - this thought - that suddenly this episode could be taken out of the show completely and the final battle would still be breathtaking and the story to get there unfettered. The next episode feels much the same and Chris disengages, nearly hysteric, as Lloyd the ninjago pauses his, up to this point incredible, character development to do a sick kick flip on a dodgeball court. He does another, then runs off the screen and does one more move then ends with a knowing wink to Chris as he slides his little Lego body on that new shelf.

So, his dad showing up and staying in a nice Airbnb - done. Not even on the shelf.

He misses him, objectively, lovingly. Its tense because, duh, but Eddie takes him to the lake and shopping and introduces him to a bbq place that Abeulo said was a total tourist trap. It's delicious, a total trap, and Chris walks away with a Polaroid of them both smudged with sauce and beaming through their ruined bibs. That sits on a shelf on his wall next to a discarded pair of swim goggles. Sometimes its turned down, when his stomach tears in knots and he finds himself unable to picture Eddie without a clouded storm of his dead mother over his shoulders.

Eddie staying for more than a quick trip - fine. He's a grown man, he can do what he wants. Chris isnt grown but Eddie let's him do what he wants. Odd. But oh well. He can see how his dad is so nervous to tell him, the way his shoulders tense and his back is stick straight even in these funny wooden chairs his family's passed on for generations, how he keeps flicking his eyes to the doorway where his grandma is definitely snooping on the other side.

That's the first shelf thought he dares to filed away under Dad. Eddie's not only nervous in front of him, his son, who he's let flee. Hes nervous in front of his parents. His mother. Who he fled from. Is this where he sat when he told them about Chris? Did he twist his fingers the same way - was his back this tense before the army changed him - was Shannon there? Theres a picture somewhere of his parents at this table, exhaustion evident in their figures, with Chris on a little bouncer on the table between them. Did she like this table? These chairs?

Eddie tells him "I'm here, mijo. I cant - I wo - I'm here. I love you too much to miss you, Chris." And theres Eddie, again, filed firmly on that shelf next to the child version of himself who's dreading telling his secrets. Chris can't articulate it well. Instead, he swallows the lump in his throat and nods his head and ducks away when he gets the chance. Voices fill the space he's abandoned and he hears his grandmother's voice grow shrill and he can envision his dad still tense in that chair and he files that away too. Some shelves have shelves, he finds.

Eddie's place is nice, even though he lied about his stay at first. Theres a dip in the shutters on the west facing wall and a few gaps where the caulk wasnt applied properly on the window seals and theres a drawer in the kitchen that pops put from behind the island and doesnt close properly. Both bathrooms have walk in showers and Eddie shows him these minuscule divots in the hallway where the previous owner had rails installed, removed, and covered with cheap spackle. "In case, you know, we ever need it," he says with far less nerves than Chris expected. Files that thought on the shelf. He intends to stay in El Paso.

Not ideal. El Paso is - temporary. Knew that going in. Acts on that even when he's having the time of his life with the vaguely rebellious teens from his new social circles. No plans for the summer under his watch, no sir. Hes got comraderie in chess club with this girl with green hair who's an orphan because I live with my grandparents too, it's kinda lame, isnt it? She invited him to her birthday, tentatively planned for some safari a 30 minute drive away at the end of April, and when he tells her he should be home by that time her face twists up in a familiar manner. Can see her file that information away on a shelf of her own.

So - look - he sees it all in a new light, is what hes saying. His grandparents arent hovering they're worried. Hes not just a kid who's experienced trauma hes a person with life experience some people couldnt find in their nightmares. His dads not difficult hes complex. Hes got layers.

That version of his mother he saw that night wasnt a ghost. Shannon's more than that, and so was she. He cant imagine why she was there, why she looked like a ghost, but some adults cant explain why they choose the everyday things they do - he cant expect either parties involved to sit with him and tell him with clarity why that evening was happening in the first place.

And that thought, it's not - filed away, per say, but it stops guiding his actions. He stops wishing he had an answer the more Eddie picks him up from school, stops pulling that want to understanding off the shelf to admire when he finds Eddie's face in the crowd at chess club. They play among us one night with his cousins and he doesnt even consider using yeah well you abandoned me emotionally as a retort when Eddie (rightfully) calls Chris sus for killing while lights are off. His little alien flies into the vast abyss, unbothered.

Inhibitions, released. Maybe he can learn a thing or two from that silly little alien.

And today - oh, today. Today he's roped his bisabeula into making lasagna. Its not as good as Bucks, another thought hes found on that shelf, but it reminds him of that loft and the LA air and what it's like to stick his hand out of the window to flow with the air during that short drive over. Bisabeula's house is small, two rooms the size of closets decked out with different themed blankets for each great grandkid opposite her own tiny master and a shed out back housing all her prized heirlooms to pass down one day. Last time they were all here, Eddie dug out a rocking horse for tía Sophia's aforementioned toddler.

Eddie's probably hungry. Yeah. And he'd love a reminder of LA.

Bisabeula folds easily, drives him over with a happy little grin on her face, and she idly carresses her course chin hairs - whiskers! his abuela scolds - as she tells him she's got a bridge meeting she forgot about so you'll have to take this in, and I'm sure your dad can take you home later.

Yeah, he wont wait up.

He puts the bag with the casserole dish on the swing on the porch and waves her away as he digs for the spare key in his pockets. No keyring, he just - carries it, totally normally.

Opens the door, finally, and -

Thing is, no quick abandonment on either of their ends. They promised.

So instead of fleeing, Eddie stands. Frozen. Instead of fleeing, slamming the door and therefore all the effort that's brought them here, Chris gapes.

The guy standing behind Eddie, though, arms circling his dad's chest and head buried in his neck - he seems to not get the message. His hold squeezes his father and Chris can see one of his legs between the pair in front. Theres low music playing from somewhere, a Spanish tune he recognizes from his abuelo's shows, and the guy is trying to sway with it. That must be what pulls his focus to the rest of the room, when his head dips a little lower on Eddie's clavicle and he finds the man under his arms stock still and he chuckles, deep but still finding it's way to Chris across the room. "Not giving up now, are you?" He says and then finally comes up for air and flings himself from Eddie's back.

Its quiet, the confusion, even through the hasty movements as the guy - taller than the archway behind them, curly hair cropped tight to his head and decked out in dressed-down business casual - scrambles away from Eddie and gathers his things from the coffee table. He says something and Eddie idles like he has a response but cant form the words. Chris's hold on a crutch wanes a little.

Eddie snaps out of it first - expected - because hes got this guy that's obviously trying not to get too close to either of them as he flaps his hand and babbles to the both of them what Chris can only imagine is an excuse to make this all fade away. Hes mentioning something about Church of all things when Eddie finally pulls his eyes from Chris, flushes even further, and tells the guy to "go out the back. I'll uh - I'll talk to you later."

The guy disappears out the back. The change in pressure makes the front door bounce on its hinges, knocks into Chris's crutch.

The shelf is not stable. In fact, Chris thinks this shelf in particular, housing all things Edmundo Diaz, firefighter, father, has completely vanished. Spilled all these thoughts and ruminations on the floor like a spilled lasagna. He cant stop a giggle. "So this is what we do now?"

Eddie's voice is hoarse. "Chris - I -"

Chris brushes him off, pushes into the house with pointed clicks and clacks on his way to the dining table. "Theres lasagna on the porch." He slides into a seat and shucks off his crutches and turns to find Eddie still there, looking towards the front door. Rolls his eyes. "Its not as good as Buck's but bisabeula made it so you cant tell her that."

That knocks Eddie back to life, for some reason. He retrieves the lasagna, plates up two servings, slides them in the microwave and taps his finger on the counter as he watches them dance around each other inside. Stops every few seconds, takes a breath, and doesnt turn to check that Chris is still there. When they're done the beeping cuts through the room like a bullet and Eddie takes it like a champ, bleeds out as he sets the plates and forks and cans of coke on the table between them.

His back is tense and his face is pinched and his cheeks are red and Chris knows that he wishes he could run right now. It reminds him of when he read his moms letter about why she abandoned him. Sometimes you have to love from far away. They both know how to do that.

God but hes tired of the action.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You should be."

Chris scoffs. "Of all the things I can be mad at you for, this doesnt even tip the scales." That's kind of a lie.

Theres a piece of Edmundo Diaz, father spilled onto the floor that catches his eyes. Eddie on one side, Buck on the other, Chris in the middle miserably losing a round on Mario Party. Eddie's chuckling, his arm is extended behind Chris. Not on his shoulder. Bucks couch doesnt have a high back. Wheres his hand?

"That's - um - okay. Good?"

Chris shrugs. "Its not Buck's but it's alright."

"Mijo." Eddie says it like a prayer. He prays now, sort of. He goes to the church with bisabeula and lights those tall candles around the house. Tía Addie pulled him to the table during a round of bullshit and Eddie went easily, signed the cross when he was given a hand and reminded everyone with a shaky breath that hes not competitive. Total crock of shit. He doesnt know the specifics but he remembers Eddie coming home with all those steaks that one time. Buck cooked them - Eddie was only allowed to sear them. Inside. Supervised. Beaming like he'd caught a golden goose.

"You're into guys, dad, it's not, like, prohibition times anymore. It's fine." Chris takes a long drink from his coke. "Just dont be surprised if I never use the front door again."

Eddie chuckles, rye, and pokes his hunk of lasagna. Tries but fails to look at Chris.

Edmundo Diaz, firefighter. Chris started doing laundry a couple years back, strictly one load a week. Dad caught him rewearing underwear because he had to do two loads, once, and decided he'd never live a life where he needed that again. Small closet, comfy clothes, nothing more. Dad had a small closet but still did laundry every day, rain or shine, on account of the smokey smell. Even when he was at dispatch. He said it lingered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Chris. You deserve - "

"Can we not - "

They both fall silent.

"No." Eddie finally says. "The two of us, kid, we're better than that. I'm sorry I haven't - that I. I trust you, Chris, so much. You're so grown up and somehow you're so well adjusted and I - huh - I am doing my best to be better for both of us. So you can keep being, dios, such a kind, smart, amazing guy. And I can be someone that you trust, too."

He used to just say "You and me then everyone else." That phrase comes to him, shuffles on a shelf that does exist, then settles in the air.

"I should have told you... it was never my intention for this to happen, Chris, god. If you want to get rid of your key you can."

And that's - firefighter, who holds him tight at the end of a long shift. Wakes him up to fried eggs and crispy bacon and sugary mini waffles and still floats through the house like a zombie through it all. Huh.

"I don't want to leave you over this, dad." He runs away once, jeez.

This is all familiar, in ways it's not. His shirt is similar. Chris is ganglier, hangs his body differently, thinks more profoundly. Eddie's none of those - has a solid presence that saves lives, one that used to wrestle with him against his grandparent's wishes and hovered when they tested crutches. Has that stability in him that Chris used to cling to the moment he was home from school and found his father there, ready and waiting. Breathing. Alive. Dumb as a bag of rocks, bless him.

Okay, this is enough.

"Just... can we go home already."

Eddie takes a deep breath. "You just said you didn't want to leave."

"Not!" Chris grasps at his hair, clenching and unclenching. "Not you, dad. Not back to my abuelos and not to bisabeulas, or to tìas or Buck's or the park or where-freakin-ever! I want us to go home." He punctuates the end syllable by syllable, pounding an open palm on the table.

"You - ok, yeah. Yeah. If you're sure. We can start moving some things in, maybe get -"

"This isn't home, dad, this is a shell of a house." His voice echoes in the room.

"This is where I live now, Chris. This is home."

"No it's not."

It's a challenge. They both hear it. Good ole Diaz genes and all.

Eddie's lasagna is pulled apart like hes doing open heart surgery on that table. Chris finished his, somewhere along the line, and their forks are sat in mirroring positions against their plates. If he looks to the left - oh, right. Buck's not there. He's usually already up by this point, to be honest, offering Chris another helping. Hes not at the fridge either. It's still so odd.

Eddie follows his eyes and swallows something.

"I want to go home too, mijo."

"Can we? Please?" Eddie tears up. Doesnt look away. "Dad, please take me home."

Its quick, after that. He's quick - quicker to show and accept affection, quicker to use his words and explain himself coherently and catch onto those looks the adults around him share when they think he's an invalid or something. Its quick and easy saying bye to his friends and its quick when he tells his abuela he's going home and hes quick when he tells abuelo that yes, I'm certain this is what I want and no, dont get rid of my room and hey, maybe we'll be back for a visit this summer. He's still using his old duffle and hes quick to separate his clothes and his El Paso clothes. He hasnt grown that much. Hes not - without.

Dad's slower, but not in opposition to him. His house was barely unpacked so he doesnt need to rush. He calls Bobby just a day later and hes got the job before he's even asked, finishes the call behind watery eyes and in a different room. Buck sent him down with some kitchen gadgets he never used so he has his sisters over to take them away. They drink wine and bicker over a bread maker and say things like shame you're on your way out now that I kinda like you and now everyone in my book club has a gay brother in LA and dont forget us again.

They're almost back to LA and somewhere on the road, Chris finds that those pieces of Edmundo Diaz, firefighter, father are still scattered everywhere.

His dad is right here, though.

[val-of-the-north]

Backstory thoughts on Merciless Roenna

Woah here I go again, overthinking random DS2 NPCs no one gives a shit about lol. Today it's Roenna, an invader I liked almost instantly, but it tackles a few other guys as well so here we go.

She was born in Tseldora during its economic boom after the discovery of brightstone. Not among the rich, but the peasants, so she wasn't exactly raised in a comfortable environment. I see her as having had violent tendencies as a child and often acting upon them. You know how some children squash bugs or snails just because they can? Some even come as far as to injure small animals. I think Roenna was a bit like this, as well as being easy to rile up by other kids, with disastrous consequences.

Only, most of the time, children develop these kinds of behaviors because they experience abuse at home and it's their way of lashing out. Let's just say her home situation wasn't that great, and it became even worse when she started being more openly violent. Instead of dealing with their own daughter like good parents should, they dropped her off at Tseldora's church to be raised and "corrected" by religious doctrine. It's the reason why she wears the Priestess set (minus the headpiece), which is also found specifically in that church.

Church life seemingly worked to suppress some of those behaviors... but in reality, she resented literally everything about it, and would simply cultivate her more morbid fascinations when she was alone. She was still mostly taking it out on small animals and insects, though she probably got the urge to stab at least a few people as she grew up lol. But at some point, she met (not yet Ruined) Aflis, who was just a humble mage apprentice at the time. Tseldora seemed to have had a community of them. It's the only place in the game where you can find the white variant of the Hollow Mage enemy, and Aflis wields one of their same Bat Staffs.

They got introduced by way of him seeing her crush some poor creature in her hands, which she tried to deny when first confronted about it. However, she quickly realized he wasn't judging her action, but rather mourning the loss of a perfect brewing ingredient, which would catch her interest a fair bit. So they started talking from that point onwards.

She then began sneaking out to perform weird occult things with him and his master at the time, which is where she learned how to brew concoctions of all kinds. Her tendency to dismember things finally proved useful, as when potion ingredients weren't parts of plants they were usually parts of living creatures. So Aflis left it to her to do the honors... not because he couldn't, but because it allowed her to waste some of her suppressed urges in a productive manner, which felt really liberating for her.

Basically, she had finally found an outlet AND a place where she wasn't considered an affront to the Gods for parts of herself she cannot control, which is also one of the deciding factors as to why she chose to leave with Aflis when he was called to Aldia's Keep for his assistance. Sadly, she could never fully join whatever wizard circle he was part of, either because they simply didn't have the means to "rescue" her from her position as priestess, or because it was an all-male group. After all, it does seem like there were only guys there.

Regardless, she kept attending these meetings in secret, and had to balance her two lives accordingly.

Despite being a pretty maladapted individual she was surprisingly receptive and nice to people like her, pushed into a clerical role by their families just so that they could get rid of a burden... I like to think it's what happened to (Pilgrim) Bellclaire too. This is based on the fact she actually owns a Priest's Chime she never uses. Pilgrims are also people who travel somewhere for religious reasons, so her connection to clerics doesn't stop there.

There wasn't anything as deeply wrong with her as with Roenna, but she was still considered not worth the effort by whoever her family was. That is why an older Roenna would take an interest in the younger apprentice cleric and nudge her towards Aflis and his tutelage. And if obtuse gender roles were the reason Roenna could never formally join that wizard circle, Aflis would make sure to completely ignore that limitation for Bellclaire. She is wearing their white, male-only wizard robes after all!

(Though that may also be a gender-nonconforming moment, it's hard to tell lmao. I guess it's up to anyone to decide... honestly, for more on her (and Felicia the Brave), check out this fun post from my friend @katyspersonal [x]. We love these minor characters a lot lol)

Though, unlike Roenna, Bellclaire wasn't ostracized by her fellow clerics. She was simply a bit odd with her mannerisms. Meanwhile, Roenna had always been viewed differently by her clerical peers because of her reputation as a violent person, her volatile personality, and her tendency to disappear for a long while, which started a bunch of crazy rumors about her. They mostly thought she was out there murdering people when no one was looking (though to be fair, she probably thought about severely injuring some very exasperating individuals at least once in a while)

All the more reasons to finally ditch the clergy in favor of mad and gruesome experiments in Aldia's funhouse... and she must have risen to the top quite steadily with how useful she was. She does wear a Warlock Mask, which I don't assume they handed out to absolutely everyone. She had found a place where she belonged, after so long...

Her friend Aflis also became someone quite important for the Keep. He wears the Dragon Sage Hood, which denotes the rank of Archmaster, an incredibly high position.

And hey, both seemed to have left in time to not be consumed by evil, hungry parasitic spiders! But I doubt they would have succumbed to them even if they still lived there...

So yeah, this was a fanfiction and a half, but I think this kind of background fits her quite well.

[mnemosyne-xiv]

Koana sighed. “Master Fourchenault recommended you two, along with this woman,” he said, sparing the memoriate a glance. “Why must we add a fifth?”

“If you think there's going to be too many cooks in the kitchen, you’ll be happy to learn that our friend loathes large parties and would rather work by her lonesome than entertain a crowd.” Thancred chuckled under his breath. “Besides, for as much trouble as she’s bound to cause, the insight and arcane mastery she’ll offer is more than enough to make up for her terrible attitude.”

Zero gave a faint nod. “Remia won’t disappoint.”

“Assuming thine companion deins to make an appearance,” Urianger spoke up. “Though, I find it curious she didn’t outright reject our request…”

“Talking behind a womans back is hardly polite.”

“I knew you’d come,” Zero said, a smile spreading across her lips as she turned towards her partner.

Remia shrugged while she walked up to the quartet. “You’ve agreed to go, so I have no choice but to at least humor the boy.” Her uncovered eye flicked to the man in question. And then she smirked, clearly amused with what she saw. “This is the Second Promise? Oh, what a waste of time this is about to be.”

Koana recovered from his initial shock only to glare at her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just look at you,” Remia mused, “and those memories of yours. My oh my, you’re going to lose to your sister because someone is too deadset on innovation without heeding the peoples wants and needs.”

“Remia,” Thancred said warningly.

She sighed. “Fine fine, what is it you want? He’s a lost cause, so perhaps you three have a better reason for urging the head of the Forum to summon me?”

Urianger nodded. “We wish for thine wisdom in the Rite of Succession.”

“Solely wisdom, or do you want me to fight for a man who isn’t fit to rule as well?” Remia asked.

“Give him a chance to speak, Remia,” Zero said.

Remia’s expression softened the slightest bit. “Go on then, tech-kitty.”

Koana exhaled a breath to calm himself. “I want to bring the technological advancements of Sharlayan to my homeland as a means of helping my people, and to repay my father for all the opportunities he has given me.”

A suffocating silence fell around them. Everyone’s attention was fixed on Remia who in turn stared at Koana, her blind eye seeing right through him. But after what felt like hours, she finally spoke.

“You’re genuine. Perhaps a bit awkward, and an utter failure when it comes to socializing—but that’s hardly a pre-requisite for a ruler considering the two voidsent i’m stuck advising on the Thirteenth…” Her voice trailed off while she further weighed the risks and rewards of this potential partnership. “Though, your heart is in the right place, your people coming first and foremost. Politics aside, ultimately that’s what truly matters.”

Zero smiled. “That’s her way of saying she’ll help.”

“Assuming you can tolerate her, that is.” Thancred then said, both him and Urianger chuckling as Remia awaited the Second Promises decision.

Koana cleared his throat. “What can you offer?”

“Depends, do you believe the golden city to be real?”

“I do.”

“And you’ll find it, no matter what?”

“I will.”

Remia cracked a smile. “Then I offer you all of my knowledge and strength in exchange for all that you learn after I make you Dawnservant.”

[arkiwii]

very sad still see the saria/silence divorce headcanon still going around

have you ever tried to consider that they never dated before lone trail because it would be unrealistic with the timeline and the events and also because it would be overshadowing the actual truth of why they couldn't get along

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[uitzinnigmp3]

When you hate the body you are in

Oh love, you're acting just for him

As he counts his gold and green in his ivory tower

AS GOOD A REASON | PARIS PALOMA

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo | colour

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Man if Marcy keeps ending up with like child protection services in all these fics over her parents being slightly distant then my parents should be in JAIL

[great-tusk]

Ugh. I had a really bad day.

[guinevereslancelot]

job interview tomorrow 🙏

[peapod20001]

Hehehehehehee <3

Currently having my art renaissance arc in case u haven’t noticed. Idk what’s going on with that tho I’m just making shit

I have a naked Felix under cut if you want her <3 you can’t see anything cus one of my talents is the artistic censor <3

Took me a solid 10 minutes to convince myself I wouldn’t spontaneously combust for drawing feet lmao