#that is blatantly ignoring how the scene started

[pinkieroy]

Okay, I think some people are missing the fact that delilah used laudna's initial discomfort with the sword to manipulate her, marisha described her hating it before delilah said anything, like that time she was using her love for imogen to manipulate her she was was using her hate here, the hate came first the wanting to eat the sword came after, delilah has been in her head for 30 years she knows what emotions to use in her favor

[cryptidize]

Every time I think about drawing or indulging in fandom art and content, I remember thats the demons talking and I Must shut my ears to her siren song

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141...

You gave us that amazing chase scene in Dangerous Pursuit....how about for the other 141? You can include Price again of course :) I'd only ask that it be consensual. Thanks!

Oh, the chase scene from Dangerous Pursuit. That was a fun one to write. If any of y'all are interested in that one, you can find it HERE. Let's just say that it involved mud, Price dragging Reader back to the safehouse, and then forcing her into the shower with him. Things...happen. (hehe)

To be fair, there are actual chase scenes with lots of running, and simply walking very fast to maybe escape. Three of the four are more fast walking, while the fourth is more "traditional." Kyle's is the mildest. Simon's is straight up CNC and involves more of a "stalking" aspect. Price's is all about stubborn, bratty Reader and is a Bodyguard AU, and Johnny's is the only genuine "chase" through the woods.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: CNC, Primal, Stalking, knifeplay, brief pussy slapping, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, swearing, Bodyguard AU, arguments, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, secret relationship, spanking, rough kissing, light breeding, possessive behavior

Word Count: 4.7k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I told your father that I’d take you home.”

“And I want to stay, John.” He sternly stares back, unamused. “What’s the issue?” you shrug. “Why can’t I stay?”

“You know I don’t ask questions.”

“No,” you reply. “You just do as your told.”

John grimaces. “And you do as I tell you.”

“That only works in the bedroom, John,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

You’re being stubborn, but this event is fun. Most of the time, your father doesn’t bring you along to work banquets or charity parties. When he does, you’re briefly shown about, and then quickly whisked away. This time, you were allowed to stay.

“I’m staying.”

John shakes his head. “Can’t do that. Can’t disobey direct orders from your father.”

The two of you stand in a small side hallway directly left of the main banquet hall. Only a few people loiter about, but they are closer to the main foyer. None of them are giving either of you any attention.

“No,” you retort.

“No?” asks John, slowly.

“I’m. Staying.” You emphasize each word, and when John doesn’t reply, you start to turn away to head back into the banquet hall.

But John has other plans. Grabbing your wrist, he pulls, returning you to the stop you just occupied. He takes a single step into your space, staring intently into your eyes.

“We. Are. Leaving,” he says in the exact same way.

A sharp reply forms on your tongue, ready to be unleashed. John knows you, though, and continues on, interrupting before you can even begin. “Now, be a good girl, and let’s go.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter, yanking your arm out of his grasp.

Pushing past John, you purposefully shoulder-check him before storming down the long hall. There is an emergency exit at the other end. Bursting through it, you nearly trip on the top step, but manage to right yourself at the last second.

John calls your name but you ignore him. It is your only defense. It’s not like you can make it far with him on your tail.

Passing the second landing, you head for the next short flight of stairs, but John is already on you, grabbing your upper arm.

“Wait,” he commands, but you blatantly disregard the order. “Stop!”

Keeping your back to him does nothing. John gives your arm another tug, and this time he puts his strength behind it, shoving you up against the concrete wall. His hips press against yours, his large hand coming to rest beside your head.

“Don’t make this hard. Don’t run.” His voice is sweet, and that stirs a need in your belly.

You do soften, lips parting to receive his. John goes in for the claiming, meeting you with equal softness. Heat rushes to your core. With a hand between your bodies, you palm John through his pants. Rubbing his erection, he groans softly. The sound of it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Then, you squeeze. A little bit harder than you usually would.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking the kiss.

It’s enough to slip away—enough for you to break out of his grasp and flee down the stairs. John follows. It isn’t until you’re at the bottom floor and exiting into the parking garage that he catches up.

“Let go of me,” you bite, but John ignores you, grasping your upper arm in a vice grip.

He guides you toward the black SUV the two of you arrived in. John retrieves the key fob and unlocks it, the car’s headlights coming on.

“Get in,” he mutters, opening the rear passenger door.

He unceremoniously shoves you into the backseat.

But he doesn’t shut the door. He doesn’t walk around to the front to get in the driver side.

Instead, John follows in after you, slamming the car door shut behind him.

Your next words are lost as his hand wraps around your throat and he pushes you onto your back. John’s kisses are not sweet. They are rough. Claiming. You open for him, taking each one, your need for him spiking ever higher.

“Told you to behave,” he mutters, hand coming down hard on the inside of your thigh.

You yelp, and then you’re yanked upright into his lap. John adjusts your position, spreading you wide over his thighs.

The front of his pants is open, belt to the side, everything shoved down enough to reveal this thick cock. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and fuck yourself on it. Yeah?”

You stare him down. Unmoving. It’s not that you don’t want to—because you’d fucking love to—but you’re irritated with him. You want to be a bit stubborn in this.

Gripping your thighs, John lifts just enough to push your thong to the side, line you up, and bring you down on his cock. You’re immediately impaled, and you both groan loudly. His hand grabs the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into your skin.

“Fucking do it, love. Or we’ll sit like this all fucking night.”

Planting your hands against the back of the seat, you start to rock and roll, lifting and coming down again.

“Too slow,” he murmurs. “Fuck yourself.”

Fingers digging into the rough fabric, you angle forward a bit, engage the correct muscles, lightly bouncing on his cock.

“That’s it, love,” groans John. “Just like that.”

You set a steady rhythm, and John releases his hold, placing his hands off to the side, deliberately not touching you. But you notice his fingers flexing, like he itches to do it.

“You can follow direction,” he murmurs.

“Shut the fuck up, John,” you moan, your own pleasure building with every second.

But you need more. It simply isn’t enough. Reaching down, you seek your clit.

“No.” John snags your wrist and raises your hand to eye-level. He brings it to his mouth, sucking your slickness off your fingers. “Not until I fill you with my cum.”

“John,” you whimper.

“After,” he repeats, and you return your hand to the seat behind him.

You want your end, but to find it, you have to give John what he wants. With each upward tilt of your hips, you lightly engage your pelvic floor, squeezing him.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongated the vowel.

You repeat it a few more times until John’s eyelids become slightly heavy. Then, you’re frantic. Desperate. The car might be rocking erratically but you’d hardly care. The need to come is driving you on.

John’s hands go to your thighs, and then they squeeze—hard. Guiding, he meets you thrust for thrust, until all of the control is his, and John has you sealed to him, taking every drop.

The two of you pant in the dark car. There is sweat on your brow and on the back of your neck.

Pushing your dress out of the way, John reveals your pussy and how his cock sits inside you. He’s not looking at where your bodies meet. He’s staring into your eyes, thumb poised at your clit.

“You followed my orders,” he murmurs with the first stroke of his thumb. The one touch sends a rocket of pleasure up your spine. You’ll be gone in seconds. “That’s how it should always be, yeah?” He rubs little circles. Your hips twitch, rocking into his touch.

John is still inside you, and you watch as his cum-slicked cock appears and disappears with each soft rock of your hips.

“My good girl. My good fucking girl.”

Another stroke, and then your fingers dig into his shoulder, back arching, head lolling as the orgasm grips you.

When you come down, John sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean. The next second, he’s lifting you off his cock, placing you into the seat next to him. The car down opens, and he slides out, adjusting his clothes and smoothing his suit jacket.

“Out,” he says.

“What?”

“Out.”

You do and he shuts the door behind you only to open the front passenger door. “Get in.”

The moment you’re in, he shuts it and goes around the front of the car. He hops in, and turns the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. John backs out, and then the two of you are off.

The moment he clears the parking garage and the first stoplight, he glances in your direction.

“Punishment isn’t over.” He briefly nods toward your dress. “Hike it up. Play with yourself. Use my cum to do it.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The sky above Manchester is slightly overcast and grey.

It might be chilly, but that doesn’t appear to dampen anyone’s mood. The festival clogging the streets is packed full of people. Everyone’s attention is completely absorbed in what is happening around them.

Food and drink stalls line the street, interrupted here and there with stalls selling wares and crafts. There are activities for all ages, and live music on each corner. Everyone around you is enjoying themselves, and yet you are on alert.

A shadow is at your back. He is one with the crowd, moving amongst them like he’s simply one of them.

But you know him for who he is. There is no balaclava. No tactical gear. Just civilian clothes and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He comes to a stop one stall over, observing some art, admiring the brushstrokes like he’s actually there to shop and not stalking you.

Simon isn’t here for any of it. Not the food or beer stalls. Not for the trinkets or live music. He is there for you.

And the game is good.

It thrills your blood, churns your heart, makes every nerve fire erratically.

Casually turning away from the flowers you were inspecting, you pretend not to notice Simon. Yet, every time you glance over your shoulder, he appears to have grown a bit closer, matching you almost step for step.

Stepping around a giggling couple, you curve to the right, popping between two stalls and reappearing on the other street. You glance left, seeing no sign of him, and then glance to the right.

As if from nowhere, Simon appears. His arms are crossed over his chest, head tilted slightly to the side in a mocking gesture.

“Fuck,” you whisper, turning around to seek another escape.

If you can make it to the checkpoint without Simon grabbing you, you win.

If not…

You feel the brush of an arm against your own. Stepping to the side, you glance over, only to find Simon. He is standing right there, his body angled in your direction. Every limb and muscle freezes, solidifying you like stone.

It is a temporary paralysis.

You twist away, moving into the crowd.

Simon casually pivots with you, following as you weave through the crowd. He strolls, each movement slow and calculated, as if he knows there is no rush in catching you.

But then again, Simon always wins.

Even with the rules.

With each step, you glance over your shoulder. Simon holds the same distance, still casually strolling with indifference. You pick up the pace, intending to escape, only for you to knock into someone’s shoulder.

“So sorry,” you say quickly.

The older man you’ve run into shrugs, smiling. “No harm done.”

Giving him your best smile, you quickly glance away, seeking Simon.

But Simon is gone. A disappearing phantom.

You spin, gaze scanning the crowd, but you don’t see him. Simon is absent. Or hidden. He could be anywhere.

Taking off, you slip between two stalls to cut through a side street. There are people around but no one is hanging about. They keep moving, minding their own business.

The side street is completely empty.

You keep glancing back, expecting Simon to come up behind you, turning into the alley to pursue.

But he doesn’t come from behind.

He doesn’t come from the front, either.

A hand closes over your mouth, and you’re tugged from the side, dragged beneath a garage door and into a loading area. Simon pushes you against the wall.

“You lose,” he murmurs.

The cigarette is gone, and there is a mischievous glint in his eye. The rules say that if Simon catches you, he can do whatever he wants.

With his body trapping you, Simon withdraws a knife from his boot. He taps the flat edge against your cheek.

“If you scream. I cut. Got it?”

You nod frantically.

The knife disappears, and his hand falls from your mouth. He grabs you by your upper arms, hauling you away from the wall, only to push you down onto a nearby stacks of crates. You’re not bent over completely. Just shoved forward. At Simon’s mercy.

“Spread your legs.” You obediently do so. Simon’s hand roam over your jeans, gliding over ass and thigh. “Take them off.”

Reaching with one hand, you undo the button, and then you’re shoving your jeans down as best you can. When they stick, Simon grabs hold, yanking them down to the floor. You whimper, and Simon lightly slaps your pussy through your underwear.

The knife comes next, slipping underneath the fabric. Simon tugs, and you hear the rip before you feel the bare air against your slick pussy.

“Open your mouth.” You obey, and Simon shoves your underwear into your mouth.

Grabbing your wrists, Simon locks your arms at your back, keeping you stationary. From your advantage points, all you can see are his boots between your legs.

Simon’s thumb parts your pussy, the wet squelch of your arousal loud in the air. He teases your entrance—moves to your clit. Toying with it has you clenching on nothing.

“You love it when I hunt you.” Simon’s thumb disappears, replaced with the head of his cock. He rubs that through your slickness, coating the tip. “Do you feel that?”

The head of his cock starts to push in, and you moan around your underwear.

Simon chuckles, and then he’s shoving forward, forcing every inch of him inside. It is tight, the stretch a little daunting. It always is with him. With the next thrust, your foot slips against the floor, but Simon holds your firmly.

That thrust was just a tease. Using his weight to keep you pinned, Simon fucks you in earnest, skin slapping against skin. You are his toy. To do with as he wishes. To be his in whatever ways he wants.

Those are the rules after all. You’ve been caught. Simon is the one in control.

He grunts above you, not speaking. You’re unable to see him, but you feel the harsh grip of his hands. There are no people around, just the distant sound of music slipping in from underneath the garage door.

The warehouse is completely empty, and knowing Simon, he likely scoped this place out before the two of you arrived here. He enjoys planning ahead. If anything, he was probably herding you to this very spot on purpose.

The fucking bastard.

His thrusts increase—become more erratic. As the winner, your pleasure doesn’t matter. This is about him. Simon stifles a moan, and then he’s grinding forward, pressing himself full against you.

Simon shivers as his release floods him and enters into you. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing, telling him to fill you until you’re dripping.

In the silence of the warehouse, Simon’s labored breathing starts to even out. He doesn’t release your wrists. Instead, he thrusts shallowly a few times, spreading his cum around before withdrawing.

“You did good,” he murmurs. Using the grip on your arms, Simon brings you up to standing, his softening cock pressing against your ass. “Behaved nicely.” He lightly kisses the side of your throat.

Releasing your wrists, his fingers find your lips. You open for him, and Simon removes your underwear from your mouth. It disappears into his pocket.

“Get dressed. And then you’re going to follow me out of here. Calmly. And without fuss.” Your only answer is nod. “You’ll get yours when we leave.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're being difficult," growls Kyle.

"I'm being difficult?" you snap. "How inconvenient for you."

Kyle rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air. "I'm not arguing with you about this," he sighs.

"Great,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders like you’re not bothered at all. “Not that interested either."

It earns you a sharp glare that you blatantly ignore.

"We need to cool off," murmurs Kyle, his demeanor softening.

"I agree," you say automatically, starting to turn away from him.

You’re being bratty. It’s not right, but it feels fucking good. Irritation simmers beneath your skin, and you’re itching for an argument.

“Where are you going?” asks Kyle.

"Away from you.”

Kyle mutters something you don’t quite catch, but you don’t turn around. You keep walking, trudging ahead, even when he tries to stop you.

“What are you going?” he asks again.

"You just asked me that. And I answered you.”

“We’re not at home. Where do you think you’re going?”

You shrug. “Why does that matter? You just said we need to cool off.”

“I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a public space.”

"And I don't feel like being in your presence at the moment."

Kyle mutters a curse, but you’re already walking away again, aiming for anywhere but beside him.

"No," he says, reaching out to grab your wrist. You pull back at the last second and continue on.

Kyle says your name.

You ignore him.

People are starting to stare—to glance in your direction. It only makes you want to run fast—to move swiftly away from the situation. It’s not that you want to fight. You hate fighting with Kyle. But you’re annoyed, and sometimes having it out in the moment isn’t the best time to sort through an issue.

Kyle moves out in front of you, coming to a stop directly in your path. You side-step, but Kyle matches the movement.

“I swear to God, Kyle,” you growl.

“You’re not leaving my sight,” he replies, voice husky and harsh. “Don’t care how mad you are.”

Your hand rises in a gesture for silence. Biting your own tongue, you swallow back a retort.

Taking a deep breath, you try again. “Move.”

"No."

As you shove past him, Kyle grabs your upper arm, haltering all forward momentum.

“Is this bloke bothering you?”

Putting on your best smile, you turn toward the stranger, intending to reassure him that everything is fine.

"We're good," says Kyle before you even get a word out.

Nope. Now you're beyond annoyed.

The stranger doesn't address Kyle. He doesn’t look at him at all. “I was asking the lady.”

"I'm fine,” you reply slowly. “Thank you."

Kyle’s back straightens, shoulders broadening. “She said she’s fine.”

All you irritation is melting away, pooling at your feet like a rainy puddle. You adore like this. Protective. Assertive. Slightly possessive.

The stranger inclines his head and backs away. Kyle watches him go, his mouth a thin line of annoyance.

Rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off stress, Kyle pivots in your direction, his grim expression switching to a puzzled one.

“I know that look,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What look?" you ask, all innocence.

Whatever Kyle felt before is gone. There is a knowing—nearly sly—smirk twisting at the corner of his mouth.

He takes a small breath, and then leans in a bit, lowering his voice. “You want to do this here?”

"Not here," you shrug. "But it would help work off some this," you gesture vaguely, "irritation."

Kyle’s gaze sweeps up and down your body, admiring every angle. He is not subtle. Each pass of his gaze is deliberate, like you are a shiny gold necklace he wants to purchase.

“You think you deserve it?” he asks, slightly arching an eyebrow. “After running away from me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan.

Your arm rises, hand poised to push at him, but Kyle knows all your moves. His hand grips your wrist and squeezes, drawing you close.

“Don’t run, love. I’ll always chase you.”

He promptly releases your wrist and you spin on your heel, the irritation rising again, boiling hot in your blood.

It is just you, and your footsteps moving toward escape. People pass by you���but his presence is there, sitting on your heels. A weight you cannot shake off.

The moment you step into a side hall that exits into the main parking garage; Kyle is grabbing your waist. It doesn’t matter that the door he pushes you through says “Employees Only.”

You’re shoved against the wall, his hands roaming, tugging at your clothes. There is nothing soft about this. He is hungry. Wanton. Kyle loves the chase. You resist—but it’s pretend. You enjoy Kyle like this. You enjoy this attention.

Kyle’s lips press to yours, but you do not kiss him back. It earns you the reaction you desire. With an annoyed, grunt, Kyle turns you around and shoves you back against the wall. Your cheek flattens, the cold stone almost biting as Kyle shoves his hand down your pants to play with your pussy.

His finger slides through your slickness, seeking your clit, teasing a bit before retreating.

“I told you I’d always chase you.” He nips at your ear, and then with his other hand, slaps your ass.

You yelp, but all that earns you is Kyle’s hand. Not returning to your ass but to venture into your mouth. Fingers push in, and then your lips suck his digits, tasting your wetness.

“You need to fucking behave or—”

“Excuse me.”

Kyle freezes. He waits a beat, and then turns his head enough to look over his shoulder. With your position, you only see the vague shape of a person.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

Kyle clears his throat. “Sorry,” he laughs. “Got a bit turned around. Right, love?”

His fingers are gone, as is his hand.

“Yes,” you answer with a giggle. “Took the wrong door!”

The employee is unimpressed, but only steps to the side next to the open door, lightly extending their arm in a gesture to leave. Kyle promptly places his hand on the small of your back, ushering you forward.

He guides out into the parking garage, and you whirl on him, but Kyle is faster.

“We’re going home,” he murmurs.

“Kyle—”

“Behave,” he coos. “You won’t like your punishment.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

The moon glows high in the sky, casting white light across the tree line in front of you. Johnny is in nothing but a kilt and boots. There is a cheery, almost cheeky grin on his face. You have no idea how the man isn’t cold or even chilly. The cool night air doesn’t appear to bother him at all.

It is just the two of you. No one else is out. The farm is completely asleep.

“I’m gonna show you a piece of my history.”

“Your history?” you ask, shivering.

Johnny instructed you to bring a thin nightdress with you when you came to visit his family farm. Tonight, you’re in it, barefoot and seconds away from shivering. The material is almost translucent, and it clings to your body, hugging every curve and dip. It’s for sleeping. Not for frolicking in the Scottish Highlands at night.

“Aye,” shrugs Johnny. “Family history. Clan, specifically.”

Your cross your arms over your chest to hide your pebbled nipples. “It has to do with the forest?”

He nods. “You know what’s coming up?”

You frown. Shake your head.

“Beltane,” he answers. “It’s all about…coming together in fruitful union.”

“Fruitful union?” you deadpan.

“It’s a time to celebrate,” he replies, turning his back on the dark forest to address you directly. “Passion. Abundance. Vitality.” He pauses. “Conception.”

The back of your neck warms at the word.

“Why are we out here exactly?” you ask, pushing the conversation on. It’s not like it doesn’t intrigue you, but it is chilly.

“All the families in the area would gather their marriable sons and daughters, bring them to this very forest, and they’d…have a race.”

“A race?”

“The men in kilts.” Johnny gestures to himself. “Every bonnie lass in robes.” He gestures to you.

“I’d hardly call this a robe, Johnny.”

He takes a step closer. The heat at the back of your neck intensifies, running up to your cheeks and scorching down your back to pool in your core.

“Women were sent first into the wood with the goal to come out untouched on the other side. The men would be sent in a few minutes after. Chase them down.”

“And what was the purpose of this?” you ask, voice nearly a whisper.

Johnny steps forward. “Marriage.” His gaze drops to your lips.

"I see. And what happened in the woods, exactly?"

Johnny grins, gaze returning to your eyes. "I think you know."

You do know. It isn’t hard to connect the dots.

“Am I to be chased?”

Johnny’s thumb lightly brushes the underside of your bottom lip. “Would you like that?”

You nod.

He leans in, lightly pressing his lips to yours. “Then run.”

You don’t run. You don’t really jog, either. It’s more of a quick walk with an occasional skip into the dark forest. And it is that. Dark. The moment you slip beyond the exterior tree line, you’re swallowed up. The sky is clear with no clouds, and yet only a few slivers of moonlight break the canopy overhead.

You are not made for this. Especially barefoot.

The only thing you can do is to take it slow. And the other side? You didn’t even ask how far it is or in what direction you need to go. But it’s not like you want to be successful. Johnny is somewhere behind you, hunting you down, watching you in the dark.

You are the deer. And he the hunter.

An owl hoots. A twig snaps. Like a startled animal, you spin around, head on a swivel as you scan the darkness. There is nothing. Only you. And the intense hammering of your heart.

You take one step back, the soft ground melting under your foot.

Reaching out, your fingers brush against bark. It is rough and coarse beneath your fingertips. Splaying your hand flat, you press your palm against the trunk of tree beside you.

Its outline is hardly visible.

Just a shape in the dark.

“Found you.”

Johnny’s voice comes as a whisper just over your shoulder. You start, body lurching forward as the adrenaline spikes. His arms grab at your waist, and then the tree is at your back, biting into your skin through the slim fabric.

Johnny’s hand cradles the side of your neck as he goes in for a kiss. It is claiming. Deep. Intense. You open for him eagerly, tasting him, and sucking on his tongue.

He groans in response, his pelvis grinding against you. Even with the kilt you feel his hardness. It is pressing. Insistent.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, giving breath before stealing it again.

One hand slips underneath the hem of your nightdress. You’re not wearing underwear, and that hand—Johnny’s hand—pushes between your thighs, seeking your wetness. He finds it, moaning softly into your mouth as he glides his fingers back and forth over your pussy, teasing your clit in slow circles.

The cold is distant now. Fuzzy. There is only heat, and your legs part for him, wanting more.

Johnny’s grip tightens, and then he’s drawing back, turning you around and pressing you against the tree again. You brace yourself against the bark. Johnny shoves the nightdress up, exposing your ass to the chilly air.

But then the cold is gone, replaced by his heat.

Johnny cages you in, and then you’re the one who fills the wood with your moan. The head of his cock pushes in, and then Johnny is thrusting. With his hands on your hips to keep you in place, Johnny ruts into you, teeth grazing along your exposed shoulder.

You are unable to move. Unable to do anything but take it.

Each stroke hits deep, sending waves of sensation up to cloud your head. There is a hazy settling over you. Your pussy clenches, and Johnny shivers, his thrusts stuttering slightly. Once it relaxes again, Johnny is right back at it, grunting.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he groans, pace quickening.

It’s slurred a bit.

Reaching behind you, you grasp the back of Johnny’s neck. Turning your head just enough, you find his mouth, seeking your own claiming.

“I’m yours.”

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@lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay

[gyllenhaalstories]

COUNT IT DOWN — JAKE GYLLENHAAL

summary: jake grunts. jake grunts a lot. jake grunts very loudly. do i need to say more?

warnings: smut (semi public sex, quickie, fingering, penetration, orgasm control, creampie). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2920

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i can't get the sound of jake's grunts out of my head (not that i want to anyway) 🥵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"9, 10, 11, 12..."

You sighed. They had been counting to twenty so many times over, they probably hit the million mark by now.

"13, 14, 15, 16..."

You busied yourself around the gazebo, alternating between taking photos of the cloudy sky and videos of the gentle breeze that made the branches of the pretty flower bushes surrounding the area dance.

"Harder!"

The camera, following your movement, focused on Jake rather than the white flowers.

"17, 18, 19... 20!"

"Fuck!" Another grunt.

Jake's trainers and fitness team showered him in praise for sustaining yet another repetition of literal gut punches.

But all you could hear was the noises he just made.

Your man glanced over at you and waved, soft giggles completed the picture. He was gesturing something. For someone who spoke so much with his hands, he was not that good at it.

You figured he meant he was almost done. Or so you hoped.

The punches started all over again, but the sound of the gloves hitting Jake's skin and the redness that bloomed over his abs indicated they were going all in for this last set.

You approached the gazebo, attention focusing on the noises that Jake was making and how he scrunched his nose with each punch.

With each grunt too. Was it a subterfuge to distract himself from the pain, to trick his mind and body to take hit after hit?

Your jaw dropped, although only Jake noticed, while you watched them. It was mesmerizing. No, actually, it was hypnotizing.

The ceiling fans could not rotate fast enough to dry the layer of sweat that was all over Jake's body. He contracted his abs with all his might, hands behind his head and torso exposed to receive more torture. The masochistic exercise was sending his brain into overdrive.

You murmured a faint "You're gonna hurt yourself" that got blatantly ignored by everyone in the room. You clutched on your phone harder, as if you were receiving a part of all that pain too. The fingernails of your free hand dug crescent shapes into your palm.

"One more." His opponent was back at it with the assault on Jake's abs. Everybody in the room chanted the last series of numbers until the training was finally over. In between each digit, there was a loud grunt. In between each hit, the veins of Jake's pelvis bulged while pumping all the blood that made his skin a dark share of red.

Everybody but you retreated to one of the many entrances of the gazebo, getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, you leaned on the column for much needed balance.

"That was fantastic!" Jake laughed. His laughter was the only one that sounded genuine. The other guys chuckled, worried, at his appearance. They pointed out how he was "red as shit". To which Jake answered that "We want the movie to be good, you know."

You were concerned, still, but more so turned on by the scene.

The endorphins were hitting Jake hard. You could tell he was worked up in more ways than one. The euphoric giggles and cocky smile, the way he hopped and jogged around the gazebo to keep his body in this momentum. He was not hearing a word that his team was telling him, something about setting up his ice bath, as they exited the area in a cacophony of squeaky shoe noises. The only thing Jake acknowledged was your presence.

You let him walk to you close enough to pull you by the hand so he could kiss your lips.

"I knew it. I knew you wanted to watch." He smirked. "I gave one hell of a good show, didn't I?" He took your phone out of your hand and set it on the bench from where he grabbed a towel to wipe his forehead with. "Don't tell me that's not true, it's written all over your pretty face."

You rolled your eyes, not even trying to stand up for yourself. "So, you're done now?"

Jake shrugged with a not-so innocent grin on his blushing face. "Kinda."

"What do you mean, kinda?" You sighed, annoyed. "If I hear you guys count up to twenty again today, I swear..."

"Ooh, I'm scared." He giggled again. He calmed down and squinted, looking at you through his long lashes. "No counting up."

Your satisfaction with his answer was short lived.

"But we'll count it down."

You watched him while he draped the towel down on the black mats. "Remember when I bet that you wanted to join me today? I was right." He took a step closer to you. "I'm feeling all the good luck running through my veins right now, so I wanna make another bet."

You looked at him with a confused arched brow. Your eyes studied his body. From the messy wet hair, down to the curve of his pecs, and even further down to his swollen abs; your eyes were met with the bulge in his shorts.

"I bet you that I can make you cum," he brought your attention back to his face. "With twenty thrusts."

"Here?" He nodded. His team was not far away, you could hear them dump bags of ice in the converted trash container that was used for temperature shocks. You rolled your eyes. Laughing while taking in so much pain was insane, but not having a care in the world about getting caught was even more insane. "Nah."

"Come on! I know you want to." He repeated the next words in a lower, quieter voice. "I know you want me to fuck you." He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. "Twenty thrusts, that's all I'm asking." Jake loved to work his magic, he knew all too well that this same magic worked every time. Well, almost. "You gonna give it to me? Gonna let me fuck your pretty pussy? Gonna let me show you who you belong to?" The hand that was on your cheek started to travel down your body, following the shape of your stomach until it slid under the hem of your clothes.

You gasped when you felt his warm hand cup your pussy underneath your panties.

He grunted when his fingers dipped ever so slightly in your wetness. "Yeah, you do. You want it so fucking bad." He pushed his middle finger between your folds and teased your clit. "You were getting so worked up from watching me that you had to go play in the flowers like a busy little bee. You couldn't keep your eyes off me for long, huh?"

You cut his monologue short with a passionate kiss. Your tongue invaded his mouth but quickly lost the battle for dominance.

The way you moaned against Jake's lips gave him the unspoken permission pull down your pants after you both kicked off your shoes. He broke the kiss to help you lay down on the towel and remove his shorts too. "I take it as you accept my bet?"

You both laughed while you gently slapped his chest. "Just fuck me already."

"Attagirl." You did not need to say it twice. Jake spread your legs open and positioned himself between them, kneeling and taking deep breaths while he took in the sight of you offering your body to him.

"We gotta be quiet." You reminded him about the risks of getting caught. What a waste of words.

Jake used your wet pussy to jerk off and lube his cock. He looked at you and how you squirmed under him. You were so wet for him, he glided over your folds and clit easily. "Oh yeah, looks like you care so much about being quiet." He didn't give you time to protest, he guided his cock and pressed it against your entrance. "I don't give a fuck if they hear. And judging by how wet you are..." He pushed, slowly, until his tip was inside of your clenching walls. "You want them to hear us too."

You moved on him, helping Jake get all the way inside you. He was surprised, but through a nod you both agreed that the first thrust did not count.

Jake puts his hands on your stomach, keeping you immobile and at his mercy. "Count down for me, baby."

And you did just that, or so you tried. Jake's first five thrusts were slow and deep, he let you get adjusted to his size while he praised you over and over again about how good you felt wrapped around him. He was rock hard, all the stamina built up from his training made it near impossible to hold himself back and stick to his stupid bet.

"Please, harder!"

Jake grunted in response. He obliged, happily. Selfishly, too. He scrunched his nose and bared his teeth with each thrust.

When you called out the number fifteen with a loud and long moan, he switched things up.

He lifted your legs so you could use his body to lean them on. In this position, you were slightly lifted upwards. He pulled almost all the way out and pushed all the way back in your pussy. The angle made your entire body flinch. He waited for you to say the next number out loud, but his patience ran out fast. "We're not even halfway done and you've gone dumb already? That's my good girl."

With the next ten thrusts, Jake successfully fucked the shyness out of you. You counted down from 15 to 5 loud enough to please him and most certainly loud enough to be heard. He was reaching so deep inside of you, that a few of those numbers failed to come out of your mouth. Instead, your incoherent "Ah, ah, ah" drove Jake even crazier and that made him want to keep hitting that sweet spot.

Now, there were five thrusts left. You could tell that Jake was dangerously close to the edge by the way he grunted louder and without any restraint. He was lost in the moment, without a care for the world that surrounded him. All that mattered to him was making you feel good.

"Fuck!" You cried out when his thumb brushed over your untouched clit. "That wasn't part of the," you panted, he rubbed your clit faster. "Of the rules."

"Do I look like I care?" He breathed out. "Look at me."

You batted your cock drunk eyes at him and took in the view. He looked so good, all sweaty and needy from this different, and much more entertaining, form of exercise.

"That's it, forget about it. You don't need to think." He pulled out, leaving just his leaky tip inside your hole. He watched your chest rise and fall with anticipation for the next thrust that followed quickly after.

"5... 4..." You counted along.

"3," Jake counted down with you. His thumb rubbed your clit at the perfect pace and intensity. Your pussy clenched so tight around him that he knew the last couple of thrusts would make it almost impossible not to cum too quickly. You were both so close. "Just like that, baby. You're taking me so fucking good."

"2." Your face twisted into a blissful expression. Nothing else mattered other than your imminent release. You rested your hands on Jake's arms, kind of trying to keep him close but also kind of trying to push him away so you could process the way your body felt in this very moment.

Jake stilled inside of you. The way your walls clenched and relaxed around his cock felt heavenly. He pulled out completely and sat back. He grunted when he caught the view of your pussy, juices leaking down on the towel from your stretched out hole. You looked so tempting, so delicious. If only he had more time, he would devour you like there was no tomorrow. If only. "Ready, baby?"

You nodded, hands reaching in his direction to try and bring him back where you needed him the most, which was balls deep inside of you.

"Yeah, you are." He leaned forward to kiss you, a distraction from the touch of his fingers on your sensitive clit. He needed you closer, impossibly closer, so that he could feel you explode all around him.

You arched your back. He swallowed your moans. Your legs tried to wrap around his waist, you were trying anything to get him to make you see stars.

"I regret this stupid bet." He scoffed. He looked down at his slick covered cock, it was red and veiny like the rest of his abdomen. It throbbed between your bodies. He could not wait any longer. He used his free hand to line himself with your entrance for the last time. He took a deep breath and exhaled when he pushed his cock inside of you.

Inch by inch, you felt all of his length until he bottomed out. With his thumb rubbing your clit, it all felt so intense. You let out your loudest moans yet when you started to cum on his command.

Jake tried to talk you through it, telling you that you were his "perfect cockslut" and that "your pussy was made to take my cum". He slurred his words more than anything.

His voice echoed in your empty mind, so did the sound of his grunts when your clenching walls brought him to his orgasm.

He fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch your reaction to being filled with his load. Jake moaned your name when your pussy relaxed around him. It finally let him move, not that he wanted to.

Your legs fell down on the floor and you laid there, giggling to yourself. Jake lost no time to join you, laughing along while he kissed your lips.

You put one hand on his cheek and the other one on the back of his head, not caring for his sweaty hair. You pulled him closer for another kiss. You wanted this moment to last forever, and, well, you desperately wanted a second round.

"Oh shit." Jake cursed when he was called out for his ice bath again. "Just in time." He pointed out the odd timing, right when you guys finished. The was no way this was a coincidence.

Your eyes widened at the realization. There was no way this was a coincidence. They heard you. They heard it all.

"Coming!" Jake yelled out then exploded in a fit of giggles while he stood up and put his gym shorts back on.

"You're unbelievable." You, finally, laughed along with him while trying to hold your body up on your wobbly knees.

Jake looked down at you and scrunched his nose again. "You look so fucking good down there."

"I know." You agreed.

Jake winked at you, then he told you how you were the unbelievable one. He adjusted himself in his boxers, apprehending the temperature shock that awaited him, but you pushed his hands out of the way.

You licked over his puffy, red abs in a long stripe. You tasted his salty sweat on your tongue while you kept going for as far as you could.

You earned a loud grunt and helping hands to pull you back up on your feet. "You're not shy now, huh?" He smiled from ear to ear while he watched you dress up too. Jake promised himself that he was not going to let this be the only time you licked his sweat like that. You could not get away with doing something so hot.

You caught him staring so you stole a quick kiss from his lips as to not take an even longer and more suspicious amount of time before sending Jake back to his fitness team.

"Don't worry, baby." He tried to reassure you, which worked for a split second. "Everybody already heard you while you were cumming. I'm sure they won't mind if we take a little more time." Jake held your jaw in his hand and planted a long kiss on your lips, making sure you did not wiggle away from him just yet. He called the shots, or so he liked to think, and only pulled away when his named was called out again.

You shooed him away, laughing along.

"Go back to the house and wait for me there, yeah?" He started to jog away from you and exited the gazebo. "I'll need something to warm me up afterwards." He turned around to wink at you and he disappeared from your sight. You could still hear his mischievous giggling while you collected your senses, until the noise was replaced with the group of men loudly discussing the amount of ice to put in the makeshift bath.

You picked up the towel from the floor, hiding the evidence that the drops of his cum left behind, and you grabbed your phone from where Jake left it. You squinted when you noticed how it was propped up against a boxing glove, aimed in the direction where Jake fucked you. You gasped audibly when you discovered that your phone was recording the scene the entire time. You held your phone tightly in your hand and walked out of the gazebo, heart racing and heat radiating from your core.

Jake was right: he would need something warm to help him recover from the ice bath. And with this little video of yours... You knew exactly how to keep his favourite set of holes ready.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader not in the best mental state (esp in first scene).

notes: FINALLY!!! its unedited so bear with me, i dont rlly have time to go through and edit + i've been sick as hell for two weeks straight now. but i hope u guys enjoy!!!

ALEA IACTA EST

You were trapped. 

You didn’t know what sort of witchcraft Pantalone used but you couldn’t leave his wing. You thought you might be going crazy, it took two days of making excuses for you to realize that something was severely wrong, and another three for the anxieties to start embedding in your head. You had your first panic attack in years on the sixth day, and now on the seventh, you were sitting in the small library alone—there was a book in your lap, but the words were swimming off the pages and your head was spinning. 

How was this what he wanted? 

You couldn’t understand how either of you were benefiting from this. He wasn’t getting whatever knowledge he wanted from you and you weren’t getting what you needed to know. You were just stuck here, alone and lost. Not even Pantalone was around for the past few days because he went to finalize a business deal in a Mondstadt port town, he should be coming back soon but even when he did, you knew he wouldn’t spare you much attention. 

How was this what he wanted? You wondered if it was supposed to be some sick sort of torture, wear down your mental fortitude so you’d be more apt to answer the questions he wanted. If that was the case, he would be severely disappointed when you spat in his face the next time he dared to make an appearance. Another part of you wondered if this was just how it would be—he would keep you locked up and alone so he didn’t have to deal with you but he also didn’t have to fear you running off and putting yourself in danger.

The more you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself of both options, and the more you hated your own soulmate. 

Seven days. It had been seven days of being trapped in this place with only Pantalone to occasionally talk to and of the few times he spoke to you, the majority were just of him going on a vicious rant about how the Tianquan of Liyue kept sidelining his proposals and how the wineries of Mondstadt were icing him out of the wine market with Liyue’s merchants. He claimed it was all some big conspiracy against him because there was no reason they should be blatantly disregarding his letters, all of his proposals were mostly targeted for their profit, which the Regrator thought was blasphemous in itself—the Jester apparently cared more for building relationships with the administrative and economic sectors of each of the nations than Pantalone’s dignity as a businessman. You, evidently, did not give him the outraged reaction he wanted and he hadn’t come back to speak with you since, leaving for his meeting across the nation without a word. 

Now you were alone, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you—and you knew it was not Dottore. 

You exhaled as you tried to focus again on the book laying on your lap but your head throbbed and you were forced to avert your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to quell the pain through sheer willpower alone. The Regrator’s library was filled to the brim, but with nothing that would be of use to you trying to figure out how they had trapped you in this sector. Books on economics, the aristocratic families of Snezhnaya, the history of the northern lands and all of the old traditions and folklore that noble children were brought up learning, undoubtedly so he could fine tune that mask of his, pretending that he had always been one of them in order to shear more money from them.

A part of you wanted to warn him that the more he tried to fake it, the more they would ridicule him, but you didn’t want to be totally isolated again as soon as he came back so you figured you’d just let him figure it out himself. 

Regardless, even with the massive amount of books that stacked his library’s walls, not a single one could help you in figuring out this spell. You’d never seen magics like this before—it was not elemental based, it was psyche-based. Every time you got down the hall, to the eighth window from your room to the right, your head started feeling light and dizzy, you felt sick and nauseous and were forced to turn back lest you put yourself in a very, very vulnerable position in a place where you could not afford any vulnerability. 

As nervous as it made you, at first, you found amusement in it. You were irritated and scared, yes, but more than that, you knew that Dottore could feel everything you did. So, you made it your mission to stay right at that eighth window for as long as you possibly could, just because you knew that you were racking your soulmate with that same nausea and dizziness and light-headedness that you were experiencing. 

Now, the amusement was gone and you were just scared. You were scared that you would be trapped here forever, never again to see your mother and your half-siblings and your grandfather. You were scared that you’d disappoint your father, that you wouldn’t be able to succeed in your mission and he would never be able to rest peacefully without justice having been exacted. And as much as you hated him, you were scared that you would never see him again either, that he would just leave you here to rot, live out the rest of your miserable existence confined to a single hall with books that you would rather burn than read. 

You hated that you felt so attached to him already—that even though the thought of him filled you with vile rage and agony, your body still ached for his touch, your eyes still longed for the sight of him walking through the dark doors of the library, and your bond still screamed for you to somehow end this war between the two of you so it could find peace. 

Even if peace negotiations were in your hands, you would still stubbornly throw them out the window, but they weren’t because he continued to completely deny you his presence. You were at his mercy, only when he decided, would a white flag be lifted. 

“Excuse me.”

You stiffened, an unwelcome chill ran down your spine as you looked over your shoulder to where an unfamiliar figure was standing in the doorframe of the library. With golden blonde curls and green eyes, no more than a decade older than you, you thought that the man might’ve been handsome were it not for that there was a dark gleam behind his eyes that reminded you a lot of your step-father, one that promised danger and deceit. 

He smiled and even though his teeth were not sharpened, somehow they looked more like knives than Theta’s did. “You’re the aristocrat from Fontaine that the Regrator took in, no?” 

“I am,” you said. Your voice was hoarse from days without speaking, you cleared your throat, closing the book and placing it down on the couch next to you just in case the man tried to take a seat there with you. “And you are?”

He wasn’t as unfamiliar as you originally believed. You recognized him from the event, standing with the rest of the Harbingers—immediately, you were on edge, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. He came closer to you and you bit the words that tempted to fly from your mouth as he picked up the book you had placed as a deterrent to take a seat on the couch right next to you, too close for comfort. You could feel his thigh brushing yours as he looked to the side to watch you, eyes tracing over your body once before settling on your face.

“Brighella,” he greeted, holding a hand out to you. “Tenth of the Fatui Harbingers, delighted to make your acquaintance.”

You placed your hand in his, albeit reluctantly, watching raptly as he lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently before letting go. His lips were soft and pleasant against your fingers yet it still made your skin crawl. You drew your hand back into your lap immediately, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.

“I was just curious,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “The Regrator is a very proud man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he never responds well to help. It came as a shock to hear that he was taking in an aristocrat from Fontaine as an advisor.”

He was lying—about what, you weren’t sure, but you knew somewhere in that statement of his that there was a lie, and though you had no way of confirming it, you suspected that it had to do with his initial claim: that he was simply curious. 

“He intends to expand the Northland Bank into Fontaine City,” was all you replied with, a thin smile painting your lips. “Even someone as proud and intelligent as him is not capable of such a feat alone, the Court of Fontaine is notoriously anti-Snezhnaya.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Brighella waved off your words and relaxed into the chair next to you, eyes disarmingly beseeching as he watched your reactions. “But we have our own operatives in Fontaine City, I was surprised that he didn’t just come to me for information, rather insulting, actually.”

He laid the information in front of you like meat to seduce a starving beast, all the while he lurked behind the bushes and waited for you to lunge at it so he could drive his blade across your neck as an execution. You didn’t respond, maybe for a second longer than you should have, but the sudden information had thrown you off guard. 

It was him. 

The words rang resounding through your head, Brighella was the one running the Fatui’s operations in Fontaine. Why had he told you? What did he expect to gain from this? There was something you were missing still, but after a week of forced isolation and no progress in your mission, this was like a feast handed to you on a silver platter.

“Perhaps your operatives are just not capable enough for such a scheme,” you said dryly, but your voice sounded vacant even to your own ears, it was clear that you were focused on something else. 

Brighella raised a hand to his chest as if he’d been wounded by your words. “Oh, but the Knave and I had trained so many of them personally,” he sighed. “What use am I to this organization if my colleagues won’t even rely on me or my agents to deliver when necessary?” 

It was a rhetorical question but you didn’t know what to make of it, or of him. Faux-mourning tainted his tone as he spoke, a regretful expression on his face as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling above. 

What was he trying to gain from this? You asked yourself again, more desperately this time. His lips, still tilted up as they’d been this whole conversation, had a bit more of triumph in them than they’d had before and you knew that somewhere you had slipped up, revealing something you shouldn’t have. But you rewound the conversation in your head over and over and over again and you couldn’t quite place where you had. You’d been careful with your words, nothing to set off alarm bells—your cover with the Regrator’s expansion in Fontaine was true, but you were just not being quite as helpful as he would like you to be, and Pantalone was very clear in his opinions on their Fontaine plants and their inadequacy. 

It had to have been your tone, the emptiness in your response to his reveal about his subordinates in Fontaine. It gave away your interest, and you could play it off as if it was just a general interest in how they’d infiltrated Fontaine, but if your stepfather truly was his agent, then he would know very well who you were and your ulterior reasons for being here—or he would at least now have confirmation. 

Pantalone had told you that Pulcinella, Brighella and Tartaglia would be the three Harbingers who would be the least of your worries, but you thought that the Friar was much more dangerous than he made himself out to be. 

How were you supposed to proceed? You tested words on the tip of your tongue but you could not figure out what to say—if you were suddenly interested in him, he would know it was only because of the information he revealed, but if you were cold and distant, you risked him not returning and you needed more information one way or another, even if it meant consorting with a man that made your hair stand on end. 

You didn’t get the chance to speak up again though, as your lips parted to speak, Brighella rose to his feet.

“I should get going. I’d prefer not to draw the ire of my fellow Harbingers, but it was a pleasure talking to you,” he murmured, a small smile and eyes turned upward as he nodded his head down in acknowledgement. “I’ll stop by again soon, it’s cruel of the Regrator and the Doctor to leave you alone the way they have.”

Two days later, the Friar returned. 

You’d spent the two days alone reeling and trying to understand where you had gone wrong and how you could compensate for it. You needed a plan of action, and a fast and efficient one at that. Freezing him out would be stupid, as much as it might be the most comforting course of action, but you also couldn’t just suddenly be trying to get closer to him because he would realize something was up.

You weren’t stupid. If he had truly just been curious about you, he would have come much sooner than he did. He waited because he wanted you to be worn down and utterly alone, so you would latch onto him like he was a buoy in the raging sea. Unfortunately for him, you were far too used to being alone. As agonizing as a week of isolation was, it was not near enough to make you that desperate. 

But he had information you wanted desperately, so you wanted to let him think whatever plan he was concocting was working in hopes that he might reveal more to gain your trust and dependency. You thought it would be a slow and arduous process, not to mention agonizing, but considering neither Pantalone nor Dottore have come to see you in over a week now, you figured you had nothing better to do anyway and this was your best shot at getting what you wanted… and maybe, if you ended up being successful with this, you could free yourself too but you thought that was far less likely.

At the very least, it might force Dottore into action if he thought you were starting to get close with Brighella.

But that was a long shot anyway. Brighella was a type of beast that you were unfamiliar with. He kind of reminded you of some of the crueler members of Fontaine’s aristocracy, the ones who found entertainment in setting up trials that they knew would lead to one terrible sentencing, all the while smiling to the defendants face, but even then they were nothing like this. He was a wolf that portrayed himself as a sheep in the truest sense of the proverb and you just didn’t know what he was capable of, or what he wanted, and that was what scared you most—you didn’t like it when you didn’t know what someone’s intentions were with you.

Your stepfather was easy, all he wanted was more power in Fontaine, evidently to report back to the Fatui for a promotion—you and your father were obstacles in obtaining said power, so he removed your father from being able to influence your mother and you were certain that if you had stayed in Fontaine City, he would have gone after you too.

Dottore was somewhat frank in his intentions with you: he wanted you out of his life so that you couldn’t affect his research but he was keeping you here because he wanted information from you… and a part of you was certain that he was keeping you here also because it prevented you from going out and getting yourself hurt or killed, and that scared you because you didn’t know just how long he planned to keep you isolated here. Or if he ever even planned to release you.

Pantalone had been upfront with you: he wanted a way to get the Northland Bank into Fontaine, you had offered your help in exchange for assistance with removing your stepfather from the courts but you had no intention of giving him any help until he had pulled through on his end. And even then, you had never specified how much help you would give him—you were not going to give the Fatui more of a foothold than they already had. 

Not after what they did to your father. 

Brighella was an unknown. He had come to you with a goal two days ago, and whatever that goal had been, he had achieved it. You still couldn’t figure what it was, even after days of recounting your conversation to figure it out, and that unnerved you more than anything. 

“You actually came back,” you said quietly, eyes flickering up to where Brighella had entered the library. He brought something with him, you couldn’t quite tell what it was but it smelled good, and familiar. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Brighella replied, amused. He came around the couch to sit next to you. He sat closer this time. 

“It’s been two days, I was beginning to doubt.”

“Yes, well, the Regrator grew a bit suspicious when he saw me coming from the direction of his wing, the last thing I needed was to draw his ire. The Doctor already has it out for me even when I do no wrong.” Brighella sounded aggrieved as he spoke but your ears rang loudly at his words. 

“The Regrator already returned from his meeting in Mondstadt?” you asked, keeping your voice free of all tightness but when Brighella only shot you a confused look, one that did not appear to be feigned in the slightest. “Ah, I see.”

There was no meeting in Mondstadt. 

You wondered if it was by Dottore’s will or his own that he had lied and left you here in isolation. You thought it would be easier to believe it was Dottore’s, you had already made him out to be your villain, but you knew better than to assume that. Dottore was obstinate and prideful, yes, but Pantalone was the one who had clawed his way from the bottom tiers of society to the very top, his manipulation would know no bounds—he knew that you were already struggling with Dottore’s refusal to acknowledge you, and he probably thought that his disappearance, after entertaining you for a few days, would put you over the edge.

Jaw tight and trying your best to keep your emotions off of your face lest Brighella take advantage of your distressed realization, you forced yourself to turn your attention back to the Harbinger.

“Here,” Brighella said, passing the covered dish over to you. “Tartiflette, I figure you must be missing home. I hear tartiflette has been rather popular amongst the aristocrats lately.”

I hear. 

Bitterly, you wanted to ask just how he managed to hear that but you refrained. Instead, you glanced down at the dish—it was covered with foil but it smelled good, just like the one you and Sylvie used to get from Cafe Lucerne before your father passed away.

You wondered if it was poisoned, or laced with something, you didn’t exactly put it past Brighella. Even if there were ulterior motives behind him bringing you the dish, it was thoughtful nonetheless. So instead of voicing your suspicions or refusing the dish, you took into your lap, letting the warmth of the bottom of the plate and the familiar scent sink in.

“Thank you.”

Brighella looked pleased, green eyes glittering. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you listened to the way the wind rattled the glass nearby. It was getting late already, you could see the moon rising over the trees in the distance. Nine days now with no word from Dottore at all. You were sure he was probably keeping the segments away from you too because you hadn’t seen a single one since that night.

After a few moments of silence, Brighella asked, “He told you that he had a meeting in Mondstadt?” 

You didn’t respond, you supposed that was answer enough because he let out a heavy sigh. 

“The Regrator does love his underhanded tactics.”

“And you don’t?” you couldn’t help but press, eyeing him curiously.

“I do.” At least he didn’t bother hiding it, shooting you a deceptively friendly smile as he relaxed back into the chair. “But it’s different, my underhanded tactics are for the greater good.”

“Many men have claimed to do terrible things for the greater good,” you murmured. “What makes you different?” 

Your subordinate killed my father, you were saying, tell me how that was for the greater good?

Brighella watched you for a second and then said, “Perhaps you’re right, but I’d like to believe otherwise.”

You hummed, looking away but you could feel that he was still looking at you and it was making you feel antsy, like a cornered animal. 

Finally, Brighella spoke up again. This time, his voice was far more quiet, as if he didn’t want someone listening in. “I wish we had more time to talk instead of rushing straight to business, but I fear that I’m testing many boundaries and patiences by coming to visit you and I’d like for you to understand why I am.” Curiously, your eyes focused onto him, he was still staring at you, watching your reactions. “The Regrator cannot give you what you want. He has no power in Fontaine, nor jurisdiction over any of the subordinates there, that is why he’s coming to you and trying to get your assistance. He does not want to use me as an intermediary for his business.”

There it was. You raised your chin a bit in surprise as Brighella’s words reached your ears and his motives became clearer. You didn’t doubt that there were other ulterior ones that he was keeping to himself, but this one was enough for you to get some clarity on the situation: Brighella and Pantalone were playing a game of chess for Fontaine, and both thought that you would be the piece that would win them the game. 

You realized, slowly, that you might just have a bit more power than you realized, and that Pantalone had been trying to keep you ignorant to it. 

It also gave you more insight on the Fatui itself, and more specifically, the relationship between the Harbingers. You had a feeling that the camaraderie shown during the event was just a show but you hadn’t thought the rivalry ran so deep as to having Harbingers competing for power through using outside sources. 

You wondered if Brighella realized just how much he had revealed to you. From the steady look in his eyes as he watched you, he very much did. You wondered then why, because it had to be something beyond just trying to get you to not help Pantalone—unless he was that desperate to keep Fontaine in his grasp. But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally responded with, pointedly meeting his eyes. 

He was studying you carefully and finally, he nodded, rising to his feet. “It’s alright. I’ll come back soon and give you some time to think. Just remember, what the Regrator promised you is not something he is able to give at this point and time. He’s making you think that you are the one dependent on him but without your cooperation, he doesn’t have a foothold in Fontaine, which is what he desperately wants.”

You didn’t respond as he walked out of the room, but before he stepped through the door, he turned to look at you one last time, “Enjoy the tartiflette—perhaps next time, I’ll bring you an even grander gift.”

You were not in the library the next time Brighella came to visit. You were lounging in your room preparing for bed when the knock came at your door. For a second, just a second, you might’ve hoped that it was Dottore, finally ending the war between the two of you—but as you called for the person to come in, and a head of curly blonde hair and green eyes peeked from around the door, the bit of hope that had sprung up withered in an instant. 

“May I?” Brighella asked, motioning for him to come into your room.

How improper, you thought to yourself, trying to force away the heat that rose to your cheeks. But you needed to keep talking to him, milk him for all that he knew before you made a decision about what you were going to do. 

“Of course,” you responded with, watching him carefully as he slipped into the room and made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat on the window nook next to where you were sitting at your vanity, leaning back on his hands as he studied you carefully. 

“Have you thought about my proposal yet?” Brighella murmured, his eyes were intense as he watched you, you could barely even hold his gaze and you had never had trouble holding anyone’s gaze before. 

You had. Of course, you had. With the newfound knowledge of Pantalone’s inability to actually get you what you want without you giving him what he wanted first, everything changed. Your whole position in this situation changed. You were still a prisoner, naturally, but you were a prisoner with power right now. You had two different Harbingers vying to acquire your support. It could change in a second, you knew that, you couldn’t get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t just disregard the opportunity this presented.

You also could not take everything Brighella said at face value. 

You remembered the look in his eyes when you first met him, the skeevy one that reminded you of your stepfather and all of the other men and women in your life who had done terrible, terrible things without remorse. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied instead, and Brighella sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

“Ah, I see,” Brighella said. “I haven’t quite gained your trust yet—well, perhaps this will change that.”

From his pocket, Brighella pulled out a piece of parchment, sealed with a wax Fatui insignia. He held it out to you and you reached out cautiously, taking it into your hands and turning it over to view the blank back of the parchment. You had no way of knowing the contents of it without breaking the wax seal, you looked up at Brighella, questioningly. He looked pleased, a small smile teasing at his lips. 

“This is a letter I have addressed to a particular subordinate of mine stationed down in Fontaine,” Brighella explained, leaning his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on his knee as he watched you. You could only barely bite back the sharp intake of breath as you looked down at the parchment again. “Yes, yes, I know, you don’t know what I’m talking about. But hypothetically, if you did, I was willing to gift you one of two options.”

“What are these hypothetical options?” you asked, your knuckles just a bit too tight around the parchment to pass it off as normal.

“You can keep that letter, and we can work together as partners. I can work with the Knave to set up a mission with the Jester and the Tsaritsa to have you head back to Fontaine, where you can use the letter as evidence to put said subordinate on trial before the Hydro Archon and Chief Justice,” Brighella said, your throat felt tight and swollen, your lips on the verge of trembling. 

Everything you wanted, but there had to be a catch. You knew better. For all you knew, the contents of the letter was empty, he could let you go down to Fontaine only to make you look like a fool when you presented the letter as evidence. 

“The second option?” you asked, proud that your voice remained steady and void of the turbulent emotions rushing through you.

“I will send it south and summon him back to Snezhnaya. You can exact your own justice here.”

What was the catch?

There had to be a catch, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out. You knew it was something more than just preventing Pantalone from stepping into his territory but Brighella was impossible to read and far more unpredictable than you expected. You were baffled that he would go to this length to try to get you to trust him. 

“You can hold onto the letter until you’ve made your decision, I-”

“My, my,” a familiar, smooth voice drawled. “What is this?”

At once, your blood ran cold as you looked up to see a familiar figure standing in your doorframe, violet eyes cold and cruel as he stared at where you were sitting with Brighella. Brighella only smiled thinly, mocking, as he looked at Pantalone and said: “Regrator, I hope you don’t mind me spending time with your new advisor, she’s quite the lovely little thing. I’m rather fond of her.”

“Is that meant to mean much?” Pantalone asked dryly, the smile on his lips tightening at the corners and you braced yourself for whatever he was about to say. “You’re fond of everything with two legs that will open for you.”

Your face felt hot, fingers tightening around the parchment as his words registered. Two legs that will open? 

How dare he?

Who does he think he is?

The barrage of livid questions battered your head, begging to be let loose but you bit your tongue, sharpening it as you instead responded with: “How crude, I know you had an unfortunate upbringing but I thought you’d learned better by now than to speak every vile word that crosses through that repulsive mind of yours.”

Next to you, Brighella hid his smile behind his hand and you at least felt a little validated even as Pantalone’s eyes bore down into you, you could see the promise for bloodshed barely veiled beneath his calm expression. 

“I’ll take my leave.” Brighella rose to his feet and to your horror, he leaned in close to you, taking both of your hands in his and you wanted to pull away, ask him what the hell he was thinking, but the words died on your tongue as he took the parchment from your hand before Pantalone could catch sight of it, subtly letting it drop to the floor before using his foot to slip it beneath the bed. His lips flickered upward. “Think about what I said. I’ll come by again.”

“No, you will not,” Pantalone interjected coolly. “I believe I have mentioned before that you are not welcome in my wing of the palace, Friar.”

“Then I will send one of my subordinates to fetch her to bring her to mine.” Brighella waved off the comment. “It’s no bother.”

He directed a faux-smile toward Pantalone as he slipped past the other Harbinger and left the room, leaving you alone with him. Pantalone stared after Brighella for a moment before turning his attention on you. 

You raised your chin and asked sweetly, “How did your business deal down in Mondstadt fare?” knowing damn well that there was no business deal down in Mondstadt.

He very clearly understood what you were getting at, the sweet smile on his lips just as fake as your tone as he said, “Very well.”

“I’m sure.”

The mockery in his eyes slowly slipped away the longer he stared at you—he wanted to say something, that was for sure, but he either didn’t know how to say it or he couldn’t, and you had a distinct feeling that Pantalone spoke more than he breathed so finding a way to say it was not the problem, he felt that he couldn’t. 

“The Friar is not to be trusted,” he finally decided. 

“There is not a single soul within this palace that is to be trusted,” you countered icily. 

He smiled, but the smile did not meet his eyes. “Fair enough.” 

There was a quiet tone to his voice, you wondered if any of Brighella’s statements held any truth to them, if he was worried that you would side with the Tenth instead of him, and he would lose his shot at expanding the Northland Bank into Fontaine. 

Something wicked swam in his eyes as his gaze cast over where you were sitting once more, voice more scathing now. “I do wonder how the Doctor will feel about your newfound relationship with the Friar,” and you realized that the Regrator did not fret over anything. And if he was backed into a corner like a wounded animal, he would lash out ten times as deadly. 

He was threatening to tell Dottore if you did not speak to his liking, if you did not dismiss Brighella’s option. 

Your eyes widened, just a bit—you knew there was nothing wrong with what you’d been talking about with the Friar. Dottore knew that you were here for one thing, and one thing alone: obtaining the evidence to convict your stepfather of your father’s murder. But you had a feeling that Pantalone would be spiteful and describe what he had walked in on as not what really happened, he’d put it in the worst light possible and blow the slim chance you had for Dottore ever showing up…

Or, it would finally force him into action. 

It was a risky gamble—one that you weren’t sure if you should take. Dottore was prideful and stubborn and you didn’t know how far it extended. It could blow up in your face, or it could finally get you what you wanted: the upperhand. 

You had never been a gambling woman before, but ever since you got to Snezhnaya, you were being put into situations forcing you to change and adapt just so you could survive, so you could bring justice to your father.

You didn’t think you liked the person who you were becoming, but you didn’t think you had a choice.

You smiled at Pantalone, but the smile was as empty as you felt. 

“I don’t particularly care what the Doctor feels concerning my relationship with Brighella. Tell him whatever you please, do pass on my regards to the younger segments though.”

“I must say your soulmate truly is a little spitfire, she has proven it time and time again.”

Dottore sighed as he looked up from his vial, heavy eyes focusing on Pantalone as the man slunk into his labs as if he owned them. His smile was tight and his eyes were not in the typical upturn they usually turned up whenever he was amused—whatever you had said to him had severely pissed him off, it nearly made his own lips twitch upward, wondering what exactly you had said to get under his skin so badly. 

“And what did she say this time?” Dottore drawled, not even bothering to feign curiosity, placing the vial back down on the burner as he looked up at Pantalone, whose eye twitched at the question. 

“It’s about time you stop playing this game with her, Doctor.” Was all Pantalone said in response, observing a failed, burnt test subject disdainfully, poking at it with a long, gloved finger before drawing his gaze back up to Dottore. 

“And here I thought you were playing the same game,” Dottore dismissed, although he would beg to differ that it was not a game, but the last thing he wanted was to get into a battle of semantics with Pantalone. “Was that not why you’ve been loitering around my labs this past week?”

“Yes, I was,” Pantalone agreed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Dottore suspicious, “and it backfired. A certain snake rose from the grasses to take advantage.”

“Hm?” Dottore tilted his head to the side, red eyes narrowing as Pantalone’s words registered.

“Now is not the time for your stubbornness, Doctor,” the banker warned. “Continue to disregard her and she will turn to someone else… or I suppose, she already has. I caught her acting rather intimately with the Friar in her quarters just before I came here.”

Dottore’s lips flattened and his eyes went cold, Pantalone caught the physical reaction, eyebrows shooting upward, mockingly. But Pantalone could only see the physical reaction, he could not feel how Dottore’s blood somehow felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time, he could not see how his vision tunneled and he could not hear how his ears were ringing. 

Intimately?

There it was again—that prideful and possessive feeling rearing its ugly head. You were his, only by fate and by chance, but you were his nonetheless, even if he was loathe to admit it. He ignored the hypocrisy of his thoughts, you were his and yet he had ignored you for over a week? He was laying claim to you after all of his denial and anger?

He had been doing what was right, separating himself from you to prevent the bond from getting any stronger. He wasn’t playing the same game that Pantalone was, isolating you to try to make you more malleable to his requests when he finally came back around; Dottore did not play games, not with anyone, much less with you. 

But was he okay with you turning your attention elsewhere with his absence?

No. No, he was not. The thought filled him with an emotion he hadn’t felt in over four hundred years, not since his years as a Fatui recruit before he’d learned to separate himself from his emotions.

“She asked for me to pass on my regards to the younger segments.” Pantalone smiled as he spoke, knowing that the words were bound to set Dottore off even more because how dare you send your regards to the children as you let another man into your quarters. “I’ll be heading to my office now. I have some paperwork to finish filling out. Do think on what I said, I expected a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine to come out of this arrangement. If it does not, you will have to make up for it.”

“Your expectations are not my responsibility,” Dottore said, voice clipped and icy and far more strained than he meant for it to be. 

Pantalone only let out a huff of laughter as he spun on his heel, shooting Dottore one last long look that had Dottore’s body begging for violence as a response. Nearly twenty years of him being forced into a corner because of you, and it was only getting worse.

“It is in this situation,” he said as he made his way out of the lab as quickly as he had come, leaving Dottore there alone with raging thoughts and turbulent emotions. 

The Friar. 

Brighella. 

Lip curled up in a type of rage he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, he finished putting his equipment away and reached for his mask, intent on heading to your quarters himself to understand just what was going on between you and the Tenth. 

It was the first time you’d been in Snezhnaya where there hadn’t been a storm battering the night. Once the Regrator had left you to your business, and you were finally able to finish getting ready for bed, you curled up at the window nook to look outside, where the air was still bitter and cold but the harsh winds had subsided and the moon was reflecting prettily over the frozen lake north of the palace. 

It looked calm and peaceful—you thought there was a beauty to Snezhnaya that was unique. The Hydro Archon and her acolytes liked to frame the nation as one big frozen wasteland but the more time you spent there, the more you realized that it was just not true. It was frozen, yes, but there were towering trees and massive lakes, the snow sparkled beneath the sun and moon in a way you’d never seen before.

You pressed the pad of your finger against the glass, a longing feeling sweeping over you as your eyes focused on the line of trees on the opposite side of the frozen lake. You thought that this might be your chance—the storms had subsided, you could make a break for it, but you knew deep down that the lack of storm was a deception you couldn’t afford to fall for. Just because the winds had died and the snow and ice had stopped falling, it didn’t mean that it was safe enough to travel through. You would still freeze. Perhaps if you had a pyro vision, it would be different but your hydro vision would do nothing to protect you against the cold.

You sighed, laying your forehead against the window and letting the chilly feeling spread through you, a stark contrast from the warmth of the fireplace emanating throughout your room. 

You wondered if you made a mistake. You had antagonized Pantalone, and he had likely antagonized Dottore on your behalf. It had felt good in the moment—a sharp jab that relieved some of the heavy pressure that isolation had put on you, but now the pressure was back and worse than before. 

You were not wondering. You knew it had been a mistake. 

Even if Brighella had been telling the truth and you held more power than Pantalone was leading you to believe, you couldn’t afford to isolate yourself from the option he presented. Dottore clearly trusted him enough to trust him with you, which you thought was about the biggest show of trust anyone could get from the Second.

And neither of them trusted Brighella. 

Your pride and anger had gotten the best of you—they had gotten the best of you when you had thought you had been in control. You laid everything out logically, convinced yourself that the option Brighella posed was just as appealing as Pantalone, forgetting that at the very least, Dottore and Pantalone were known threats to you. That yes, Pantalone wanted to use you and Dottore wanted nothing to do with you, but neither of them would risk your safety. Brighella was an unknown, just a charming and manipulative one that knew precisely when and how to strike.

You weren’t cut out for this. You let your eyes slide shut as you tried to force away the tears building in them. Frustration, anger, desperation, they were all becoming too much for you to handle. You didn’t know what to do. If Brighella was telling the truth, he really was the key to getting what you want, but you couldn’t trust him, you didn’t know what his motives were. Behind the pretty eyes and glittering smile was a snake with venomous fangs that could clamp down at any moment. 

You thought the courts of Fontaine had prepared you for this but the Snezhnayan court and the heart of the Fatui was a beast that you were not equipped to deal with. The courts of Fontaine were a beast, you would never think otherwise, but you’d been foolish enough to let yourself believe that they were similar enough to Snezhnaya’s that you’d be able to handle it. 

In Fontaine, your name had power and words were as sharp and lethal as daggers—as long as you put on a pretty mask and an entertaining performance, you would survive, but the aristocrats and observers of justice would eat alive anyone who could not put on a convincing and beguiling show.

In Snezhnaya, your name meant nothing and the only coat of protection you could place over yourself was Dottore’s position in the Fatui, and his forced bond to you. Your mask was shattering the longer you were stuck in the cold, and the entertaining performances you were so adept at putting on were becoming more pathetic than anything else. Danger lurked around every corner, not even just those who wanted to kill you as a means to weaken the Doctor, but also those who hated you for the country you come from. You had seen the way one of the Harbingers had looked at you during the event, and having even one Harbinger against you meant that you had hundreds of subordinates out for your throat to try to gain her approval. 

You were well beyond your depth. A vast ocean all around you and the currents were dragging you under, water filling your lungs as you tried to thrash your way back to the surface but there was an anchor chained to your ankle that you simply couldn’t fight against. 

You took in a deep, shuddered breath. You thought back to the old prophecy, the one that whispered that one day Fontaine and all of its citizens would be washed away by the rising waters, drowned by that which is supposed to protect them, finding their eternal rest in the sands until they became one with the sea. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was a literal or metaphorical fate, you had always taken it as literal and dismissed it as an old wives’ tale, but now you were questioning everything you held as true: you felt like you were drowning, your identity dissolving as the water closed in around you, and you felt helpless to it, just like how the ancient prophecy threatened.

Finally, you raised your head and looked back outside, eyes widening when you caught sight of a figure standing in the frame of your door through the reflection of the window, tall and imposing. You hadn’t even heard the door open. Even with the mask, you could feel the coldness behind his gaze. 

He only spoke one word:

“Come.”

reblogs appreciated!

[tiredfox64]

I saw someone do a similar thing where reader is dating johnny and uses bi han to make him jealous but there's was online can u do a bi han x fem reader where she tries to make johnny jealous with bi-han at johnnys OWN party and bi han basically kicks Johnny's ass

Pathetic

Prior notes: We can never give this man a break.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warning‼️: A little bit of violence

Your relationship with Johnny is…well…it sure is a relationship by definition.

He never has time for you. It’s either obsessing over getting a role in the newest movie, staying relevant on Twitter, or stalking his ex-wife on social media. You don’t know why you still bother being with him at this point. You’re not mad that he still cares about his ex but blatantly ignoring you just to make sure he still has a high follower count is plain rude.

No amount of gifts or luxurious vacations can make you forget how shitty this relationship is. Forget about communicating with him. You told him a number of times how you just want to go on a simple date or spend the night together, but it always turns into this elaborate date night that would be a great post for Instagram. It’s tiring. It’s draining. It’s not what you want. You want better.

That does it! You did every healthy option that you were told and knew. You’re gonna have to manipulate the situation a little. Johnny is having a party at his mansion tomorrow, work with that. You might find yourself a better bachelor to enjoy.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Bi-Han was not keen on coming to Johnny’s party but Tomas so badly wanted to go. Kuai Liang did not want his younger brother to get into any trouble at the party so he dragged Bi-Han to come with them. Plus, it was probably a good time to make Bi-Han apologize for breaking Johnny’s Hichuli. It was one of a kind after all.

The place was blaring with music and reeked of vodka with a hint of boxed wine. This was definitely not his scene. He just stepped into the mansion and he already wanted to go home. He told Tomas they would only stay for an hour or two so he better make the most of it. Oh and don’t even try to touch the alcohol because it’s not the best quality. Not even the vodka. It’s not Tito’s so it’s shit.

Bi-Han walked over to a secluded corner of the mansion where he plopped down on the couch. He sat there, scowling at everyone with his arms crossed. Kuai Liang told him to fix his face since he was freaking people out. That’s exactly the point. He doesn’t want anyone around him or even try to bother him.

But you? Oh, you’re trying to poke the bear. Trying to poke two bears with the shit you’re about to pull.

You eyed Bi-Han from a distance. Ever since he first walked in you knew he would be your target. His strong facial features, that stance that radiated superiority and dominance, those muscles…good heavens…you were missing out. You had no idea how Johnny knew him but it didn’t matter. You were just happy that you had the chance to lay your eyes upon him. The way he sat enticed you. Legs that were slightly spread as his arms were folded, giving you another opportunity to see just how large his muscles are.

You totally forgot your objective. You’re trying to make Johnny jealous, not find yourself another boyfriend. You just want Johnny to pay attention to you again. Well, if it doesn’t work out, you at least know you have your eyes on someone else.

You walked over to Bi-Han, ignoring his aggressive stare. He was hoping you would turn away soon and not approach him but that clearly wouldn’t happen. You sat down beside him. Damn, he was even more handsome up close.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, stranger. What’s with that grumpy face?” You teased

He groaned while turning his head away from you. First try didn’t hit the mark. It’s okay, try again.

“Aww don’t be shy. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m only trying to be nice. You seemed lonely over here.” You started poking his bicep to tease him more.

“I prefer to be alone. There is no reason you should be here. Go back to drinking with the other imbeciles.”

“Do you see a cup in my hand? I don’t want to drink. I don’t even wanna be at this party.” You sighed in annoyance.

Bi-Han cocked his eyebrow up in interest. He was unsure if you were lying or not. Seeing your expression, however, told him that you were telling the truth. You seem bothered. He doesn’t want to care but he’s curious. Why would a pretty girl like you be so turned off by a party?

“Why are you here then?” He asked.

“My stupid boyfriend keeps throwing parties just to keep his social status up. Or maybe to make his ex jealous. I don’t even know anymore.”

Well, at least he knows who you are now. Johnny never said a word about you to anyone which let him know how you must be feeling. Poor thing, you must be deprived of many things. Bi-Han already had a grudge against Johnny from their first encounter. But getting an idea of how he was treating you just by what you said made him hate the guy even more.

You were surprised to feel Bi-Han’s arm slowly wrap around your shoulders and pull you in closer. Your plan seems to be going well. Except you forgot your goal again. You were more focused on how your body was pressed up against his. He wasn’t looking at you since he was somewhat embarrassed that he was caring at all. But you seem like a nice girl so he can take some time to give you what Johnny couldn’t. He can give you attention.

Maybe he’ll extend their visit to three hours.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Things happen, that’s all I gotta say.

You somehow ended up on Bi-Han’s lap with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs draped over his legs. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist while the other held onto your thighs.

You went on and on about your lackluster relationship with Johnny. Of course, you would switch topics occasionally, talking about your hobbies which Johnny would never pay any mind to. Bi-Han sat there and listened to what you were saying. Though he did get distracted occasionally by your thighs that he would occasionally squeeze or how close your chest was to his face.

Johnny was going around, asking people if they had seen you. He walked through the crowd while calling your name. Finally he spotted you…on Bi-Han’s lap. He was shocked. This anger inside Johnny started rising up inside him. First Bi-Han comes to his mansion and destroys his Hichuli. Now he is trying to steal his girl! Fuck that!

Johnny came stomping over, yelling at you to get off his lap. It’s been five hours and only now Johnny thought about checking up on you. You two start arguing loudly. You told him you’ll get off when you feel like it. He told you to get off right this moment. The arguing was bringing the party to a halt, causing everyone to turn their heads towards you. Shit, they didn’t even know he was dating you. Bi-Han was not happy about the attention that was being turned towards this direction.

Johnny yanked you off Bi-Han’s lap while quickly pissed him off. He stood up quickly while glaring at Johnny for putting his hands on you. Johnny turned his attention to Bi-Han.

“You come into my mansion, break my stuff, then try to steal my girl? You know what, fuck yo—”

BAM! Bi-Han punched Johnny right in the face. It disoriented him immediately which allowed Bi-Han to kick him right in the face, sending him sliding across the floor. Straight to sleep, man was knocked out. You stood there in shock yet you were also impressed. It only took two hits and Johnny was down. He was sober as well so this wasn’t a drunk blackout.

“I expected better from you, Cage. I see it was foolish of me to set the bar so high,” Bi-Han berated him, “Kuai Liang! Grab Tomas, we are leaving.”

Kuai Liang quickly grabbed Tomas who was stumbling a bit. He was slurring his words while saying “I’m so happy you are my brothers” and “I’m sorry I drank that. It tasted like juice.” Before they left Bi-Han turned towards you and motioned for you to come. You pointed at yourself in confusion.

“Do you wish to stay with him?” He asked.

You glanced at Johnny who was still on the ground. Nah, you’ll go. You could go for a stronger man. Good riddance Johnny, hellooooooo Bi-Han.

After notes: This is the first time I’ve actually written on my laptop and then transferred it over here. I was using Notes before and imma be honest I think my notes app is ready to die. It’s just a bunch of fanfic in there and lists of analog horror series and kaijus. I hope i understood what you meant because I had to reread it multiple times to get it. I think it’s a me problem. Adiós!

[yuzurins]

# i’m smitten with the thought of you

itoshi rin x gn!reader. sae and rin don’t have an estranged relationship. childhood friends to (eventual) lovers. crack don’t take this too srsly pls

“rin, say ahh!” you hold out a spoonful of cake in front of his face.

“shut the fuck up.” rin pouts, turning his head away from you.

you snicker, but your hand doesn’t falter. “come on! you know you want it~” you tease, dragging the end of the sentence as if you were talking to a small child.

he keeps his mouth shut, and you gush internally at the fact that he’s blatantly sulking. rin will never beat the allegations for being the cutest boy ever, even if he’s not the same as the sweet little boy you knew years ago.

desperately trying to hold back a laugh, you purse your lips and mimic rin’s little pout. “you used to listen to me much more obediently when you were younger.”

“you-“ you shoved the spoon into his mouth as soon as you get the chance. rin reluctantly complies but is quick to complain after. “that’s foul!”

you raise an eyebrow. “and that’s what the naughty boys get. tsk tsk.”

it’s obvious you don’t understand how wrongly your words could be interpreted by the way your expression stays unwavering. perhaps it was your dense disposition, or the fact that you’ve known rin since he was a kid in preschool.

rin thinks he’s being — and has been — painfully obvious about his feelings, yet you still fail to notice the faint blush creeping onto his face. even sae found out about it, and rin had to fight for his life to defend himself.

“rin. that’s practically incest-“

“oh my god nii-chan, you know that’s not true!”

sae can think you’re like a sibling to him, but rin doesn’t. in fact, he has never. he can’t deny that he’s had a crush on you the moment you were introduced to him as sae’s friend, and though it might seem like it was just puppy love, his current actions can prove that it isn’t.

“and you used to be so well-behaved back then.” you sigh dramatically. “did you know you would stick to me all the time, and get super jealous whenever i did anything with sae?”

the younger boy scoffs, standing up to go get a drink of water to make sure he doesn’t go insane from your ruthless teasing.

“hey! don’t run away!” you smile, eyes twinkling in amusement, as you get up to follow him. “it was really cute, i swear!”

choosing not the humour you, rin continues on with his task (that he could not care less about), humming in response.

you stand next to him and watch, occasionally feeling the need to poke him. starting from his arm, you string a line of pokes all the way up to his face, where you change your stance to pinch his cheek, a frequent action of endearment you used to do when you were younger.

needless to say, you were not expecting rin to grab your hand so promptly. and you most definitely were not expecting him to then lean towards you, not stopping until his face was merely an inch away.

“woah-“ you exhale as you stumble back slightly. he’s close enough for you to study all the details of his face, from the strands of his hair to the sharp curve of his jaw. he towers over you, his broad shoulders wide enough to engulf you completely into his presence. it’s funny, this scene is the complete opposite of what it was like as children, your roles entirely switched.

your breath hitches as his gaze locks onto yours, showing you all his pent-up feelings over the years for the first time. he’s determined, you can tell at least that much, but what surprises you the most is how dilated his pupils are; his eyes are begging to let you know his story, one of his long, endless pining for you, and you only.

it goes without saying you weren’t ignorant enough to overlook the reality that rin grew up, that he’s matured now. would it be cowardly for you to admit that you have indeed taken notice of his feelings at times, but refused to act on them in fear of losing him? what if you were wrong? what if rin didn’t like you that way? there was too much on the line, and you didn’t want to risk every memory you’ve made with him and sae for the past 12 years.

like an unspoken condition between you two, rin also knows the risks. he knows, but he’s so smitten it’s driving him insane. you’re a risk that he’s willing to take, and he’s had his mind made up since the beginning.

“yeah?” he whispers. “how about now?”

dumbstruck, you nod absentmindedly in response. almost like you were under a spell, and rin was the mastermind enchanting you.

rin smirks at the sight of your face heating up and flushing to a light red. “you still think i’m cute, y/n?”

“the cutest ever.” you’re quick to recover, flashing a small smile of your own. shameless, but you refuse to concede now. “care to prove me wrong, itoshi?”

“what the fuck are you two doing in the kitchen, oh my god.” sae deadpans. “rin, please pick and choose a better time to confess your feelings, thanks.”

you jump. rin groans.

“you need to pick and choose a better time to interrupt, THANK YOU.” rin scowls, letting go of your hand. the sudden withdrawal of his warmth disappoints you, but you smile nonetheless hearing their brotherly antics.

sae’s impassive, walking in between the two of you to refill his own water. “you two forgot all about me, i was getting worried that rin might’ve killed y/n or something.”

“as if!” rin rolls his eyes. “get out of here, at least let me finish.”

shooting him a quick side-eye, sae smirks at his little brother. “okay loverboy, just make sure to not make a mess in the kitchen.” and he swiftly makes an exit before any further retaliation.

“i hate him.”

“you know you don’t.”

rin sighs, closing his eyes for a few seconds.“i guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

you laugh, and grab his hand to play with his fingers, a not very subtle attempt to hide your beet red face. “think it was obvious enough, rinnie.”

his heart throbs at your use of his childhood nickname. “took you long enough.”

“so, will you continue to show me how cute you are?” you ponder as you look up at rin.

“stop treating me like a child, jeez.” and that pout is back onto his face once again. “i’ll show you anything you want, but i’ll make sure you won’t see me as just a cute little boy anymore.”

a/n: this was so crack of me. not proofread btw i wrote this in one sitting. ^_^ @kouyun <3

[xileonaaaa]

Thinking of Ino admiring a foreigner that he finds attractive..

Nothing negative to say about him, no one ever writes about him though.

──────⋆⋅☼⋅⋆──────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ino!Takuma who had successfully convinced Nanami to treat him to dinner after he’d successfully gotten promoted to a grade 1 sorcerer.

Ino!Takuma who was halfway through stuffing his mouth full of stewed beef, when he saw you and your pretty friends flow into the restaurant.

Ino!Takuma who nearly choked on his food, and had to struggle to swallow everything so he could get a good look at you.

Ino!Takuma who was probably drooling, just like in those cartoons he still watches to this day, but he couldn’t help himself, nor could he look away. You were….beyond just the average beauty, you were gorgeous. The way your skin seemed to glow in the yellow lights of the restaurant made Ino’s stomach start doing flips.

Ino!Takuma who began hastily wiping his mouth as he eyed where the waiter was going to seat you and your little party.

Ino!Takuma who paused for a second, wondering, more like hoping and praying, that you didn’t have a boyfriend.

Ino!Takuma who gave a quick glance over to a very confused, and tired looking Nanami before getting up and dusting himself off. He still had on his work clothes, but that was okay, he just had to get your number.

Ino!Takuma who began walking over to where you were situated, but ended up stopping just short of where your booth was, his initial self confidence gone up in smoke right before his very eyes. He still had on his work clothes…what if he smelt bad? What if you just laughed at him when he asked for your number? What if you really did have a boyfriend-

Ino!Takuma who spun around just as quickly as he’d gotten up, before plopping back down in his seat across from Nanami.

Ino!Takuma who just picked back up his chopsticks, and popped some more meat that Nanami had taken off the grill, into his mouth. Yeah, that’s right. Who was kidding? He sure as hell had zero chance with someone like you.

Ino!Takuma who blatantly ignored Nanami’s questionable gazes aimed towards him, and just continued on stuffing his face with food. (His very obvious glances your way ended up giving away what he was pouting over.)

Ino!Takuma who couldn’t spend even five minutes in silence, before he began ranting to Nanami about how you just had to be this over the top, name brand model, and how stupid he’d look if he even thought about trying his shot with you.

Ino!Takuma who ended up pausing mid sentence because his stomach started to make very questionable sounds.

Ino!Takuma who made quite a scene when he leapt up from his seat, excused himself from Nanami, and dashed to the bathroom. (He hadn’t chewing his food properly.)

Ino!Takuma who spent the better have of 15 minutes hurled up in the bathroom, literally fighting for his life. (Not that you would know that.)

Ino!Takuma who finally emerged from the men’s restroom, trying his best to look normal.

Ino!Takuma who took his seat in from of Nanami, and suddenly realized that he’d completely lost his appetite. (He was glad Nanami ordered to-go boxes.)

Ino!Takuma who was about to get back up, but was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder. Thinking it was Nanami for some reason, he was about to spurt some nonsense, but fell silent the moment he locked eyes with you.

Ino!Takuma who didn’t even realize he was staring with his mouth wide open, until you gently shut it for him.

Ino!Takuma who was literally shaking when the two of you exchanged phone numbers.

Ino!Takuma who walked out of that restaurant with the biggest grin on his face. (While Ino was in the bathroom shitting his guts out, Nanami had taken the initiative to tell you about Ino’s failed plans. He was happy it worked out.)

[sie-rui]

❀ SISTER, SISTER (REWRITE) | TOKYO REVENGERS 🤍 sano family 💿  female reader, second pov (you/your), angst and fluff, hurt / comfort, family, platonic relationship, implied soulmates, tw: canonical character death, au - canon divergence, timeline: pre-canon (headcanon), timeline: pre-moebius (imagine), headcanon + imagine 📅 july 21, 2021 🎙️ i accidentally deleted this. i had to rewrite… if someone has the original copy, please i beg of you, SEND it to me. i don’t really care if you plagiarized it or something, just give me the copy i beg. I had a breakdown because of this. 🔗 masterlist ,, parts: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05

Sano Shinichiro’s best friend isn’t just his platonic soulmate, they’re also his younger sibling’s older sister.

☆ Sano Shinichiro has a lot of tight-knit relationships (4lifers, some may say), but there is one that everyone unanimously agreed was his closest one.

☆ It was a wonder to some how the two of you become such close companions. To some, after seeing Sano Shinichiro with you, they easily understood.

☆ Meeting in school as his underclassman, it didn’t take long for you to get roped into his gang’s bullshit. It wasn’t that you were an official member but you were definitely someone. Someone to Sano Shinichiro. Someone.

☆ Sano Shinichiro is batshit crazy, especially during his younger years. It just so happened that you were crazy as well.

☆ In high school, you guys were definitely uncontrollable. Whatever Shinichiro did, you tagged along.

☆ As you grew older, the both of you were definitely calmer, outgrowing that childish recklessness the both of you had always shared.

☆ It was love. Not romantically, but it was love. The kind of love that Shinichiro was sure that in some other universe, the two of you were together as well.

☆ When someone tried insinuating that the two of you could start dating each other, the response was instant.

“With this asshole?” “With this bitch?”

☆ Shinichiro wonders if the reason why he’s always getting rejected by girls is because you’re always with him. You scoffed.

“Trust me, it’s not me. They just don’t like you.” “I have a great personality!” “Well your face isn’t that great.”

☆ Once Shin introduced you to his family, it was all over.

☆ Mikey had no reaction to your presence in the house at the start, blatantly ignoring you, giving you dead-eyes. You coddled on him, to his chagrin.

☆ Emma, on the other hand, adored you. To the point that Shinichiro and Manjiro wondered if this was really their sister.

☆ You managed to bribe Mikey with sweets. Not that you needed to because when he saw you picking on Shinichiro, he loved you already.

☆ As much as they want you to be a part of the family officially, they begged you not to marry their brother.

“Honestly, you can do better, Y/n-nee.” “Yeah. Shinichiro isn’t worth it.” “I’m right here?!” “We know.”

☆ Shinichiro thinks that they love you more than they love him. He doesn’t quite mind.

☆ Keisuke is Manjiro’s… friend, if you can even call him that. Mikey beats him up for fun. (In his defense, Baji asks for it.)

☆ It was only when you saw Manjiro literally kick a guy twice his size on the face, knocking them out cold, did you realize that this kid could literally kill you.

“Is Manjiro safe?” “Why are you saying that as if he’s some dog?”

☆ You love the kid, either way.

☆ You’d defend him from whatever happens. But if it’s a fight, you’re dropping out. Fuck no. Mikey can fight for himself. (If anything, you’re the one getting beat up.)

“Y/n-nee, Shinichiro hit me!” “Shin, don’t hit him! That was too hard.” “Why are you taking his side?!” “He brought home snacks for me and you’ve been pissing me off lately.”

☆ It does weird you out how he laughs at horror movies when the four of you watch at home, though. Everyone is screaming. You don’t know if he’s laughing at the gory scene on the television or at everyone’s reaction.

☆ Movie nights with the Sano family start during the afternoon because everyone wants a chance to pick a movie. 

☆ Sometimes, you get suspicious of Shinichiro disappearing randomly. He doesn’t answer your calls, nor his siblings’. When he comes back and you ask him to explain, he just grins at you and ruffles your hair. Asshole.

“It’s a secret.”

☆ MALL DATES WITH THE SANO FAMILY !!!

☆ It was supposed to be shopping with Emma but three people were tagging along, acting as if it was a coincidence, because they wanted attention from you as well.

☆ It would be a bloodbath. Emma wants to go shopping, Shinichiro wants to go to the arcade, Mikey wants to go home, Keisuke wants to go to a pet shop. 

☆ You want to go to the movies. That’s impossible because you’d never get to pick the movie you want to watch.

☆ When you get home, everyone is knocked out tired. After a whole day of complaining and fighting, you didn’t expect anything else. (You were also half-dead on the couch after all.)

☆ You stay over so much at Sano's house that you’re basically a member of that household. Their grandfather doesn’t quite mind.

☆ Their grandfather appreciates your presence in the house. It seems as if it has been livelier with you around. He doesn’t mind the noise.

☆ He  doesn’t quite understand how you can stand his grandchildren. For one, his eldest, Sano Shinichiro is running around, creating a gang and picking fights and getting his ass handed to him. Manjiro started calling himself some name, is addicted to fights, and refuses to learn anything else because apparently he’s going to take over Tokyo or something. Emma is… Well, that child seems to hate everyone. Then, there’s also Mikey’s friend, Keisuke. He doesn’t even have to say anything about that kid.

☆ He finally understood when he saw you laughing as you watched Keisuke and Manjiro get chased by wild dogs.

“She’s just as insane as them.”

☆ He says all of that but he loves all four of his grandchildren.

☆ Sometimes, it felt like you lived in that house more than your own. Shinichiro’s room is yours. (He did not agree to this. You sleep on his bed anyway.)

☆ Emma loves playing with your hair and styling it. She complains that her brothers’ hairs are too short. (That’s part of the reason why Mikey grew his out.)

☆ She also learned cooking from you. Honestly, you don’t know how they survived this long. The only thing Shinichiro can cook is curry and it’s shit.

“Shinichiro’s cooking sucks.” “You brat! Try starving!” “Instead of eating your food? Gladly.”

☆ Shinichiro annoys you to teach him how to cook better as well. Emma told him to get out of her kitchen.

☆ Mikey has this habit of judging people. He will blackmail you even before he learns the word blackmail. Be careful.

☆ Emma also has a bit of judging people, specifically her brothers. More specifically, Shinichiro’s sense of style and Manjiro’s inability to eat anything that isn’t sweet. She says that’s why he’s so stupid, his brain is filled with sugar.

☆ You can tell that the kids love each other so much though. You just hope that they can show that… properly.

☆ Shinichiro loves taking videos of everything, he uses this camcorder that was gifted to him years ago, on his 7th birthday. He has a shelf of tapes in his room. Later down the row, your videos were in the Sano Family Collection.

☆ It’s always noisy at that house. But it’s expected as it is home to five people.

☆ It only became silent when Shinichiro died.

☆ Everything was different after Shinichiro died. 

☆ On the night he died, that was the one night you chose to laugh at him when he asked if you wanted to stay at the shop with him to help fix up Mikey’s birthday gift for tomorrow.

“Hey, Y/n! You better be there for Mikey’s birthday tomorrow.” “How could I not go to my favorite Sano’s birthday?” “I thought that I was your favorite Sano- Don’t laugh!” “Goodnight, Shin.”

☆ Manjiro called you an hour later; that was your last conversation with Shinichiro.

☆ Of course, it hurt you. How could it not? Almost ten years of your life was spent with him, from high school until adulthood. He was family. He was someone. He was Shinichiro.

☆ Sometimes, it felt like a part of you died with him that night.

☆ But you had to be strong. Mikey and Emma were lost, confused, and they were looking at you. How could you show them that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore?

☆ You put on a smile, hardened yourself, and took care of them. They were your kids as much as they were Shinichiro’s.

☆ You spend the nights crying.

☆ Emma refused to leave your side. She cried when you even tried stepping out of the house’s door.

☆ Mikey never left his room the days that followed Shinichiro’s death. He barely ate, the meals you left outside his door barely eaten. You had to beg him to go out of his room on the day of the funeral. He almost didn’t come.

“Mikey, please. Please. Go see your brother before he has to go. Please, Manjiro.”

☆ You cried outside his door that morning. Begging him.

☆ He came out, eyes red, lips pursed.

☆ The funeral was attended by family, friends, members, people whose lives were changed because of Shinichiro. You find that in funerals, you can see how good of a person the deceased is from the people that visit.

☆ You had no tears left to cry during the funeral, even when people came to pat your shoulder and tell you that he was a good person. You knew that. Shinichiro is a good person. They didn’t have to tell you.

☆ You caught a glance of a boy with light hair standing at the very back. You didn’t recognize him but something was pulling you to him. He left before you could approach him.

☆ The first night after Shinichiro was laid down on his final resting place, you found yourself on the couch in the living room.

☆ That night was the hardest you ever cried for Sano Shinichiro.

☆ The silence was unbearable. 

☆ It took so long to finally stop shedding tears over the dead. When you realized that you stopped crying for him, it made you break down even more.

☆ You couldn’t understand how Mikey and Emma manage to go about their day as if nothing was wrong. How they declined therapy, or seeing someone. 

☆ You never knew that it was because you were right there. They could act as if nothing was wrong because you were still there.

☆ Sometimes, you just want to run away and never look back. To forget about Shinichiro, about Mikey, Emma, their whole bloodline. It was heavy. It was so heavy. But you didn’t.

☆ That was love.

☆ But it was Mikey and Emma who insisted that you take the job offer overseas.

“We’ll be fine here, Y/n-nee.” “Yeah, we’re not babies. We can take care of ourselves just fine.” “Well, I can. Mikey can’t.” “Hey!”

☆ Your eyes were teary when you packed your bags and left, promising them that it would only be for a while, that you’d come back soon.

“They’re at their little meeting.”

You feel the breeze caress your skin, like an old friend greeting you home. Shibuya never changed in the years that you were gone. From their grandfather’s words, it seemed like the Sano siblings didn’t change as well. Seriously, why is the meeting still at night?

You just came back to Japan and the very first place that you went was, of course, home. The Sano Household. Only to find out that the two kids that you were planning to surprise weren't even there.

Their grandfather had welcomed you warmly like you were his own grandchild, telling you that as usual, they were out having a little meeting. You thanked him, leaving your bags, before finding yourself in the cold once more.

You were unofficially officially tasked to drag them home.

Mikey you can understand, but Emma? Why in the world is she hanging out with her brother? In her brother’s meeting? In her brother’s gang meeting? You wondered if starting or being in gangs was in the bloodline. It’s as if the Sano Siblings were destined to trouble, as if they’d get sick if they aren’t fighting something.

You adjust the plastic bag on your wrist. You bought some ingredients for dorayaki, planning on spending the night to make some with the siblings because you know that Manjiro wouldn’t be able to wait until tomorrow.

God, I love these kids too much.

The silence of the night was peaceful.

The silence of the night was broken by bellowing. 

“Who in the world is screaming in the dead of the night?”

You sighed, starting your trek up the steps of Musashi shrine. It wasn’t until midway did you finally start to recognize that voice. “Manjiro?” What the fuck.

Hurrying to the top, the shrine was crowded by rows of black uniforms, young teens in lines looking up at the shrine where the familiar strands of blond stood. You blink.

For a second, you saw Black Dragon. 

For a second, you saw Sano Shinichiro.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips, unheard in the midst of one Sano Manjiro’s yelling. Last you heard, there were barely 10 guys in the Tokyo Manji Gang. To think that that snotty brat who refused to eat anything that isn’t sweet is leading such a huge group, is succeeding in his once little dream.

Manjiro looked like Shinichiro, you realize, standing at the very back.

You shook yourself out of your stupor. No. You refuse to let yourself walk backwards, to let yourself see things that aren’t there, to remember moments long past.

Emma is standing off to the side with a cute girl beside her. At least she didn’t seem to be a part of the gang, wearing civilian clothes that you hoped was keeping her warm. You don’t want her getting sick. You march forward, ignoring the looks sent your way by the members as they try to stop you.

Without a pause, you start matching Manjiro’s screaming just as Emma starts, “Y/n-nee!-”

“Shut the hell up, Sano Manjiro!”

The silence of the night returns.

Wide obsidian eyes stare into your as you stand at the very front, at the bottom of the stairs where Mikey stood. “It is eleven in the fucking evening. Everyone is asleep. None of your members are talking. So tell me, why the fuck are you screaming?!”

There were murmurs behind you. He doesn’t seem to mind, a grin splitting his face, the cold mask he was wearing breaking as he jumps down, skipping steps. “Y/n-nee!”

“We’re going home!”

You step to the side, letting him land on the space where you once were, knowing that you were going to get tackled if you hadn’t dodge. Mikey is unnerved, simply turning around and jumping on you, arm hitting your throat.

Draken looked exasperated, knowing that the President wasn’t going to go back to whatever he was saying and it was up to him to adjourn for the night.

“You’re back!” He looks at the plastic bag. “ARE THOSE FOR DORAYAKI?!”

“Nuh-uh! Go back up there and finish your little club meeting.”

“But Ken-chin-”

“No!”

Mikey pouts as he gets pushed off of you. Ken gives you a thankful look as if you were an angel sent by the heavens to rein their spontaneous boss back. “Let’s go, Emma,” you call to the girl already hurrying over.

“Y/n-”

“No.”

You turn your back to Mikey, grabbing Emma’s hand as she looks at you with wide eyes, a growing smile on her lips. Seriously, screaming at 11 in the evening at a shrine where no one is talking? You worry for Mikey sometimes. 

“Keisuke, you’re invited as well,” you tell the boy in passing, glancing at the blond beside him. “Bring your pretty friend over as well.”

“Y/n-nee, when did you come back?”

You smile at her. “Just now.”

“And you headed straight here?”

Technically, no. You headed home. “Where else would I go if not to you and Mikey?”

It's just that your home is the Sano Family.

[thef1diary]

Don’t Go | C. Sainz

Summary: You and Carlos broke up over a month ago, however he doesn't want it to stay that way.

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship if you squint

word count: 2.2k

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

"You know what, that's it. We're done!" You yelled at your boyfriend who was blatantly ignoring you while getting dressed for a work event. You didn't even wait for a response from him, mainly because you knew you weren't going to get one. You weren't the type of person to create a scene but your anger got to you. Slamming the door to your shared apartment, you kept telling yourself that you'll be fine without him while tears streamed down you cheeks.

One month later:

It turned out that you were fine without him, mainly because you haven't seen him yet. Carlos had a triple header coming up when you broke up with him, so you knew that he would be too busy anyways which meant you weren't expecting a text or phone call after your dramatic—but much needed—exit from his apartment.

It obviously hurt to leave him, after all you were together for four years. But what hurt more was that he didn't even care that you left. Despite how hectic race weekends could be, you thought that you had at least some sort of importance in his life to at least deserve a phone call.

During that one month, you thought about the four years you spent together and wondered where it went wrong. Carlos was an amazing, loving boyfriend. You understood each other, respected each other, and you truly loved him.

There were moments when he would be extremely stressed out due to his racing results and you completely understood that. The thing was, he would come to you to talk about it all. He would lay his head against your chest and you would play with his hair while he was would tell you everything.

However, the Carlos you knew then was nothing like the one you broke up with. He was distant, cold, and made you feel like you didn't mean anything to him.

You were currently out with your friend at a club because she made it her mission to help you move on. Obviously that meant finding someone else for a night to help you forget about everything but you didn't want that. In fact, you two had been out for a few hours now but you were still completely sober. You were moving on. Not forgetting about it, but accepting the truth. Or at least you thought you were.

You watched as your friend was dancing freely, without a care in the world and you wished that you could be like her. The temptation of wanting to drink was strong, but you restrained yourself because you didn't want to wake up with a hangover. Plus, drinking wasn't your thing. What you needed right now was a cigarette and a lighter, both of the things already in your pocket.

You silently communicated with your friend when she looked at you, telling her that you are going to step out for a moment. You stood in the alleyway where you saw two people making out further away. Turning away from them, you lit a cigarette. Sure this habit was bad, but it could be a lot worse. You weren't a heavy smoker but you always had a pack on you, just in case.

The air was chilly which made the smoke you inhaled feel a lot better than it usually would. The warmth radiating through your body was inviting.

You heard the back door open but didn't face it, thinking the couple went back in. You smelt his cologne before you saw him, and instantly the memories rushed back. Although, you doubted that he knew it was you.

You were right, because he tapped your shoulder and asked for a cigarette. When you turned to face him, he looked quite surprised. He looked good, of course he did, there were rarely any bad days for him. His hair was slightly messy due to the wind outside, and his outfit was quite casual.

He said your name to bring back your attention towards him. You passed him the pack and he commented, "thought you stopped."

"I did." You simply said, implying that you started again after your breakup. You'd still carry a pack on you even though you never touched it, but now things were different.

He nodded, standing beside you while you puffed out smoke. "Thought you didn't smoke." You commented to which he replied, "I didn't."

You could read the implication as well, but you didn't think that he'd ever indulge in this bad habit. He would always tell you to stop, joking around that he will live longer than you.

You didn't like this silence, nor did you want to talk to him. You initially thought that he'd say something, anything. But this silence was deafening.

Throwing the remnants of the cigarette, you turned around to leave but you remembered something so you stopped, "I still have to pick up my stuff, text me a time you're free so I can come by."

The night that you left in anger, you didn't take your keys belonging to your shared apartment, which meant you had to wait for him to be home so you could pick up your stuff.

——

He followed through on your request and texted you a few hours after your last conversation, telling you to come by whenever because he'd be home for the week.

So here you were, standing in front of the main door to the apartment you once called yours. He opened it after a few knocks, and you had to take a deep breath before you entered. It's finally time to get through this, no matter how painful it may be.

The apartment was exactly the same as you left it, if not messier. "Sorry, I didn't really have the time to clean up." He told you, but you shrugged, "it's okay. I'm not going to be here for too long."

There was a awkward tension between you two, and you decided to act civilized, the least you could do to make your time spent here easier. "How was Spain?" You asked, knowing that his home race was the most recent one. You've always attended his home race, so it felt weird that you weren't there this time.

"It was good, got second place." He said, and you didn't have the guts to tell him that you watched the race, seeing him celebrate with his teammate who won. You also saw the trophy that was undoubtedly new, sitting on the shelf among his others.

If you two were together, you'd surely celebrate his race with other friends and family and even more when you two would've gotten home that night. But that's something that will never happen now.

Walking towards your bedroom, the same one you and Carlos shared, you started gathering your things. Either Carlos didn't want to remove your things or he didn't have the time to do so. For your peace of mind, you are hoping the second reason is true.

You had brought an empty suitcase with you, and while you were filling it up with your clothes, his voice made you pause, "don't go." He was leaning against the doorframe, watching you pack up all your stuff and then planning on leaving this apartment without any trace of your relationship behind.

"You should've said that a month ago," you were quick to respond without even looking up at him. Which is why you didn't see him walking closer and crouching down. He held your hand to stop you from folding your clothes, making you look at him.

"I should've said a lot more a month ago, but is too late to say it now?" He asked as he moved his hand up, placing it on your cheek.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his eyes. Mainly because it reminded you of the good times of your relationship, before everything went wrong.

Carlos took your lack of response to continue, "you know, I miss you" those words broke you out of your trance, "I miss the old you" you responded, making him realize the consequences to his actions.

You moved his hand away, returning back to the task at hand. "Can we please talk about this?" He asked, making you sigh. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think that's a good idea." You shook your head.

"Why not? It was a bit extreme no, you just walked out on me."

"Like I said, it's been a month. If you wanted to stop me or talk about it then you should've called me or at least make the effort to contact me. But you didn't, and that's exactly why we're over now." You tried to keep yourself in control, watching your tone. You didn't want to leave this apartment while arguing again.

"I was busy with the races you know that-" he tried to reason but you were quick to stop him. "And that's the problem Carlos, you were busy. You've gotten so busy nowadays that I barely see you. There have been times where I had to wait weeks before I could see you again, and even then all you're talking about is the next upcoming race."

He opened his mouth to say something but you didn't let him and continued, "I get it, it's your career, it's something you've wanted since you were a child. But if your career is that important for you that you can't even spend any time with me, then there's no point of a relationship."  You concluded.

You could see when realization hit him, knowing that things won't be the same anymore. You would feel bad but he wasn't there to console you when you felt like that either. You almost scoffed at the idea of him thinking that everything between you could work out.

"You're really choosing to throw away the four years we spent together?"

"I really didn't want to. Trust me, I really, really didn't want this. But I am tired of being the only one holding our relationship together. In the past year, I have seen no efforts from your side." You were brutally honest with him, and despite his expressions saying otherwise, he needed to hear this.

He held your hands again, "don't do this."

"Carlos, why don't you understand. For lack of better words, I'm freeing you from this. You don't have to worry about calling, texting, or even seeing me." The words you were saying out loud were tearing your heart apart and you had no doubt that if Carlos still loves you, he'd feel the same.

"If you think you're not gonna see me or hear from me again, you're wrong. You will see me, and you will damn well hear from me again." Carlos' mood shifted.

"No-" you began but he cut you off. "You've said your part, now hear me out. If you think I stopped loving you for even a moment, you're wrong. And I know you still love me too. If you didn't, you would completely ignore me and not try to convince me why our break up is a good idea. Although it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself rather than me."

You opened your mouth but no words came out because you were speechless. "You think I didn't have a single thought about you while I was away? You're wrong. You're the only person I thought about, you occupied my mind every second of every day for the entire month."

"If you really want to try this whole breakup thing out, sure go ahead. Walk out of my life like you did a month ago, but this time I am not letting you go. If you think you are not going to see any effort from me, again sorry but you're wrong."

"I am so sorry for everything I've done or haven't done for the past year and truly I have no excuse for my actions. But you, darling, are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

You know what Carlos expects you to say. He wants you to forget about it all and go back to how you two were before. But at the same time, he is challenging you to leave, and you never backed down from a challenge before and you won't start now. As much as you love him, you need actions not words.

"You claim to love me right?" You ask and he nods.

You zip up your suitcase and stand up. "I am going to leave, and you will let me. You say that you'll prove it to me, so until I don't see you taking actions for your words, I am not coming back."

He still looks taken aback, clearly not expecting you to do this. But he settles his emotions and nods, "you can leave, but I'm not letting you go."

Carlos is also the type to accept the challenge, and he will do anything to earn your love again. After all, he never wanted to break up, in fact, he wanted to make you his wife. So if he has to work for that, he will.

[midnight-melancholiaaa]

‘what the fuck was up with that first sol and mae conversation’ - an acolyte ep6 theory/analysis post

I think the start of this episode unfortunately put to bed the theories that Sol was aware of Mae’s identity and baited her onto the ship. So that got me thinking — at what point in the conversation did Sol realise he wasn’t speaking to Osha? What tipped him off? And, generally, what the fuck was that conversation??? Sol??? Hello?????

I think all of this can be explained, and the layers of their conversation peeled back in an interesting way, if Sol realised Mae’s identity earlier than I’d first assumed. I now think a few flags early in the conversation tipped him off, and a lot of his later lines are his response to Mae clearly projecting her own feelings onto “Osha”.

Theory/analysis below the cut!

First off, Mae’s lines and behaviour when she emerges from the engine room are dispassionate in a way we don’t expect from Osha. There’s an argument that this could look to Sol like someone numb with grief and putting on a functional face, but I’m going to list this as Red Flag Number 1. When she asks Sol what’s up with him, she sounds more confused and curious than she does concerned, again not something that tracks as Osha.

However, I think the red flag that dooms Mae is in the following exchange.

“How could I not have sensed that villain’s true intentions when we first met him on Olega”

“I think when you really want something, it can cloud your mind” (Sol looks up) “You see what you want to see. He fooled us all.”

These are some JUICY lines. We’re clearly encouraged to think of their pertinence to Sol, and the Order’s current ignorance of the dark side threat, as well as Sol’s own personal blinders with the Brendok mystery. But this is also the first time we see something key for the rest of this conversation - Mae blatantly projecting her own feelings onto half-hearted mimicry of what she assumes Osha might say.

In her projection, she expresses her own frustration at being misled by the Master, at wanting to believe his structure for Mae’s revenge against the jedi, and hence his shaping of Mae’s life path, was meaningful. I’ve seen Osha’s loneliness discussed a lot by the fandom, but Mae is winning a gold medal in the loneliness contest. She’s spent 16 years desperately searching for someone who understands her in the way she thought Osha did, and whatever kinship she hoped the Master had for her has just shattered. This adds another layer to her too-casual reaction to Sol’s grief. She doesn’t expect a Jedi to feel such love for their padawan, not just because she views the Jedi as dispassionate (which we’ll come back to later), but because her master never felt that way about her. In all these lines, Mae’s betrayal comes across beautifully.

But the mimicry of Osha? Mae failgirls that one. We know Osha to be a straightforward, direct person, rather than someone to speak in riddles, or spout superficially Jedi-style wisdoms with a distinctly-Mae core of cynicism.

This touches on another repeated theme of this scene — Mae clearly doesn’t understand how Osha feels about the Jedi, in a way that speaks to larger issues with understanding her sister as a person separate from herself, with different thought processes and values. When Mae speaks as Osha, it’s hard to tell what’s Mae speaking directly as herself, or Mae as how she thinks Osha thinks, but there isn’t much difference between those two — Mae assumes Osha reacts to situations as Mae would, treating her as a half of the same whole.

Feel free to skip this tangent if you’re just here for the Sol theory!!!!

I think it goes beyond not understanding Osha’s point of view — as the lovely @animazi put it, it’s as if Mae cannot conceive of Osha being a person outside their sisterly relationship and Mae’s coven-derived identity. It’s a complete disconnect of empathy, in that it doesn’t occur to Mae that she should try to empathise.

Mae wants to believe that they are fundamentally the same person. “You see what you want to see.” Mae wants to believe the only reason she and Osha are different is because one has been “corrupted” by the Jedi. She recognises that outside influences and different formative experiences have torn her apart from her sister, but she wants to believe that if Osha was plucked away from the Jedi, if she was taught rather than corrupted (haha I love this episode title), if she knew the ‘truth’ about Brendok, they could revert to a perfect sisterly harmony. A harmony based on Mae’s conception of them.

So of COURSE she doesn’t try to empathise with Osha’s current way of seeing, when she views it as both temporary and fixable, corrupted and false. Mae believes that, as soon as the falsehoods are stripped away, Osha will be herself again, in that Osha will be Mae. Mae believes Osha is simply Mae under a fragile Jedi veneer, explaining why so many of her lines in this scene are essentially Mae talking, with a half-hearted Osha bent.

Apologies for that detour, back to the scene. It’s very striking to me how Sol looks up for the first time in the middle of Mae’s mini-speech. There’s many interpretations for this look, yes, and you could argue he’s having a crisis about the Sol-related clouded vision stuff I mentioned earlier.

But he seems confused, almost frightened, and then the camera comes back to him after Mae finishes, and I think this is the moment.

Please look at these shots and tell me that’s not the face of someone for whom a thousand things have just clicked into place. We see him harden into some new realisation, and then…

“You found him.” (meaningful pause) “Your PIP droid.”

This line is such a non-sequitur that it’s actually what drove me to take another look at this scene. I assumed it was some janky prequel-esque dialogue, but now I’m not so sure. Saying “you found him” so soon after some ominous looks from Sol and the discussion of Qimir could, at the very least, be a nod to Mae’s role in everyone’s brush with the dark side. But, even then, Sol’s deflection to the droid doesn’t make full sense. And then I thought ‘oh shit’…………

After rewatching Episode 5, I’m convinced that Sol is aware PIP was sacrificed and really should not be back with “Osha”. For somebody afraid and grieving and running for their life to calmly find and fix their droid is… not Osha. It’s as if Sol raises the incriminating subject right after his realisation, just to confirm it to himself. And Mae, though slightly nervous, hands him that confirmation on a platter.

To bring back the clouded judgement line again, Sol was blinded. He wanted to have saved Osha, because he could not save anyone else. He wanted to have not failed Osha for the third time. Brendok, leaving the Order, now. It’s Sol in that room, looking at the holo. He wanted to have learned from his mistakes.

But now he knows it is NOT Osha, and the conversation gets 5000% more interesting. To me, his next few lines are gently testing Mae, playing along to see if he can evoke a reaction or a slip from her — if she’ll come clean or double down into the lie. It’s fascinating the way he’s half addressing a hypothetical Osha, and half addressing Mae.

So, first the droid lines, to see if Mae notices her mistake, and then…

“I noticed the way you take care of him, talk to him, love him. Even though he is just a machine.”

This seems like something meant for Osha. It’s something Mae would expect of her sister’s overabundance of compassion, and so something that won’t make her suspicious. But I think the implication of Osha’s loneliness is deliberate, in that we know Mae is also deeply lonely and searching for connection in places it isn’t reciprocated. Down to you if you think the machine allegory is in reference to Mae’s master, and what that might say about Sol’s view of Qimir, or if this is a more take-it-as-written line, but I think it still emotionally resonates with Mae even if she doesn’t want it to. Her expression in this pause does seem to imply as much.

At the end of this speech, Sol moves into that area of shadowy lighting, which I WILL discuss later.

Mae’s response, “I’ve always been like that. Even when I was little,” is also very telling. It’s her reminiscence of child Osha, as loving the small things, and having more reservations about… force-manipulating space hummingbirds? But, with Sol’s double meaning, this line is true of Mae too. Mae’s tendency to love clingily, desperately, in ways that aren’t “appropriate”, as we see in flashback Mae’s attempts to make her sister stay.

And then Sol’s response, a simple “I know”, fits this double conversation too. There’s a parental exhaustion, a heartache for his padawan, and his own (involuntary?) empathy for Mae, the abandoned sister. I think this’ll hit even harder once we know what happened on Brendok — Sol clearly knows more about Mae than he ‘should’.

The pause after this feels heavy, tense, even disappointed. Sol knows that Mae’s resigned to the act. With all this context and lead-up, Sol’s cagey behaviour in the last part of this scene now makes SO much more sense to me.

“I had to lose a lot of myself in order to become a Jedi. Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

I think this is said to provoke Sol into guilt, but speaks to Mae’s false conceptions of the Jedi, and they way they approach love — she assumes Osha must have had to lose her compassion. More importantly, this shows Mae still does not understand Osha’s motivations for joining the Jedi, and remains emotionally raw about it. How could her “compassionate” sister choose to leave the family who loved her? How could she abandon Mae if the Jedi had not “corrupted” her, had not taken that compassion and loyalty away?

She wants to believe in the Jedi as a stealing, malign influence, because she wants to attribute Osha’s departure to anything other than the fact that Osha and Mae are, at their core, different people. In believing they are the same, Mae still cannot fathom why Osha would choose to lose their family, their coven, their grander destiny, and above all their sisterhood, because this is something Mae would never choose. So of course Mae does not see what Osha loved about the Jedi, of course Mae views the Jedi as merely an agent of loss. A false dream that she must “kill” to bring Osha back to her.

(And this is without even going into whatever the hell the Jedi did on Brendok!)

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

All this contextualises Sol’s cagey almost-apology. His body language is SO closed off and suspicious. I don’t think he’s even pretending to speak to Osha at this point — this is directly to Mae. He loves his padawan and supports her decision to join the Order, but regrets the collateral of that decision — a decision he still views as right.

I think that explains a lot about his reaction. He freezes up in the face of Mae’s depth of feeling, and is caught between his empathy and his loyalty to Osha. I’ll agree this is NOT the way to apologise to someone, but what he says is true to Sol — he’s not sorry Osha made the choice she did. But he’s sorry that Mae feels this way, has processed her loss the way she has. The reveal of what happened on Brendok will finalise what level of dickish this is, but it is at least LESS dickish than him saying this to Osha 😭

“How could I feel any other way” is exactly what I’ve said earlier. Mae cannot fathom how Osha could feel any differently than Mae does.

And Sol avoids her eyes and sighs. I think it’s a mixture of regret, of resignation, and of still struggling to confront his own mistakes. That avoidance comes through in the final part of their conversation — a part I’m still struggling to unpack, though I think next week will reveal all.

We’ve seen Sol make several insistences that he’d tell Osha the truth about Brendok, and even this episode we see him prepared to tell the council. So his avoidance now is intriguing. You could argue that he was always going to quail from telling Osha, the way he kept promising it and then delaying it, but I think there’s something else going on.

I think now he knows it’s Mae, the person most damaged by his actions on Brendok, he falters. Aside from Mae’s specific victimhood, there’s also a difference between facing up to someone you trust and hope will have sympathy for you, and facing up to someone who’s just shown how wedded she is to her own way of seeing. The realisation that this is Mae has come so suddenly that in this moment he freezes and avoids. His coldness here is also notable — you could almost think that he resents Mae a little, for ruining this moment that was supposed to be Osha’s.

But is he really doing this for Osha? Did he want Osha to know for her own sake now she’s an adult and the protection excuse is wearing thin, or did he want to seek absolution from her? Is he hoping for a level of forgiveness that he cannot get from Mae? I guess we’ll find out next week…….

A few more notes on Sol before I finish…

Yes this is finally about the shadow thing. My first reaction to this was “hey leslye, what the fuck, OW.” Aside from the classic symbolism of a character stepping into shadow, this specific barred shadow is super reminiscent of the scene where Anakin speaks to Yoda in Revenge of The Sith. Given the topic of that conversation was about fear, passion and anger as paths to the dark side, a topic that Qimir also brings up this episode, I don’t think this is coincidental.

That said, I don’t think the shadows are straightforward Sol-will-fall symbolism. I think they’re emblematic of the emotions he’s struggling with as soon as he realises Mae’s identity. Fear, of the consequences Mae represents more than any other person. Defensiveness from her anger at him and her challenges to his worldview (and, lest we forget, the fact that she could still try to harm him). Perhaps some anger towards HER, for taking Osha, and this moment with Osha as he’d envisioned it, away from him. Anger for her role in the deaths of the other Jedi, at himself for the role HE had in creating Mae’s revenge. But, warring with these darker impulses, also regret, pity, sorrow for his padawan’s sister. That final remorse, in the way his face just slightly changes before the lights come up and the shadows disappear. Such symbolism Leslye I am eating the walls.

Don’t get me wrong, Sol is a man on the edge and I’m excited (afraid?) to see which way the narrative takes him. I think he’s written deliberately enigmatic this episode, and his later scenes will make more sense next week. I have no idea why he switched off his comms and hyperspace jumped instead of facing up to the council. Well, that’s a lie, I have a few ideas…

The scene of Mae in restraints is also ambiguous, though I think it links back to Sol’s surprise at Mae’s identity, and initial freezing up when he realises he’s lost control of the Brendok-reveal. That final scene is him grasping for control back, to control some of his fears and put him in a (metanarrative) place where he feels able to monologue on his own terms next episode. I actually have a lot more thoughts on this scene, and the hyperspace jump, AND some predictions for next week, but they won’t fit in this post. Here [part 2] they are instead!

We’re absolutely meant to doubt Sol this episode. I think Teach/Corrupt is, like much of Episode 6, a title of deliberate double meaning. But I’m also struck by the fear and sorrow in his face in that lovely shot where he shoots Mae through the doorway. His fond, regretful tone of voice in “Oh, Mae…” Not to be Star Wars cliche, but I suspect the good in Sol will win out. If it doesn’t then that’s a heartbreaking twist and I’ll probably throw myself into the ocean!

Either way, this is an episodic mystery show and, much as I can unpick some of Sol and Mae’s behaviour, we’ll only know the full story with hindsight. Here’s to hoping at least some of my theory holds up, and thank you for reading!!!!!!

The Sol Patrol shall forge bravely (and perhaps delusionally) onwards! <3

[dutchdread]

Ouch, that's gotta hurt.

Watching Cleriths celebrate NPTK these past weeks, knowing they'll, as always, be proven incorrect has been an exercise in patience. Sometimes it's just clear that you won't be able to convince people of a complex truth when so often discourse is limited to 280 characters. The reason Clerith exists is that people are unable to see the big picture, it survives by people squinting and not seeing the "but" that's located right after every piece of evidence they put forward. This means that you'll often be perceived to be arguing against what is to them the blatantly obvious. It's futile, nuanced argument never wins from emotion, so often you just have to take solace in the idea that "well, it will be fun to see their surprise 4 years from now". So when you get an interview like this, mere weeks after the game releases, which confirms everything that Clotis had been saying about, and had been mocked for, NPTK, you can't help feel a sense of schadenfreude.

Man that's gotta hurt. This is the difference between Clotis and Cleriths. Cleriths don't really like Aerith, because they want to assassinate her character. Rather than a sad tragic tale of a lifetime of love and loss they want to reduce her character to a shallow cliche rom-com about a capricious girl whose fickle affections change by the hour. The fact that the first person Aerith starts developing feelings for after 5 years of pining after Zack is a man who is almost literally channeling Zack becomes a meaningless coincidence in the story. The fact that she knows Cloud for 2 weeks, most of which is also spent pining over Zack is viewed as confirmation of how special their love is. It doesn't matter that Aerith doesn't even know who Cloud is. It doesn't matter that Cloud is shown to very obviously be in love with another woman. It doesn't matter that Cloud is clearly losing his mind. It doesn't matter that Cloud is constantly show as being apathetic towards her advancements. Even them fighting is recontextualized as "good chemistry" just to avoid facing reality. Usually nonsensical romances are seen as bad-writing, but here the cope makes people excuse all the nonsense as "how brilliantly written is this story? They love each other despite it making no sense, now THAT is romance". Zack is called irrelevant, CC is a "ret-con" and can be ignored, ACC is about how romantic it is to want to die to be with someone. The reason Zack is so predominant in Rebirth is in no way connected to Aerith yearning for exactly the bond he's constantly showing to have with her. The contrast with Clouds apathy means nothing, he definitely isn't there to have some sort of pay-off with Aerith in part 3. Nah, he's just there to give Cloud and Aerith his blessing and to F-off. The reason Tifa is silent and heartbroken at the end has nothing to do with her best friend dying and the man she loves losing his mind. The distance between her and Cloud at that moment is totally not used to illustrate the severity of the situation, or to set-up Tifas importance in the events for part 3. Nah, she doesn't get lines because she's just a side character duh!. That is how they think, every single character and story is assassinated, everything happens only to service Cloud and Aeriths romance, even Cloud and Aerith themselves are pushed through the mud. Screw the death of Ifalna, screw the death of Zack, screw the complexity surrounding Clouds Zack shaped psychology, screw Aeriths childhood and desire for real bonds of friendship, screw even the story of Aerith dying and how maybe, JUST MAYBE, the scenes surrounding Aeriths death have SOMETHING to do with the strong emotions surrounding death rather than just being "a cute romance scene uwu". Never have I seen any story interpretation reveal such rampant hatred for a character as Cleriths reveal for Aerith. To them, Aerith is totally the kind of person who would bond with Tifa, hear the very personal and intimate story about the promise shared between her and Cloud, hear that Cloud thinks that Zack is dead, and not 5 minutes later write a story about how "she loves Cloud and they wouldn't need no promises like that other girl". But sure, I'm the one who hates Aerith, not the people who think this is who she is, but me, the person who assumed she'd be less vile than that and that any song she'd write would encompass more than that. I stand up for her character and get mocked, called an Aerith hater, and called "toxic"....and then you get an interview like this. God it feels good to always have all your positions validated by future content. One has to wonder if the people still arguing for Clerith ever sit back and think "wait, the last 100 times I dismissed these peoples arguments I was proven wrong almost immediately, I am constantly having to shift my goalposts while they're just happily sitting there laughing as they consume media about Cloud kissing Tifa, or proclaiming to become her special existence....maybe I am the delusional one...." God I can't wait for part 3, it will be hilarious.

[slexenskee]

Anti-Hero 1: A random scene from Gojo's childhood in MDNSY that never fit into the story proper.

Fuyumi stares up at him in stricken horror, tiny face drained of color as her gray eyes well with tears. A shattered vase lies on the ground around her bare feet. 

He’d heard the sound of glass breaking against the floor, and left his study to investigate the noise. Anger is easiest to call, fueled by his daily frustrations on his own inadequacies as a hero who cannot surpass All Might, by the quiet self-loathing he harbors for himself for dragging innocent souls into this mess. Anger at Rei, because she’s supposed to be watching the children while he’s working. At Fuyumi, for breaking a vase in the middle of the day and potentially injuring herself in an attempt to clean the house even though she knows damn well they have staff for that. 

He yells at her, even though he immediately regrets it. She’s just trying to be helpful. She didn’t mean to break the vase. Even though she’s doing things that are unnecessary, potentially dangerous ,and utterly purposeless, she didn’t do it to cause trouble. She’s frightened of him— she always is when he raises his voice. She starts sobbing uncontrollably, stammering about cleaning it up. Her noisy crying draws the attention of the entire house. 

She takes a step forward to start trying to pick up the pieces of glass with her bare hands. He shouts at her to stop moving; there are shards of glass everywhere around her and she’s not wearing shoes. He lunges towards her with his hand raised, to pick her up before she cuts up her feet. Natsuo comes barreling out onto the engawa from the living room, sees the broken vase and his sister crying, and him looming over her with his hand raised towards her and screams bloody murder. 

“Get the fuck away from her!” He shouts, hurtling towards them with the intent to— Endeavor doesn’t even know. Push him away? He barely comes up to Endeavor’s chest. And he’s cursing, too. He’s not even in double digits yet. Touya’s influence, no doubt. He clicks his tongue. What is Rei doing with them? Is she not disciplining them at all? 

“Stay where you are!” He booms back at him, loud enough to rattle the shoji screens. There’s glass all over the floor where he and Fuyumi are standing, and Natsuo is also not wearing shoes. 

“Leave her alone!” Natsuo screams back. 

The shoji screen to his right slides open. Touya sticks his head out, hair in disarray as he rubs one eye. He looks like he’d just woken up from a nap somewhere. Shouto toddles behind him, dropping his pacifier on the ground as he does so and then plops on the ground next to it to put it back in his mouth. Endeavor is disgusted. And overwhelmed. He’s never had to deal with all of his kids at once like this, all the noise and the chaos and the clashing personalities. Where the hell is Rei? Why isn’t she watching any of them? 

“Calm down, would ya, old man? It’s just a vase.” Touya yawns, looking as unimpressed with him as always. “You okay, Yumi-chan?”

Fuyumi sniffles, nodding hesitantly. 

“Don’t move, there’s glass all around you,” his eldest says, calmly, and then proceeds to ignore his own sound advice and walk directly into the hall. “I’ll go get a broom.” 

Everything about it infuriates Endeavor. The way he just ignores him, disrespects him so blatantly, doesn’t even look his way when he addresses him. They way his siblings automatically respond to him and listen to him, look to him for answers and direction— even when their father is right in front of them. 

“Stop right now boy!” He shouts at his eldest. Touya ignores him, picking his way through the glass with a graceful ease. 

The white-haired child laughs meanly at him. “Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

That’s what makes him see red. The audacity of this child, to speak to his father that way. If Endeavor had ever tried such a thing with his own father, he’d have gotten a beating for his cheek. No matter how he shouts or disciplines him, this impudent child never respects him at all. Never gives in, never apologizes or admits wrongdoing. It infuriates Endeavor to no end, that this failure of a child that cannot ever hope to surpass him can stare at him with such baleful eyes and find him wanting. 

He charges towards him. To grab him by the scruff of his neck and lift him up before he stupidly cuts himself on the glass, and maybe none-too-gently toss him into the grass off the side of the engawa. Instead Touya’s eyes flash, and he’s ducking out of his reach with astounding speed. He crouches low and angles all his weight onto his shoulder, shoves it into Endeavor’s stomach, and vaults him right over his shoulder, through the shoji screen wall and into the koi pond outside. As he resurfaces he hears Fuyumi’s shriek, Natsuo’s delighted shout, and Touya’s uproarious laughter as he calls him some rather unflattering names. Touya stops laughing after a beat, and when Endeavor blinks pond water out of his eyes, he’s lit up yet another cigarette in the house and is staring curiously at Shouto behind him. 

“Who’s this lil’ guy?” He says, sounding surprised to see him.

“That’s… Shouto.” Fuyumi trails off. 

“Oh.” There’s some vague recognition in that tone. Touya hauls Fuyumi up and carries her back into the house proper. He drops her next to Shouto. “Well whatever. Let’s go get ice cream. Shouto too.” 

As he walks away, Endeavor can’t help but notice his feet are clean and undamaged even after all of that movement, no blood or glass to be seen. 

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Thoughts about the supposed direction Rhaena's storyline is going in Hotd and the apparent Nettles erasure? Disappointing but... I can sort of see where they could take it? Idk... looking at grrm's posts in hindsight kinda makes me even more disappointed if he is as well (he just can't get his adaptations right atp but idk)

Well. Pre-ep7, we're still pending any Rhaena-Sheepstealer bonding, but I'm basically 😑🫠 about the rumors. (I dislike borrowing trouble, I'm not even sure how many of the rumors are true -- actually I'm pretty sure many of these supposed "leaks" are straight up lies -- and yet. Still *disgruntled meh* and *"we're all fine-everyone's fine here" dread*.) Rhaena is one of my more beloved F&B characters (it's the Sansa parallels, I can't help myself), and Nettles has been a super fave since TPATQ and TWOIAF. (Particularly TWOIAF, since the Burned Men fire-witch reveal; heck, I think my little dollmaker is still one of the few fanarts of Nettles in the mountains.)

I mean, sure, I understand that Rhaena's book storyline during the Dance, where she's offpage from basically the start of the war until nearly the end of it, socializing in the Vale and waiting for her egg to hatch, would be difficult to adapt in an action-oriented visuals-oriented television show. (Like Rhaenyra this season sure isn't just catatonically crying from Luke's death until Jace's.) And I'm glad Rhaena's getting more to do, and I'm glad it's directly addressing her feeling slighted and ignored by her family since she doesn't have a dragon. However...

I do not want Rhaena merged into one character with Nettles! I do not want Rhaena to have Sheepstealer and not her hope-for-the-future (doomed hope, and yet) baby dragon Morning, that hatched for her. Also note how pink Morning, worn as a fashion accessory, so suited Rhaena's coquette personality vs her sporty, adventurous twin sister... I mean, I've said before, I understand adaptations can be different, this still wouldn't make HOTD even close to a "loose adaptation".* But I do not want this adaptation to lose Rhaena's personality that I loved.

Or for that matter, to lose Nettles's character, and her importance to the themes and worldbuilding of ASOIAF. (See also.) And her importance to the plot -- but god knows, they're doing all sorts of things with Daemon and Rhaenyra on this show, toxic romance or what have you, who knows if once Daemon reaches his emotional breakthrough or whatever at Harrenhal this season, if they want to backslide him into a cheating plot in S3 while Daemon is again stuck in a castle for months.** Nevertheless, I'd be deeply disappointed to lose scenes like "as well as her dragon, the girl had taken to riding Daemon", or the last morning in Maidenpool scene... and um, you can't really fit Rhaena in there, or if you did, it would certainly put the lie to the ship denialists' "he just treated her like a father, platonically bathing naked together!" (Also the pretty blatant fake S3 leaks including one where Rhaenyra decides Rhaena has betrayed her... are pretty blatantly fake, sorry.)

And then there would be the frankly racist erasure of the one book black character. "Oh but the show made the Velaryons black, so it's not erasing, it's adding more!" No, sorry. (1) I was and am all for adding more racial diversity to the show and especially to Valyrians, but face it, when you take the book's secondary character Velaryons, two who get killed off early and are portrayed as lesser to the "true" Daemon/Rhaenyra marriage, and make them black, you've already done a lot of hinky damage there. (2) What, it's that hard to write three distinct black girls with very different personalities and one from an incredibly different background? I don't see Addam and Alyn getting merged. I don't see Aemond and Daeron getting merged. I don't see Hugh and Ulf getting merged. But I'm not really one to speak here, for this particular discussion I'd point you to @ride-thedragon and @venusintheblindspots-blog and @chrkrose, among others, they have many many posts on this subject in far greater detail and better argued than mine.

OK, so. I still have hope that Nettles -- even if not cast for this season (sorry y'all, that extra is an extra) -- may appear next season, and all this worry will turn out to be a tempest in a teapot. Per last report from the HOTD panel at SDCC, the rumor of Rhaena and Sheepstealer definitely doesn't happen in ep 7, though, yes, there's one episode after. And if it does happen... I'll be strongly disappointed. Deeply, deeply disappointed, and probably far more suspicious of future adaptational changes. But, for me at least, it's not a dealbreaker like GOT S5 was.*** I won't be happy at all about the storyline, but I would like to think the show will remain high quality re themes and character and all. Time will tell, though. Time will definitely tell.

As for GRRM, when his complaints seem to be "wild dragons shouldn't be in the Vale" and "the heraldry with four legs is wrong", well, I struggle to see that he's that disappointed in the adaptational changes. Believe me, I am well used to reading between the lines re GRRM and adaptations, something like the fact that he's not visiting the HOTD writers' room when he's in the UK is nothing. Catch me if at Worldcon or his Oxford lecture in August, GRRM again says that he could write a whole novel about Nettles, or if actually says something about non-Valyrian dragonriders, ok?

*I was just reading up on The Beast (2023) vs Henry James's “The Beast in the Jungle”. lol HOTD doesn't compare. Don't even think it, man.

**You know, this reminds me of how the Dance in F&B is not paced very well for individual characters, they keep going offscreen for months at a time. From shortly after Rhaenyra's crowning to the Fall of KL, Daemon just sits at Harrenhal and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands. From shortly after the Fall of KL until the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon just... sits at Maidenpool and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands (with Nettles). Yeah, obviously a show would need to write more for him to do, he's a main character.

***Thank god HOTD isn't the sort of exploitative shitshow that GOT was. All y'all thinking it was a better adaptation because of your nostalgia goggles (and/or shitty memory) need to actually reread the books (especially AFFC/ADWD) and then submit yourself to the real-world misogynist and homophobic nonsense of S5-6 again, ugh.

[creative-minds01]

“ You’re Mine” (part 1)

Obey me boys and their jealousy

Warnings: slight violence

READER: gender neutral

Lucifer

He’s the avatar of pride so of course he enjoys showing you off

But there’s limits to how much he’ll let others be around you

When someone blatantly flirts with you he’ll ignore it thinking they’re nothing to get upset over but looking out to make sure you’re not uncomfortable

When a demon is too touchy with you is a different story

If he notices someone being overly touchy with you and you seem uncomfortable Lucifer will stand behind you and glare at them

Normally this will be the end of it if it’s a lower demon scared of his power as the oldest but for some reason if the demon is bold and doesn’t leave and continues trying to touch you he’ll pull you behind him and threaten them until they leave

He doesn’t get jealous often because he knows you’re his and he’s yours and nothing can change that but sometimes he’ll overthink and have slight worries that he doesn’t spend enough time with you due to work

He tries to not outwardly express these concerns but you’ll notice the slight change in his attitude and comfort him until he feels better which he really appreciates

Mammon

Mammon is very clingy in your relationship and selfish with your time since he wants all of it to himself

There were times were he took you away from his brothers due to wanting your attention so imagine how he’ll react to a random demon flirting with you

Demons often forget that mammon is the 2nd oldest brother which makes him almost as strong as Lucifer and Diavolo that’s probably why this demon tried obviously flirting with you

When mammon saw you he was coming to show you something he had but saw you talking to some demon and started to get a little upset seeing someone talking to you

He walked up to you and pulled you slightly closer to him hoping it made the demon back off and catch the hint

This might work on some demons but others were bolder forgetting how high ranked mammon really was and continued flirting despite him being right there

This made him angry that he wasn’t being taken seriously so when the demon got more and more touchy he got angrier until he couldn’t take it and pulled you away from the demon and walked away mumbling about how all your attention should be on him since you were together

Mammon has a lot of insecurities due to years of his brothers bullying so he gets jealous easily and nervous thinking you left him for someone better because you realized that he’s not worth your time

During moments like this you will take him to cuddle in one of your rooms and tell him all the reasons he’s amazing and he’ll perk right up

Leviathan

As the avatar of envy it is common for him to have jealous moments over a numerous amount of things especially now that he has a significant other that he has to fight with his brothers for their attention

It’s hard to get him out of the house of lamentation due to him being an introvert so out of the few times he’s out with you and someone is flirting with you makes his blood boil

He went away from you for a couple of minutes while y’all were out and came back to a demon flirting with you he got a bit anxious before he walked over to you and stood behind you

Levi won’t cause a scene and will stand there until you are ready to go but if the demon gets too touchy he will slowly get angry and if the demon continues to do it he’ll grab you by your wrist not too rough and walk away mumbling about how you’re his and that , that nor is should’ve kept his hands off of you

Spending time with him by gaming or cuddling will help him through his insecurities and overthinking for a while

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post I did the oldest brothers first to get something posted I’ll get the others done soon. Also sorry if this isn’t too good it’s one of my first headcannons