#wanting to protect those who give no shits about their fate or the fate of the world

[primordialruin]

I don't think Lilith is naive to the way the souls in Hell (and Heaven) manifest themselves on a behavioral level. She's capable of sensing their frequency, and she's able to tell where their energy gets the most active. Certain cliques get the souls' energy flowing in an almost whirlwind kind of way where their compatible goals and mutual emotional rewards feed off of each other. That's why it's almost impossible to break those bonds apart and get them to see a different perspective. Unless you entice them with a familiar, compatible and recognizable hook, they won't look your way. I think it's a lonely experience to pass through masses of people and see just how closed off everyone truly is.

She fights for them because she feels responsible for them. But she's fighting for something that doesn't even pay attention to her. She truly is on her own.

[cruel-as-sin]

baby, am i your little secret? | logan howlett

pt. 1

↳ summary: well, logan did promise you he’d come again… but this time, you bring him home, and he’s going to take care of you

word count: 3.2k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/ very light plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), lingerie mentioned, size difference, oral (f!recieving), protected p in v, multiple orgasms (reader), praise kink, gentle sex, pet names (sweetheart, baby), aftercare, a little bit of fluff at the end, readers roommate makes a brief appearance, no use of y/n, mention/implication of a gun, the glasses still stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: woah i was not planning on writing a second part or expecting the first one to get as much love as it got… thank you so much to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged! i’ll probably write at least one more part to this at some point but for now, enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan tried to tell himself he shouldn’t go back, he really did.

He’s no good for people like you- sweet, gentle things. He’s no good for anyone.

But despite all the things he tells himself, he still ends up across the street from that damned club, feet carrying him against his better judgement, right up to your door.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s been a little over three weeks since the best fuck you’ve ever had stepped through your door.

You wondered if he really did plan on coming back. Maybe he was just offering a next time to be polite? But every time you remember the way he looked at you, his promise to return, the words he whispered in your ear, you disregard that theory.

He’s coming back- you know it. You just don’t know when.

Your ears perk up when you hear the bell, as they have every time it’s rung since you last saw him- but it’s not him. It never is, and the little ding that used to bring you hope now feels like it’s just taunting you.

So you continue on with your work, trying to forget about him, until that one fateful night when he finally shows.

It’s ten minutes before close when he comes in, a wary gaze searching the room behind those same cheap glasses. His eyes land on you, and you’re approaching him before you even process it, his mere presence magnetic.

���Hey, sweetheart.” He says as you walk over.

“Hi.” You reach out and put a hand on his arm. “Coming back for more, hm?”

“You left quite an impression.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “Can I have another night with you, pretty girl?”

You glance at the clock. Shit. Barely enough time for a dance- maybe. Or…

“Not here.”

His brow furrows in confusion, and you continue.

“This is very unprofessional of me.” You say in a soft, shameful tone that you know makes even the strongest men helpless. “But… I want to take you home.”

Despite the doe eyes you’re giving him, you do mean it- more than you’re letting on. Something feels special about him, like he’s more than just a customer passing through.

But you keep your cards close to your chest as you wait with baited breath for him to accept or decline your offer.

“Alright, pretty girl.” He says with a faint smile. “Lead the way.”

You finish closing up for the night, grabbing your clothes and throwing them on over your work outfit to protect you from the cold. He lingers there as you go, trying to ignore the curious glances from your coworkers.

“If we’re gonna do this, though, I’m gonna need to know your name.” You say casually, glancing back at him.

He contemplates for a moment, seeming to almost say something else before the word leaves his lips. “Logan.” Despite his near misstep, you believe him.

“Logan.” You repeat the name, then give him yours. When he says it back to you, you love the way it rolls off his tongue.

“You sure you’re alright going home with a stranger?” You tease.

“You’re no stranger, sweetheart.” His words make you smile, and you bring him out the back door to your car, a cautious eye on the parking lot as you do.

It’s not Logan you’re worried about. No, if that were the case, you wouldn’t have even considered bringing him home. It’s the others that frequent the establishment, your regulars who get a little too handsy, the extra bold ones that like to linger by the exit long after you close. But none of them are here tonight- it’s just you and him.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional small chatter. When you arrive, you take the elevator up to your floor, pulling out your keys.

You fumble with your keys when you reach the door that signifies you and your roommate’s shared living space, eventually managing to get the door open. “Shoes go right there.” You gesture to a shoe rack next to the entryway, kicking off your own shoes as you struggle to pull the key out of the lock. You hang up your keys and watch him put up his blazer before you finally shut the door behind you.

He’s on you the moment the door closes, but you halt him with a gentle press against his chest. “Hang on. I need to tell my roommate that I’m gonna be busy.” You make sure he sees the glint in your eyes as you walk down the hall, opening the door to your room first.

He steps inside, his eyes roaming around before falling back on you. “Don’t keep me waitin’ too long, sweetheart.”

“I’ll just be a second.” You say with a smile, pulling the door closed before heading across the hall and knocking on your roommate’s door.

After a moment, you hear a brief “Yeah?” from the other side.

You open the door just a crack, poking your head in. Cas, your roommate, pauses the game on their computer and pulls their headphones off, spinning around in their chair to talk to you. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“I’m just letting you know I have company.” You say casually. “So I might be busy for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, yeah, mhm.” Cas says, pretending to be surprised by this revelation. “Is this normal company, or ‘I cover my ears and pray to god my noise cancelling headphones work while someone fucks your brains out’ company?”

You roll your eyes. “Hey, who said I was the one getting my brains fucked out instead of the other way around?”

To that, they just raise an eyebrow, as if to say really?

“Whatever.” You say, unable to hide the smile forming on your face.

“Mhm.” It’s more drawn out this time, punctuated by a tiny knowing smile. “Is this company of yours spending the night?”

“Hopefully. I don’t know.” You say with a shrug. “If you see a stranger in the kitchen, don’t shoot him.” Your tone is lighthearted, but you do mean it- you know Cas gets nervous around intruders, and your gaze flickers just briefly to the locked safe in the corner.

They nod. “No shooting your newest boytoy. Got it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, beginning to pull the door closed. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Night!” They call after you. “And remember, be safe-”

You close the door before they get to finish, laughing softly to yourself before returning to your own room.

You step inside, finding Logan sitting on the edge of your bed, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp on your nightstand. He stands when he sees you, walking over to you as you close the door.

“Hey.” You say softly, looking up at him, taking in his face.

To see a man, even an attractive one, at work is one thing. But here, in your home, your sanctuary, it feels different. Almost… open. Vulnerable. You find yourself noticing details you hadn’t picked up on before- the lines of his face, the way his hardened demeanor seems to become just a little gentler every time he looks at you.

"Hey." He replies in a quiet tone. Even now, outside of your domain, he looks for your guidance, waits for you to take the lead.

You lean in to kiss him- softer, gentler, slower than the last time, savoring the taste of whiskey on his tongue. Your hands trail up his chest, to the collar of his shirt, the edges of his tie. You begin to undo it, pulling apart the knot before his hands come up to grasp yours, stopping you halfway through.

He breaks the kiss to murmur in your ear. “I’m takin’ care of you tonight.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the suggestion. “You don’t have to-” You finish undoing his tie, pulling it away and letting it fall to the floor.

“I want to.” He cuts you off, his tone firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Please.” His voice lowers. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

You meet his gaze for a moment, a little stunned to see that he truly does want to make you feel good. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised- it’s Logan, after all- but still, after most of the men you meet treating your pleasure as an afterthought, the idea alone that he wants tonight to be about you has arousal soaking through your panties.

Nodding, you lower your hands from his collar. “Okay.” You say softly.

He kisses you again, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up. Your legs lock around his waist as he carries you over to the bed, your tongue sliding across his own. He breaks the kiss for a moment to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth meets yours once more.

He lays you down on the bed, his hands moving to your back, undoing the clasp of your bra and pulling it off of you. He kisses a path down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, lips trailing down to your chest. He alternates between sucking on your nipples and kneading your breasts in his hands, causing you to throw your head back with a soft moan.

He kisses down your chest, large hands spreading your thighs open as he pulls your pants down. He nips at your thighs, earning a surprised gasp. He slowly pulls your lingerie aside, revealing your soaking cunt. He inhales slowly, trying to collect himself as he pulls your underwear the rest of the way off and out of his way.

He pushes his glasses up just a little before he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt. He groans against your pussy, sending vibrations shooting up through your core.

"Taste so sweet." He mumbles against you before diving in.

His tongue works magic- and you were right, his beard does feel heavenly against your thighs.

And oh, he takes his time with you. He takes his sweet, sweet fucking time with you.

You don't know how long it's been, nor do you think you care. You’re on cloud nine, feeling too good to even care about your orgasm while simultaneously needing it more than you’ve ever needed anything. Logan knows just how to please you, his tongue delving into your folds, worshipping you.

“Logan,” you eventually manage to whine, “Please.”

You meet his eyes, and he pulls away just enough to answer you. “You need me to make you cum, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically, and that’s all the signal he needs. He dives back in, zeroing in on your clit and sucking in a way that has your peak rapidly approaching within seconds.

You unravel, not even bothering to try to quiet your moans (you're pretty sure it would be futile, anyway). Your eyes squeeze shut, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you, flooding through every part of your body as you reach your high. He keeps his mouth on you the whole time, riding out your orgasm until you begin to come down. His hands rest on your thighs, his steady grip grounding you, keeping your entire being from being washed away by the seemingly unending bliss.

When you can finally breathe again, you open your eyes to find him raising his head, his eyes meeting your own.

“Holy fuck.” You breathe, letting out a small laugh.

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk. “Yeah?”

His beard glistens with your slick, and the sight makes you sit up a little, getting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him up towards you. You kiss him hungrily, tasting yourself on his tongue, once again reaching for the collar of his shirt. You unbutton it fully this time, eager to feel his muscular chest and disappointed to find an undershirt beneath.

He pulls away from the kiss. “Let me.” He takes off his shirt, letting you run your hands up and down his torso as he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. You feel your pussy clenching at the sight of his cock, hard and aching for you.

You sit up a little further, wanting to return the favor, but he gently pushes you back down. “Another time, sweetheart.” He says in response to the pout on your face, pulling a condom out of his back pocket before pushing his pants off the bed. “I said I’d take care of you, remember?”

You watch as he rolls on the condom, mesmerized by the sight of his veiny hands wrapping around his thick cock. “I’m pretty sure you just did.” You protest, any further arguments cut off by a whine as he brushes his tip against your folds.

He chuckles, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

He pushes into you slowly, moving inch by inch until he’s filling you completely. He starts to move, pulling most of the way out before thrusting back in, setting a slow but powerful rhythm that has high pitched whines leaving your lips within moments.

“Christ, you’re fuckin’ desperate.” He says, eyes locked on the place where your bodies meet. “Look at you, just suckin’ me in. You like that, huh? You like being filled up by my cock?”

You’re too cock drunk to manage anything other than a “uh-huh” that turns to a whine as he thrusts harder.

“You’re doin’ so good, taking me so well.” He praises, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He continues to murmur in your ear, your moans and his words a sweet chorus of bliss. You feel his hand slip between your thighs and rub at your clit, and your second orgasm hits you hard and fast with a scream of his name. Your vision goes white, the feeling of him thrusting sharply into all the right places taking over all your senses. You can faintly hear him talking you through it, his voice ragged as he approaches his own orgasm.

“Good girl, that’s it; good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is low in your ear, his breath stuttering as he cums with a loud groan, thrusting through both your peaks, your name leaving his lips.

You feel almost like you’re floating, the pleasure nearing the line of overwhelming. You're only brought back down by the feeling of him slipping out of you, the gentle kisses he leaves along your face- but even then, you don’t open your eyes, still trying to breathe as your pussy pulses with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You hear him get up, hear his footsteps fading away, the bedroom door closing behind him. A pang of hurt goes through you- you didn’t think he’d be the type to just leave. You can’t bring yourself to get up, too exhausted to move, so you just lay there, beginning to drift off. Then you feel a pair of strong arms wrapping around you, lifting you up against his chest and carrying you down the hallway.

You stir, looking up to find Logan half dressed, in only his undershirt and pants. His eyes meet yours, a faint smile forming on his face.

You want to ask where he’s taking you, but your question is quickly answered when he pushes open the door to the bathroom. He gently sets you down in the tub, the warm water enveloping you and making you even sleepier.

“You want me to help you clean up, or would you prefer to do it yourself?” His tone is gentle but firm, making it clear that your well-being is not up for negotiation.

“I can do it.” You force your limbs to move, reaching for a washcloth.

He nods. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

You don’t question where he’s going, solely focused on the task at hand, lest the heaviness in your eyes claim you before you’re finished.

By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned yourself up and wrapped a towel around your waist, feeling at least a little more awake. He gives a gentle knock at the door, and when you murmur a soft, “Come in,” he enters.

His expression turns to one of slight concern when he sees you. You are, admittedly, leaning on the counter for support- it’s not your fault your legs feel like jelly.

You don’t have to ask; you barely even have to look his way before he’s scooping you into his arms again, taking you back to your room. For a moment you wonder how he knew no one would be in the hallway, but you’re too worn out to care.

The soft feeling of your sheets has you practically melting into your bed when he lays you down. You’re almost out the moment your head hits the pillow, but Logan’s voice keeps you awake.

“Here.”

He holds out a glass of ice water and a string cheese.

“Figured you didn’t want to eat much this late, but I thought I’d get you something.”

The action is simple, but sweet. You reach out, taking both items from him and sipping the water as you tear open the string cheese. He lingers near the bed as you finish them both off, a careful gaze trained on you, ensuring you’re okay.

When you’re done, he takes the empty cup and wrapper from you, throwing the wrapper in the trash and setting the glass on your nightstand. At your request, he heads over to your dresser, and you direct him to a plainer pair of underwear, a comfy tank top, and your favorite pair of sleep shorts. He brings them over, taking the towel and folding it over the top of your desk chair as you change into your PJs.

You crawl under your covers, curling up in preparation for the rest your body desperately craves. Logan approaches the bed, smiling to himself as you mumble something half-coherent- a goodnight of some sort, at least, that was your intention. He pulls up the edge of your covers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before he retreats again.

His voice has a softer edge to it when he steps away, turning out your lamp as he goes. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Where are you going?” You murmur, already half asleep, eyes lidded, but still reaching for him.

His brow furrows slightly. “Goin’ home. Figured you didn’t want-”

“Do you want to leave?” You ask, sitting up slightly. Your eyes can be heavy all they like, but you’ll be damned if you let him just walk away again.

He hesitates, lips caught in the beginnings of a no before he corrects himself. “I don’t want to intrude-”

You shush him. “None of that. C’mere.”

He protests no further, rising from where he’d leaned down to pick up the rest of his discarded clothes. He makes his way over to the bed, ditching his work pants in favor of just his boxers before cautiously settling in beside you.

You find yourself drawn to him, hesitantly reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. When he turns to you, you scoot a little closer. After a moment, he shifts to face you, allowing you to nestle yourself within his arms. He pulls you close, his body warm against your skin, his arms wrapping tightly around you. His breath hits your neck, and you close your eyes, letting the smell of smoke and aftershave lull you to sleep.

tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @namikyento @gewrgia-black @r0ttedcherubim

[thatonegayship]

I had to

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971 

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family. 

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time. 

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse. 

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up. 

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.   

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake. 

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort. 

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

 Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides. 

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. 

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.  

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action. 

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?  

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning. 

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,” 

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too. 

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward. 

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign. 

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess. 

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it…  “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling. 

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief. 

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever. 

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice. 

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,” 

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for. 

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity. 

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you. 

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus. 

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy. 

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–” 

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!” 

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office. 

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile. 

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head. 

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more. 

The fucking bitch… 

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you. 

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching. 

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys. 

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and  scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.  

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can. 

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely… 

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily. 

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.  

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own. 

Perfect, you have your reason. 

9th August 1971 

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you. 

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes. 

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed. 

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. 

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.  

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures. 

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo. 

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into?  He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon. 

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed. 

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough. 

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.  

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had 

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant. 

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways. 

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,” 

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely. 

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant. 

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare. 

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them. 

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open. 

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed. 

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame. 

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan. 

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…” 

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know? 

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

TAGLIST : @katdahlali @skepvids @agent-tempest @timhalamet @lovelybaka @cherrysxuya @ttulipwritezz @ireallywannasleep127 @cloudlst @fortheeeefics @younmey @googie-jeon @unstablereader @cassie6392 @kneelforloki @enamoredwithbella @arcanumofthestars @bookworm124 @sonics-atelier @yours-truly-maya @honkravenous @theunwcnted @venuseuripedis @fredsbetch @iciel @anuncalledbridge @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @delusional-4-fake-people @linaax

[neoarchipelago]

Cotton candy pacifier

A/N: Was this scheduled? No. Did I wrote it? Yes. I have a blank page problem right now and went out to an amusement park last weekend. My own hormones have made me fantasize and throw together this shit. Please have mercy on me at this point.

Warnings: (f! Reader x Simon) ADULT CONTENT. 18+ pregancy talk, breeding kink, cursing, p in v. Oral receiving. Slight blood, biting.

Simon never wanted to be a father. Too much baggage and trauma, too much fear of never having a good role model to be a good father. You had talked about it. You had long conversations. And even if you were understanding, accepted this fate, saying that he was all you could ever wish for, words hitting him like a mix of pain and pleasure, he saw the hint of sadness behind your eyes. 

He had tried to be extremely soft, and passionate for months after those discussions, trying to show you how much he loved you. 

So here he was. Black t-shirt tight around his torso, mask on and black cargo pants. Looking at the large group of recruits in front of him. Price Laswell and another higher up beside him as the last warnings were given. 

Soldiers and their families had been offered a full day at an amusement park the military had privatized for the occasion. 

As much as he tried to remain professional, his eyes often turned to you, pretty little excitement sprawled across your face, almost jumping in place. Jeans shorts and tank top with your little backpack, hair messily tied up. Soap was a menace next to you, already giving him a headache. But you were such a lovely sight. 

When finally, the briefing was over and everyone made their merry way into the park, Price, Laswell and Ghost walked towards the group. Laswell joined her wife and so did Price, the two little munchkins jumping at the sight of their dad. You immediately rushed to Ghost's side as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Soap was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, gaz not too far behind causing Price's kids to be overexcited. Ghost sent them a warning look before everyone headed for the first attraction. 

The morning went smoothly, Soap and Gaz betting on who would handle the worst roller coasters while Price and his wife indulged in some of them, as you accepted to look over the kids during the ride time. The kids were thrilled to simply spend time with their Uncle Ghost, sometimes joined by Soap and Gaz, for small carousels or mild roller coasters. The parents were thankful and indulged in some time without taking care of the kids too much. 

It was what first started bugging him. The way you were happily cleaning up Kyle's chin as ice cream had dripped down. The look in your eyes made something burn in him. Or the way the little Lily munched on a few fries in your arms while you made sure her little hat was secured and her skin hadn't been too touched by the sun. 

He didn't mind at all John's kids. He even liked spending time and taking care of them, feeling a sense of protectiveness over the small cute beings. He sometimes grumbled that Soap and Gaz were even harder to take care of than John's well behaved kids. 

Something else bothered him. Not the little heart strings being pulled when he saw you smiled at him when he won two plushies for the kids. He was almost sure you looked at him with something between happiness, adoration and pure fucking need. He was almost taken aback by it but also by the way he absolutely adored seeing that look on your face. That same look that seemed to show up more and more through the day, as he held Kyle on his shoulders, or held Lily as she fed on her bottle.

But it vanished quite quickly. When another recruit whispered to you that the lieutenant seemed to be the perfect dad and you two would be amazing parents. He had heard. Of course he did. He was a trained soldier with years of experience and trauma. 

After that, you had avoided eye contact when he held up the kid unless it was a polite smile or kind smile. You'd turn to the child in his hold for something but ignore his gaze on you. You weren't exactly sad. Something else was laced with your new avoidance. It was growing on his nerves. That and the new intrusive thoughts of you, holding a child. The image far in his mind, a high resemblance with you and a mix of him. 

He could feel his fists clench as the images rushed through his mind. You, glowing under the sun, swollen with his child. The idea mixed with his fear. He tried to pull you closer to him as you held the little girl, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as the little girl reached for his mask without an ounce of fear in her eyes. He could feel your breath hitch and the shiver that ran through you. His hand reached for the little girl's cheek, barely pinching, making the girl giggle. The soft skin against rough calloused one, hands that saw more horrors than the child would ever witness. 

"S..Simon?" You stuttered, turning your head to send a questioning look. 

He didn't answer, only dropping a kiss on your head through the mask. The idea crept in his mind, nesting there and haunting his mind. Price noticed. Of course he did. He knew Simon all too well, even through the mask. 

"Ghost. What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to him. 

Simon remained silent, eyes looking at you as you ate the soft cloudy pink thing in your hand. 

"If you keep looking at her like that she'll notice." He teased. 

"She wants kids." Simon blurted out. 

"And you don't.." Price deduced. Simon groaned, closing his eyes. "Simon. Talk to me." Price added. 

"I… shit." Simon felt the frustration grow. "I'll never be a good father. Fuck. I don't know what's a good father." 

"Now you're hurting my pride and feelings." Price added. 

Simon's head snapped towards the man who arbourded one of his signature smiles. 

"I didn't mean… Price, you're an amazing father." Simon caught himself. 

"I wouldn't say amazing. No one's perfect." He clarified, straightening himself. "But I try." He smirked. "Simon. It is your decision whether or not you want to have kids, and her decisions to accept it or not. But don't take that decision based on your past. You are not that man." He said, eyes locking into Simon's one. "I'd like to think, I raised you all to be better than that." He joked. 

He was right. Price was the closest thing to a father he ever had. The best role model he could think of. It didn't erase the fear of it all. But a tiny part of his brain was unlocked, one that might see himself with a baby later on. Price patted his back, smiling again before getting up to join his wife. Simon tried to look at you, falling into your pretty eyes. He frowned at the worried look on your features. He straightened himself, subtly patting his thigh. He cursed under his breath watching you obediently skip to him to sit on his lap. 

"Are you.. ok, Simon?" You asked, a low voice. 

"I'm ok baby. Are you ok love? " he asked as well. You looked away for a second, making him slightly squeeze your thigh. "Talk to me Y/N." He insisted. 

You bit your lip before looking up at him with your pretty soft eyes. 

"I'm sorry…" you whispered. 

"You're sorry baby?" He frowned. "Tell me why." 

"For.. I mean.. I've been with the kids all day so far.." you stumbled on your explanation. 

"Yes. You have, why are you apologizing about that?" He was confused. 

"I know… you don't want kids… we've talked about it. I don't want to annoy you by playing mama-" 

He groaned, eyes shutting closed. Images of you playing 'mama' making his cock twitch in his pants. Now where did this new attraction come from? 

"I'm sorry Simon!" You whined. His eyes snapped open.

"No baby. I'm not mad. I'm not annoyed.. don't think that." He reassured, his hand leaving your thigh to softly caress your cheek. 

"You're… not?" You asked, a slight hint of relief in your voice. 

"Of course not baby. Shit… you've been.. beautiful, playing mama.." he hissed. 

He watched you blink, with a little shocked expression on your face. You tilted your head slightly. 

"What..?" You asked. 

"So fucking pretty… with Lily at your hip.." Simon groaned again, face burying in your neck, his pants getting uncomfortable. You shivered slightly. 

"S-simon…" you whined a bit. "There's… people…" 

As if on cue with your words, his hand caressed your thighs, featherlight fingers up and down your skin, sometimes too close to the burning heat growing in between your legs. He was supposed to behave. Just like he had instructed the recruits this morning at the briefing. But you looked tempting. And the new images in his head, him fucking his seed deep in you, with the slight possibility of watching you later on with your own baby. He was a pleaser after all. Your hands squeezed slightly his shoulders, trying to squirm nearer to him. 

"Fuck.." he cursed against your neck. "Need you baby.." he growled against your ear. 

"We… the car.." you tried, making him grin at your already hazy mind, just from the thought of him fucking you. 

"No. Too long." He shook his head. He tapped your thigh lightly to make you stand, as you looked at him with a questioning look. He intertwined the tip of your fingers with his, barely pulling you forwards in front of him, your obvious compliance making him eager. He made you walk, sending a last glance to the group as Price caught his eye, shaking his head playfully at him. 

His hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the nearest 'staff only' door. 

"S..sir, you can't-" 

Simon threw a death glare to the poor employee who simply walked away, pretending not to have seen anything. You were softly pushed inside, the door closing behind the both of you.

"Simon-" 

He had already lifted his mask above his nose, hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed your lips softly. A sigh escaped him, as if he finally felt the tension release from his muscles. You stepped closer to him, hands on his chest, a burning touch that made him crave more. Perhaps you were the sun, burning brightly for him, and he was Icarus, with the only goal to fly to you, no matter if you burn down his wings. He made sure to wrap his arm around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he pushed you back against the wall. Once he was sure you were safely against the wall, his hands now caressed your body freely, pushing and pulling at your clothes, only aching to feel your skin against his. 

You were already whimpering, your hands slipping under his shirt, nails softly scratching his lower back giving him goosebumps. He ached for more. Needed to feel you. His hand pulled on your top with a rougher pull, freeing your perky breast. 

"Simon! Someone could… walk in-" your complaints turned into a moan as his mouth found your sensitive nipple. You pushed forward your chest, giving him more access. 

"So willing for me princess…" he groaned against your skin. You whined, hand at the back of his neck, trying your best to stifle your moan. His cock was painfully hard, images of you pregnant with his child only bringing him over the edge of control. He kneeled suddenly as you gasped, his hands undoing your short's button and zipper with expertise before pulling them down with your panties. He lifted one of your legs making you grab onto his shoulders to keep balance. 

"Need to taste you.." 

His hands hooked under your legs, wrapping around your ass before he planted a soft kiss on your naked lips. He could almost make such a sinful act look like the purest of them all. His eyes looked up at you, the sight of him down on his knees, mouth against your already soaked pussy made you whine pornographicly. His eyes were firmly planted into yours as his tongue slowly darted out, almost lazily, licking a stripe across your folds, not dipping in. You whimpered at the sight, your hands meeting the side of his face as you looked down at him lovingly, abandon written all over your gaze. 

He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling unworthy of such dedication. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you as he groaned, feeling the wetness of his boxers as his cock leaked precum. He swirled the tip of his tongue on your puffy clit a few times, delicately before losing once again all control. He ate you like his life depended on it, his hips thrusting forwards slightly at a higher moan from you. 

"Simon!" You hissed, scolding him from making you be so loud. 

You weren't truly mad. How could you when his tongue was dragging you to the pits of hell where he sat on his throne ready to fuck you just like you like it. He was your devil, your beast, the one you'd happily sin for, give in your soul and life to. You shut your eyes, feeling the familiar high approaching. You whined his name, but he knew. Of course he knew. One would say you were an open book to him. He'd say you were a holy scripture. You'd say that he was the only one able to decipher you. 

When you felt your body shake, stars behind your eyelids from pleasure and your hand hitting the wall behind, Simon's grip tightened on you, making sure to hold you up. You were panting when he pulled back, licking his lips greedily. He let his forehead fall against your stomach as his fingers traced down lazily to your still pulsating pussy. Two fingers at your entrance, toying with you before slowly pushing inside. 

"Simon… ah.. please.." you moaned, unable to keep your level down. 

He thrusted slowly, making sure to stretch you slightly, preparing your tightness to him. The impatience was killing him. Now was too much. His fingers left your heat, his tongue lapping at his fingers as he moaned against them. He got up, kissing you again, tongue demanding and dominating. His hand flew to his belt unbuckling it single handedly without breaking the kiss. Your breath hitched at the sound of it. 

"Need to have you now… need to fuck you.." he said, his voice deeper and tone darker. The heavy contrast with the screams and laughter from outside of the door. Yes. Your devil. 

But as he lifted you up, hands hooking underneath your knees, his tip at your entrance- when did he even?!- you snapped into reality. 

"Simon wait! We don't have any condoms!" You yelped. 

Condoms? Ah yes… you had stopped the pill two months ago for some hormonal problem. Shit… his mind went blank, neurons gone to play cards or something while the little naughty thoughts of his newly found kinks spurred his nerves. He bottomed out in one thrust, your wetness helping but the stretch and burn still present as you yelped. 

"Si.." you tried to shake him out of his trance. 

"Shh.. baby, let go… it's ok…" he shushed, hips thrusting up into slow movements, easing the burn and letting his fat cock rub against your walls the way he knows you like it. You were trying to keep a stern face, trying to scold him, but you'd lie if you'd say his behavior didn't truly turn you on. The position only helped him grind your clit, sending little electricity waves up your spine. When he finally had your brain into a cockdrunk mush, he grinned, picking up the pace. Your hands holding on to dear life around his shoulders as you whined and moaned loudly, eyes glossy and brows furrowed in a little pout. 

"That's it baby… good girl… god you look so pretty, fuck, look so pretty taking this fat cock…" he groaned, making you squeeze around him, second orgasm way too close already. How did he even get you there so fast? He was damned skilled but shit… the way he looked at you. Logic gone, pupils dilated, muscles flexing underneath your palms. He looked ready to devour you… or devote himself to you. At this point you were sure both were knotted into a messy curse. What had happened to have him completely lose himself? Risk it all for a wild fuck? 

A ping sadness coursed through you, probably flashing through your eyes as he thrusted deeper once to grab your attention. 

"What's wrong baby?" He panted, slowing down his pace to slow, longing thrusts. 

"You're… ah…Si… you're risking.. a lot…" you whined, trying to focus through the pleasure. He was. He definitely was. And he loved it. Loved the idea to fill you up with his seed and pump you full until he was sure to see you round with his- 

"God.. fuck." He cursed loudly, craving giving him goosebumps as he slammed roughly into you. His mind was dirty talking him into a mess. "Yes. Shit. I'm risking it. I want it. Fuck. I need it." He chanted. 

The heat rose to your cheeks, you didn't know if his words did something, but you came hard, unable to keep the loud moan echoing through the room. 

"Wh..what..? Simon!" You tried to gather your thoughts. 

A little tsk escaped him. Now that wouldn't do. He needed to up his game. You were thinking too much. His face was close to yours. Eyes boring into your very soul that you knew he had a chokehold on. 

"Did I fucking stutter? You've been so pretty today…" he growled. "Acting like a mama with the kids… shit… been trying to stop myself from bending you over the, fuuuck… nearest surface just to breed this pretty little cunt.." you were going to talk. Say something but he cut you off. "We'll talk… not now… focus on me. Let me make you feel good… enjoy the feeling… the idea of me stuffing you full of my cum.." he rasped against the skin of your neck. 

A curse, a jinx. Perhaps a devil but also some old god that came to ensnare you. You obeyed. Willingly give in. Entrusting him. The idea blooming in your mind, his eyes trapping you in that familiar feeling of no one else in the world but the two of you. No more laughs and screaming from outside. Nothing more but the two of you, the feeling of his length splitting you open at a reckless pace. 

"Good girl… there you go.." he praised, feeling you relax in his arms, finally unable to think of anything else but him. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, the grinding of your clit making you jolt slightly, tears overwhelming you. 

"S'good.. so… good…" you whined, tears running down your cheeks now. 

"Yes baby… shit, so fucking good… you're doing good." His thrusts were sloppier, the sound of skin slapping and the sound of wetness filled the air. You were going to cum again, that one would wreck you. But wasn't this Simon's favorite pastime? Wreck you. Ruin you until the only thing on your mind is him. 

"Si-" you moaned hiding in his neck. 

"I know baby… I know… me too… s'close.." he moaned as he let his head back, giving you access to his neck. You nudged the fabric of the mask with your nose, just enough to show skin you could sink your teeth into as he made you bounce on his cock like you weighed nothing. 

"You gonna cum for me? Milk my cock deep in you?" You moaned pitifully as an answer. "Yes you are mama… make me so proud of how well you're taking me…" 

His new found nickname he found for you made something in you snap. You sank your teeth into his neck, the pain making him groan and jolt his hips up, hitting that sweet spot of yours. Now he was focused. Had a goal. His hips slamming into you at the perfect angle to make you crumble. And you were going to. He could feel it. His own high dangerously close. 

"Cum with me mama… milk daddy and keep it all inside baby…" he cooed with a hiss as you bit another spot on his neck. 

You shuddered around him, hips trembling trying to meet his thrusts, not that you needed it. The next wave of pleasure was blinding, your whines lost in sobs, nails digging into his back through the shirt, teeth drawing tiny droplets of blood on his neck. The loud curse, followed by moans as his sticky warm cum filled you up so deeply made your mind dizzy, your hearing gone for a few seconds. 

He remained like this as you both tried to breathe the same air. His cock deep in you, plugging you full.

"Simon.." you sobbed. 

He shushed you, lulled you in his arms, rocking left and right. 

"Did so good baby… proud of you." He kissed your hair, slipping out of you before quickly putting you down on your feet, helping you stand before kneeling to help you slip back your panties and shorts back on. He zipped them up and buttoned the jean fabric. 

"Darling… I'm still dripping with your cum…" you whined through a hiccup. 

He let you slowly back against the wall just enough to shove his cock back in his briefs, closing his cargo pants. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He looked around the room, now taking in your surroundings, some kind of storage rooms for props. An old couch in a fairy tale against a wall. He picked you up bridal style, walking to the piece of furniture before sitting down, cradling you in his lap. He hugged you tight, praises kissing your skin. 

"Simon… where did that come from…" you tried making him look at you. 

"I…" he tried, clearing his voice. The reality of what he did hit him. "I've been watching you with the kids all day… don't know, what came over me…" he said, in some sort of apology. 

"It's.. I'll get a plan B…" you mumbled. 

"No-" he hurried. You looked at him in shock. "Listen… we'll talk about this… I, need to talk about this again. I don't know if I changed my mind, but I definitely… like, the idea of you bearing my child." He spoke, voice strained, unsure of his own words, feelings running across his mind at full speed. 

"We'll talk about it then… but.. this" you blushed, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the way your panties were soaked with a mix of the both of you. "It happened…" 

"Yeah… it did. I think… we still have a bit of time to think about it… doesn't have to be now. We'll talk at home. Just.. sorry I lost my shit." He apologized. 

"I like it…" you whispered. His heart jumped. 

"Oh mama… don't make me bend you over the couch…" he warned. 

You giggled. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, nuzzled against your neck. Yes. You'd talk about it. You had to. He had to face every possible consequence of his actions. And make up his mind. He kept you in his arms for a long half an hour, making you giggle and cuddling you close to him. When he finally stood up with you, watching close your eyes and bite your lip, probably at the sensation of his seed dripping into your panties, he fought the need to simply fuck you again, or put you in his car and drive home to keep you in bed for the rest of the weekend. 

"Simon! No!" You scolded. 

You had seen his gaze. You knew that burning gaze. He smirked before pulling down his mask, walking to the door with you. The sun was blinding, the noise of the park bringing you back to the real world. Simon glared again at the poor employee who immediately looked away. He held your hand as you both walked through the park, looking for the rest of the group. Soap was the first one to notice you, loudly calling you, bringing your attention to the group. 

"Hey! Where have you guys been?! Ghost you gotta ride that roller coaster with me!" He excitedly blurted out. Ghost sighed, making Soap roll his eyes with an overdramatic groan. 

"Come on Y/N! You're coming then! You splash in the water after" He smirked at you. 

Ghost tightened his hold on you, hand swiftly wrapping around your waist. 

"I think Y/N needs a moment of rest. I think she's wet enough…" John's wife said, a teasing look towards you, making you blush madly. 

"What are you talking about? She's totally dry…" Soap argued with a frown, looking at her and then at you and your blushing face. His eyes widened when his mind snapped things together. He stepped back, widening his stance to point a finger at Ghost. 

"You naughty rascal! In an amusement park?! After telling us to behave?!" He almost yelled. 

You hid your face in your hands. Little Kyle turned his attention to Soap while Lily giggled in her mom's arms. 

"Soap…" Ghost warned. 

"You're an animal." Soap shook his head, emphasizing the last word. 

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. Lily leaned forward, grabby hands towards Ghost. His eyes softened picking up the girl in his arms, slowly rocking her. Soap had gone from his rant to being scolded by Price for being so loud as Gaz laughed and John's wife tended to her son. Simon looked down at you, freezing on the spot. The look of lust, craving and desire in your eyes. Perhaps… This was getting interesting. 

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU GAVE ME ROSES / I LEFT THEM THERE TO DIE

touya todoroki x reader

touya loved you in december, and now he can’t go back. so instead, he writes to you.

inspired by back to december

doll,

i hope you’re okay, wherever the hell you are now. a guy like me, you’d think i have death all figured out by now. but i don’t. i don’t know where you’ve been taken, but i hope its somewhere good and bright. in other words, i hope its somewhere better than this shit hole.

hows life? hows your family? just kidding. i know its going terrible because i’m a selfish bastard who didn’t protect you like i should have. do you hate me now? i still don’t understand why you didn’t when you were around. you have terrible taste in men, baby.

the last time i saw you. god damn, its burned in the back of my mind. i’ll never forget your face, doll. you saw me out there, fighting off those damn heroes and you didn’t even look scared for yourself. you look worried, and i’ll never understand why you went charging in there yourself. both of us know i ain’t worth saving.

but this is me swallowing my pride.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry i stayed around, and let you fall in love with me. if you hadn’t met me, you’d be fine. you would have never gotten involved with a scumbag like me. and… you’d still be here. don’t know if i’ll ever forgive myself for that. for any of it.

god, if i only realized what i had when you were mine. what i’d give to go back to december, doll. see your face in the snow, your pink nose scrunched up. i complained about taking care of you when you were sick, but i hope you know i’d do it a million times over. i never answered your question when you asked me why i’m so good. its because of my mom.

i havent been sleeping, doll. my mind replays when i left you. why’d you have to chase after me? why not just let whatever happens happen to me? only you believe you could change fate, not even for yourself but for me. i don’t know what to make of that. i sure as hell don’t deserve that shit.

i miss your skin, your sweet smile. you were so good to me, so god damn right. the way you’d hold me in your arms, even when i couldn’t cry- its like you’d know when i wanted to. and i’m fucking idiot for dreaming, for even having wishful thinking.

but if i could love you again, i’d do it right. i’d go back in time and change it all.

but i can’t.

and now you’re gone.

i know i said i’d give your ashes to your parents, but remember- i’m a selfish asshole. i’ll hold on to them for now. i’ll see you again soon, anyway. and wherever the hell that is, i’ll turn it around. make it all right. you deserve it.

touya

[teaboot]

so if. hypothetically. you have a friend dealing with a Situation and you have to metaphorically muzzle the Rage Dragon when they talk about it bc murder is unfortunately not a viable solution here

how do u deal w that and give a response that isn’t “do you want me to fight them for you”

How to help a friend with a shithead without committing crimes:

Offer a safe place to speak. Listen to their troubles and keep their complaints in confidence, unless you believe them to be in imminent danger. It's important to know that there are people who won't leak your strife back to the source.

Plan for emergencies. Arrange a safe word or a place to meet if things get bad. Failing that, help pick a place to run away to if needed- your place, a relatives place, a motel, a hostel, whatever, so that a select few can know where to look if they need to vanish.

Meme with them. Talk shit about the fucker. Speak out when they describe something that sounds like dickhead behaviour. Sometimes it just helps to be seen.

Document the problems. Either encourage them to write stuff down or do it yourself. If things get bad, whetger through violence or an HR issue or whatever, it will feel more secure and lend credible backup if things suddenly get worse. It can also be a good way to check if you're exaggerating or making things up, if those are doubts you have.

Just be a bro. You know what sucks worse than dealing with bullshit? Dealing with bullshit alone. Hang in there.

Know when to walk away. This one is more for you than the friend. The truth is, you can't really solve problems for people very often. More often than not, their fate is in their own hands, and all you can do is be supportive. Remember not to take on their life. It's hard, especially when it's someone you love, to just... not take over, not make everything better yourself, not protect them or intervene or mediate... but sometimes you gotta. It feels bad, but you gotta.

Hope life gets better, bud

[miquellaluciscaelum]

Spoilers Elden ring DLC

Thoughts about Miquella's and Ranni's destinies.

I came across a video in Tiktok about how Ranni never had a good relationship with Golden twins because of Miquella's manipulativeness and his ability to enchant people. Well, first of all, this is stupid. We don't know what kind of relationship Ranni and Miquella had, but they definitely weren't full of hatred for each other, on the contrary, there are much more hints that they had some kind of connection, maybe even worked together on their goals.

But this is half of the trouble, in the comments people, as always proved that faith in humanity is absolutely in vain. The best you could hear there was, of course, that Miquella was just manipulating people and that he was the main villain of the story, which we were told from the beginning in the description of the branch. It went on to speculate, or even claim, that Miquella was definitely manipulating everyone around him, especially Malenia and Godwyn (unbelievably how brothers and sisters who for a long time only had each other in an unfriendly and dangerous world, where being different or deviating from the general line meant being an outcast, could sincerely love and understand each other? and of course no way Godwyn could love and cherish his brothers and sisters because he had once lost his younger brothers and did not want to lose these too).

But the funniest and scariest thing for me, actually the thing that pissed me completely off and made me write this post is that people are seriously so praising Ranni. In comments of the video, where they're condemning Miquella’s actions, they’re saying how cool Ranni is. Fuck, seems like nothing in these people’s heads works? I have nothing against Ranni, she is a character with a cool story, motivation, her quest is one of the most interesting in the game, and the ending is one of the most memorable and cinematic. But it’s so hypocritical. Ranni was literally the one who brought all shit into the fan, the Shattering was caused by her, she orchestrated the murder of a member of the royal family with a terrible weapon, the influence of which spread a literally deadly plague across the land, and blessed Tarnished to do whatever it took to help her, including killing one of her brothers.

The best thing to say is that Miquella and Ranni are worth each other when it comes to "the ends justifies the means". But I don’t see the point in saying which one is better or worse, who is kinder or nobler, who has pursued what goals. For me personally, the whole point of Ranni and Miquella is how their stories ended. Because when Ranni succeeded, Miquella lost, but why? They both did some very shady shit, manipulated, killed, etc. but Ranni got what she wanted while Miquella didn’t. I personally think it’s selfishness. There’s a healthy ego and ambition in Ranni. There’s ambition in Miquella too, after all, he is empyrean but the huge difference is that Ranni has all of her ambitions focused on herself. She sacrifices herself, yes, she literally kills her own body, but that’s the sacrifice she was willing to make, just as much as she was willing to give to get rid of the influence of the Great will. Her soul, her heart, her will, her faith and her principles, they all remain the same from beginning to end, she does not sacrifice her personality, she does not change course, even when faced with difficulties or losses in her way. Because she’s doing it for herself first. Ranni does not aim to save the world or make it a better place, or to help all the poor and sick. Her motivation may be the desire of power, revenge for the fate of her mother, hatred for the Golden order - all that you want and all those reasons are deeply selfish.

Miquella doesn’t want to change the world for himself. He thinks about his sister, about his brother, about the people he’s taken under his protection. He wants to create a better world for them. And this is the point. He’s very altruistic and sacrificial. When it comes to sacrificing himself for the greater good, he does it without a hesitation, but if Ranni gives only what she is allowing to give, Miquella gives everything. And it is a mistake, his biggest mistake. He was thinking about everyone else except himself. Pushed himself too far and eventually lost himself completely. He threw away everything that had made him him, on his way to the top and there was nothing left in the end. No heart, no soul, no love, no kindness. How can you create a kind world if there’s nothing kind left in you?

That’s the key point, because he’s changing the world with his kindness and compassion because he’s capable of it. But when he dropped it, it just didn’t make any sense. I think at the end he was nothing more than an empty shell of a man who had only a phantom target on the horizon, he doesn’t remember what he was doing all this for or nobody who he left behind. He chose the path of absolute self-sabotage and this could not have been successful in any way under the circumstances. If Miquella had become a god, he would have simply become new Marika and continued the cycle. By abandoning himself, Miquella became part of this vicious circle and cruel world. His kindness and compassion were very things that made him special and gave him the power to change the world around him.

I think that’s why Saint Trina asks us to kill Miquella. Free him from the cage of divinity and grant him forgiveness. To me, it looks as if Miquella himself asked us to kill him (she is literally a being born out of his discarded parts), because somewhere deep inside, when he had not gone too far, he understood the wrongness of the way, that was chosen, he wanted forgiveness for all that was done, but he had no way back, nothing to go back to.

In the end:

Ranni, being selfish and purposeful, succeeds and breaks the vicious circle, takes away the Golden order and leaves the world that she does not care much about to recover on its own.

Miquella, being altruistic and compassionate, tries to change the world and the cruel system, but completely loses himself and his goal along the way, becomes part of a vicious cycle of senseless cruelty and dies.

Could he have succeeded? Yes, I believe that. He could have succeeded, but not as a god. At least not as someone who would have taken Marika’s place. In fact, the divinity through the Elden ring and the Divine gate are no different, Marika was on both ends and we all know what have happened to her. I believe that Miquella could have achieved so much more without being a god, without becoming a part of this vicious circle. He had already achieved more than anyone could have imagined with his tree, with the Unalloyed gold, against the Outer gods, and he was not god all this time. If he had found a way to break his curse, if he had been able to do it as he had planned through  Haligtree, history would have gone a whole different way.

To me, he was not and will not be the villain of this story. He’s just another victim, from a long list of suffered the cruelty and injustice of the Elden Ring world.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 2

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Saturday afternoon lunch rush keeps Isla on her toes, weaving around tables and balancing trays of plates and glasses as she serves those seated in her section. The weather is beautiful out, so lots of customers snagged tables in the outdoor section, the air a delightful scent of salt and wood. Music plays through the speakers of the restaurant, but it’s drowned out by the constant chatter and clinking of utensils.

“Want a refill on that Dr. Pepper, Charlie?” Isla asks one of their regulars, an older man who always dons the same Budweiser trucker cap.

He gives her a kind smile, looking up from his sudoku book. “I’d appreciate that, Isla.”

She grins at him as she picks up the last of the dirty plates from a nearby table, piling them on the tray before carrying it over towards the kitchen window, dropping them off so they can be taken care of. Isla makes quick work of getting Charlie a fresh glass of his soda before going around the counter where Kie is putting in an order in one of the monitors. Before Isla can get started on the other one, the kitchen bell rings.

“Order for pickup!” comes Earl’s shout, and Isla turns to grab the paper bag to put it on the table behind the counter designated for pickup orders. 

When she goes to the other monitor to put in the order for table seventeen, Kie says from her left, “The guys are planning a party tonight at the Boneyard.”

Isla cracks a smile, unsurprised by this. As summer rolls around, she knows they’re in for a lot of parties and boat days. “Any special occasion for this one?”

Isla can sense Kie’s hesitation, and when she glances at her sister—younger than Isla by eleven months—she sees Kie pressing her lips together before meeting Isla’s gaze. “JJ’s dad’s in jail again.” 

Isla’s eyes widen, jaw dropping. Luke Maybank getting arrested is never new news, but Isla knows every time he gets out, he takes out his anger on JJ. Her best friend is too prideful to talk about it, but she doesn’t miss the bruises, the cuts. Neither do the others. But JJ isn’t the talkative type, so they show their support in other ways. Always.

“What the hell did he do now?” Isla asks, frustration coloring her voice. If there’s one person in this world she hates, it’s JJ’s dad, simply because of the abuse he inflicts on his son. It’s why JJ always stays at John B’s, whether his dad is in jail or not. 

“Drunk and disorderly and resisting arrest,” Kie answers with a roll of her eyes. But Isla doesn’t miss her sister’s own anger, sees it in the way Kie clenches her jaw. And why wouldn’t she? JJ is one of her best friends, and if there’s one thing Isla loves about her sister, it’s Kie’s fierce loyalty to the people she loves, her protectiveness over them. Especially where JJ is concerned. Their whole group keeps an extra eye on the blonde, whether he likes it or not. “I think he might be in for six months this time.”

Isla’s eyebrows shoot up, pausing in her work to look at her sister. “Seriously?” She whistles. “That’s his longest stint in a while, isn’t it? Is JJ gonna crash at the chateau?”

Kie nods. “He’s playing it off like he doesn’t care, but I know he’s sick of his dad’s shit.”

Nodding, Isla huffs out a breath. “Yeah, we all are.”

“Yeah.” Kie also lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I just want—oh, what the hell is he doing here?”

Isla glances at Kie, but her sister is looking past her, towards the front door of the restaurant over Isla’s shoulder. Kie’s features are hard as stone, dark eyes blazing with a kind of contempt and anger she saves for a select few people. Her jaw works, and Isla turns her head towards the door to see who she’s looking at—only for her to feel her stomach drop at the sight of Rafe strolling towards them.

He’s in a dark green, short sleeve collared shirt and navy blue cargo shorts that his hands are shoved into the pockets of. Isla presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth because his gaze seems to find hers instantly even in the crowded restaurant, muscles tightening until she straightens where she’s standing. Something stirs in the air as he draws near, his walk infuriatingly confident, and then he has the gall to smirk as he reaches the counter, standing on the opposite side in the space between where Isla and Kie stand.

“Kie,” Rafe greets, leaning forward with his arms resting on the counter, looking up at them with bright blue eyes. Kiara doesn’t say anything in response, her expression practically a sneer, but Rafe pays her no mind as his gaze shifts to the older Carrera. “Isla.”

Maybe she’s crazy, but she swears he says her name differently. As if it’s a secret shared between them. It sends a tickle down her spine she doesn’t dare to acknowledge. The crowd of the restaurant can’t be held accountable for the heat that spreads across Isla’s skin. Damn it.

“What do you want?” Kie demands, her tone unfriendly as always, where Rafe is concerned.

And, as always, he isn’t deterred by her tone. He shoots her an easy smirk and says, “Picking up my order.”

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Isla turns towards the trolley behind her, reaching for the bag Earl had handed over. Reading the name on the receipt, Isla confirms it’s Rafe’s, already paid for, and turns back to the counter, placing it in front of him. “Thanks,” he says with a too friendly grin as he straightens, reaching for the bag. His eyes then meet Isla’s and he arches an eyebrow. “You get your car fixed?”

Isla’s eyes widen slightly at his question, especially when she feels Kie’s gaze suddenly on her, hot and questioning. But she doesn’t dare meet her sister’s stare, and instead glares at Rafe. She sees that glint of mischief in his eyes, deliberate in his question in front of Kie, and Isla has to resist the urge to grab his bag of food and hit him with it. 

Isla’s fingers curl into her palms as her hands rest on the counter, bracing herself, though she’s trying not to lose it because by Rafe asking that one question, she knows she’s in for a lot more from Kie.

“Uh, yeah, it’s in the shop,” Isla answers stiltedly, throat tightening. “Should be good as new.”

Rafe’s smirk is antagonizing but attractive at the same time, and she wonders if she would’ve thought that before last night. Hell, it’s concerning that she’s thinking about it again now. This is the same guy her friends hate, who hates her and her friends, who has gotten into more than a few fist fights with her boys. Isla is pretty sure just thinking that Rafe Cameron is handsome is a betrayal to the Pogues.

“Good,” Rafe says with a dip of his chin, grabbing the top of the brown paper bag as he smoothly pushes away from the counter. He winks at her, then, and says, “One night of playing hero was enough for me,” before turning while grabbing his sunglasses that hang from the neckline of his shirt, putting them on as he heads out of the restaurant.

Isla clenches her jaw as she watches him go, because she knows he knows he just opened a can of worms in front of Kie and left Isla to deal with it by herself. Because, no doubt, as soon as he’s walking away, Kie is stepping up next to her with a hand on her hip and a demanding, “What the hell was that about?”

While Isla is older, Kie is the taller one, having a good four inches on Isla with her five-foot-nine height. So Kie stares down at her, eyebrow raises and a determined look on her face that tells Isla she won’t be dropping it until she gets the answers she wants. “Um—”

“How’d he know about your car?” she pushes, brown eyes searching Isla’s.

Isla had told her about her car breaking down last night, having no choice but to confess because one, Kie noticed her car wasn’t in the driveway and two, Isla needed a ride to work this morning. But Isla had told her and their parents the same thing—that the car broke down, and she stayed in it until an Uber showed up to pick her up. She completely omitted the part about those two creepy guys, and her running away and right into Rafe’s arms—literally. 

It seems, though, her evasion of the truth was for nothing, all thanks to Rafe. What a dick.

Kie’s questioning gaze is incessant and makes Isla’s body tighten with anxiety, until she finally drops her shoulders and throws her head back in defeat. “Okay, fuck, fine, but you can’t tell Mom and Dad,” Isla says hastily, turning to her sister. The busy restaurant seems to be on the back burner for now.

Kie looks even more confused. “Can’t tell Mom and Dad what?”

Nervously tightening her ponytail, Isla quickly tells Kie about last night’s events. About the car breaking down, those guys pulling up, pepper spraying one of them and making a run for it until she ran into Rafe and he, surprisingly, helped her out by giving her a lift home instead of having Isla wait for a ride. Kie’s expressions go from confused, to horrified, to bewildered and freaked out all at the right times, her jaw dropping lower and lower by the time Isla finishes her story.

When Kie doesn’t say anything right away, Isla blows out a breath. “Just—don’t tell Mom and Dad about those freaks, okay? And don’t tell the others about Rafe. They’d all try to skin me alive.” With a one shouldered shrug, Isla adds, “Except maybe Sarah.”

Kie is shaking her head, lips parted. “I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Rafe Cameron actually helped you.”

A dry chuckle escapes Isla. “Yeah, you and me both. But, you know—” She spots the hostess, Lara, seating someone in her section. “It was a one time thing. Wrong place, wrong time type thing,” she says with a laugh, though it sounds forced even to her own ears because despite the weirdness of it all, Isla is grateful to Rafe for helping her last night. Despite what she said, she hadn’t really wanted to stick around and wait for an Uber, or her friends or dad to pick her up. She wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, and Rafe had been the most viable option.

Before Isla can respond, Kie scoffs and adds with a roll of her eyes, “Of course, he’s gonna be a smug asshole about it, too.”

Isla snorts. “Are we surprised?” she says as she walks around the counter. “I’ve got a table.”

The rest of her shift goes by uneventfully, though Isla can admit that she feels like some weight has shifted off her shoulders after telling Kie about last night. The two of them tell each other everything, so NOT telling her, though for good reason, felt like a huge weight had landed on her shoulders. Now that she knows, some of it is off, though Isla knows the rest is because of the truth hidden from her friends. And while Kie’s reaction was far more understated than Isla had feared, she knows the same can’t be said for her friends. 

Pogues don’t keep secrets from each other, but this might have to be an exception. 

******

The Boneyard is a mixed crowd, as it almost always is whenever there’s a party thrown here. Music pumps through the night, accompanying the water crashing along the shore and continuous chatter from everyone gathered. The weather is perfect, and the knitted cropped top Isla wears over her bikini top keeps her comfortable as she sips her second beer of the night. JJ has been nice enough to let her sip from his flask, the vodka a sharp lingering taste in the back of her throat as she tosses the ping pong ball, high-fiving Cleo when it lands in a cup.

“You’re gettin’ smoked,” Cleo laughs at Pope and Kie on the other end of the table. “I thought you were gonna make it challenging for us!”

“Alright, alright, stop the celebration. You haven’t won yet,” Pope calls back before turning to his partner. “Come on, Kie, you got this.”

Kie holds up her free hand to silence Pope, her dark eyes fixated on the table between them. “Don’t pressure me.”

Pope holds up his hands in defense, but his dark, keen eyes watch the scene before him. Isla just knows his razor sharp brain is calculating the physics of it all as Kie prepares to do her throw. Unfortunately for her, the ball bounces off the rim of one of the cups, glaring at Isla and Cleo without any real heat when they cheer at her expense. Pope simply laces his fingers behind his head as he shakes it, pursing his lips in disappointment as Kie flips him off. 

As Cleo does her turn, Isla sways her hips side to side to the bear of the music, arms crossed as she sips her beer. Her gaze wanders around the party, taking in the plenty of familiar faces that surround her, as well as ones she doesn’t know but figures are the kids from families who are staying in Outer Banks for the summer. Other than them, Pogues and Kooks alike are spread out around the Boneyard; some mingling, others keeping to their friend groups. It’s always been like that, really.

There are a few bonfires lit up, the smell of smoke mixing with the salty air in a combination that tickles Isla’s nose with familiarity. She spots JJ sitting on one of the logs by one of the fires, animated in whatever story he’s telling to the group of people entranced by him. But she also notes how he keeps glancing in this general direction, and Isla knows exactly who he’s looking at. She smiles into her next sip of beer, subtly shaking her head to herself and wishing that JJ and her sister would just get out of this limbo they’re stuck in and finally get together. 

The beer pong game ends with Isla and Cleo winning, the two high fiving  as they shift over to let the next group play. Peering into her cup and the remaining drink inside, Isla tells her friends. “I’m almost out. Gonna head to the bathroom and get another.”

They nod their acknowledgements before Isla turns and wanders off. She’s not that drunk, but she smiles at anyone who calls out to her as she heads to the edge of the party where a row of three porta-potties are lined up. Isla hates using them—drunk people are so disgustingly messy—but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

She uses the toilet quickly and carefully, but it’s not until she’s exiting the bathroom that Isla ends up bumping into someone. A gasp rips through her when the remaining contents of her drink spill on her white crocheted top. Isla freezes, staring down at the beer stained top in shock; not a lot of her drink remained, but enough had been in the cup to dirty the middle of her top, cringing at the stickiness of the beer clinging to her skin as well.

“Oh, fuck.” Her gaze snaps up and the shock only intensifies into disbelief at the sight of Rafe standing before her, staring at her with guilt surprisingly swimming in his blue eyes.

A sharp breath escapes Isla, her shoulders tense as she gapes at him. “Seriously?” she demands, pinching the front of the damp top and pulling it away from her wet skin.

His guilt melts into annoyance, eyebrows pulling together as he tells her, “Excuse me, but you’re the one who bumped into me—again.”

Isla knows he’s right, but she can’t bring herself to care at this moment. Why him, of all people, to bump into twice in as many days? “Thank you for the recount,” Isla huffs, flapping her top in a feeble attempt to dry it. “And thank you for completely soaking my top.”

Rafe purses his lips as Isla turns back into the bathroom and rips off some toilet paper, soaking it in the sink before stepping back out and trying to clean the beer off of her skin, at least. The top needs to be washed and hopefully that’ll get the stain out, but Isla can’t stand the sticky sensation of her skin.

She can feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze on her as she slides her hand under her top and wipes at her chest and stomach, her black bikini top peeking through the holes of her knitted top. Heat pools in her cheeks and she tells herself it’s from annoyance rather than anything else, letting out a quiet huff as she balls up the tissue paper because although she’s not sticky anymore, she isn’t entirely keen on walking around with a stained top, even if others will be too drunk to notice. Or care.

When she looks back at Rafe, Isla blinks in bewilderment as she watches him unbuttoning the plaid button down he’s got on, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Uh,” she drags the word out, and the heat in her skin only intensifies when her gaze locks in on his fingers deftly undoing the buttons, the gold ring on his index finger glinting against the light of the bathroom behind her. “What are you doing?”

Isla’s lips part when Rafe completely unbuttons the shirt, leaving him in a white tank underneath that proudly shows off muscular biceps as he shrugs off the button down and holds it out to her. “Wear this.”

She blinks. “What?”

Rafe cocks an eyebrow while Isla stares at him, no longer even registering the party behind him and instead looking back and forth between him and the shirt he’s holding out to her. Did she hit her head? What is happening? “You wanna walk around with a stained shit? Be my guest. Figured I’d give you a cleaner and drier option.”

This is so weird, and her extreme confusion pushes her to ask, “What are you even doing here?”

Rafe rarely shows up to the Boneyard parties. Unlike the other Kooks who make an appearance, Isla and her friends always figured Rafe thought he was too good to be seen here. The Kook prince liked to throw ragers at his own place, so why bother coming out all the way here? 

If Rafe is surprised or bothered by her question, he doesn’t show it. “Top dragged me against my will. Now are you gonna take the shirt or not?” he asks, giving the clothing a little shake as he holds it out.

Isla doesn’t want to necessarily walk around in her bikini top or her stained sweater, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she runs a debate in her head. Her friends will question her on whose shirt she’s got on, and she can lie and say some random guy instead of giving Rafe’s name, but what are the odds that Sarah recognizes her brother’s shirt? This guy seems to come to her rescue when she doesn’t have many other options; it’s not like she can borrow anything from one of her friends. Pope’s got a shirt, JJ’s in a muscle tee, and John B’s got his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to show off his chest. 

God, maybe she should just go home.

Instead, though, Isla finds herself untying the front of her knitted cropped sweater before shrugging it off, keenly aware of Rafe’s gaze on her as she stands in front of him in her bikini top and daisy dukes. Yet, his stare doesn’t feel unwanted or uncomfortable, and Isla can’t look away from him, either. Suddenly, they’re locked in a kind of staring contest, to see who will look away first, as Isla shrugs off her sweater without breaking eye contact.

The air is electric, the smell of smoke adding a kind of sensuality to how close Rafe stands, offering his shirt. The material is surprisingly soft when Isla grasps it, putting her arms through the sleeves, and the air hitches in her throat when she sees that the shirt is practically a dress on her, stopping way past her shorts around her mid-thigh. Isla doesn’t bother buttoning it up, suddenly engulfed in that familiar scent she smelled last night when Rafe had been standing so close to her, and when she’d been on the back of his bike. A scent she would catch faint whiffs of whenever she was at the Camerons’ home, hanging out with Sarah.

Now, it wraps around her too pleasantly as she rolls the sleeves of the shirt up to her elbows before tying her sweater around her waist, making sure Rafe’s button down isn’t tucked into it.  She smooths it down with a huffed, “Good?”

There’s a shift in Rafe’s eyes, a gleam that stirs something to life in the pit of Isla’s stomach as she watches his blue eyes trail down the length of her. The movement of his gaze is slow, purposeful, almost as if he’s committing the sight of her in his shirt to memory and despite the summery balm of the night, goosebumps pimple her exposed skin in response to the touch of his stare. She can feel her pulse pick up speed, a dangerous realization as Rafe parts his lips and rubs the corner of his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Yeah,” he drawls with a slow nod, blue eyes once again locking with her brown. The air is charged between them, as if only a few more seconds need to pass before it sparks something into a fire. 

Isla tries not to shift on her feet, doesn’t want to show the sudden nerves that tickle her that have never existed when she’s been around Rafe—until now. She gives a gentle shake of her head to get her hair out of her face, keeping her voice as even as she can when she says, “Guess your one good deed of the month became two.”

A huff of a laugh escapes his now smirking mouth, hinting at dimples. Isla can’t look away despite all of the reasons she should. Especially when he coolly replies, “Guess you’re the exception.”

Isla presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, warmth pooling into her cheeks as his words have an effect on her that takes her by surprise. But she remembers herself in time to force a sardonic smile to match her equally sarcastic response, “Lucky me.”

It pulls a chuckle from Rafe, glancing away as he rubs his jaw before he nods at her cup. “Let me get you another drink.”

His offer once again shocks her. Isla lifts her eyebrows and presses her hand to her chest in exaggerated melodrama. “Another good deed?” Rafe rolls his eyes, but that signature smirk remains. “I can get it myself, thanks.” She doesn’t want to risk her friends and sister seeing her even walking next to Rafe, knowing how they’d react. “And, uh, thanks for the shirt,” she adds almost begrudgingly. Though, she is grateful—even if he’s the reason the drink spilled on her.

And maybe Rafe can sense the conflict and confusion that brews inside of her—that has been since last night—because his smirk widens as he takes a step back, his eyes trailing down the entire length of her. His shirt suddenly feels heavy on her frame, like he’s just branded her, and her reaction should be to take it off and shove it back in his arms. 

But Rafe is already walking backwards, hands in the pockets of his pants as he says to her, “You wear it well,” before turning and walking off without waiting for a response

Not that he would get one, because all thoughts eddie out of Isla’s head, gaping at his back as he walks away with those damning parting words. In moments like these, she wishes she had her sister’s smart mouth; Kie is an expert in snappy comebacks and witty comments, meanwhile Isla is left a flustering mess only regretfully coming up with her responses long after the conversation is over.

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters to herself, forcing her feet to move as she approaches the party.

She stops by at the keg, getting a refill on her drink before walking back to where her friends are. Her steps are slow, though, nervously fiddling with the rolled up cuff of the shirt as she takes a deep breath and hopes that Sarah doesn’t recognize the shirt. Hell, it could belong to anyone, couldn’t it? 

Her friends are all gathered around one of the fires, just the group of them, and as Isla nonchalantly sits down on the log next to JJ, he does a double take and takes in the sight of her new piece of clothing. “Whose shirt is that?” He pinches the material of the shoulder between his fingers, and Isla swats it off as she feels the others’ gazes on her. “Looks very Kook-like.”

Isla suppresses a groan—and fights the urge to glance at Sarah. Instead, she decides to give them half of the truth. “Some guy accidentally bumped into me, spilled beer on my sweater. He felt bad so he gave me his shirt to wear.”

Honestly, she’s kind of proud of herself for sounding very blasé about it, like she’s got nothing to hide. As she takes a sip from her beer, Pope snorts, “What kind of dude wears a button down to a beach party?”

There’s a pregnant pause before every single one of them, including Isla with a sigh, answers, “A Kook.”

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 8

merman x female reader

After you finally agreed to live with Tao he told you to take a few days to heal up. You were worried that you'd get fired from your job being out so long but apparently on his little jog out to get you clothes he also stopped by the diner.

He informed Mikey that you won't be back in for a few days due to your injuries. He also mentioned that he may or may not have threatened him after he said some horrible things about you under breath. Apparently Jes was there to stop him from beating Mikey black and blue.

You spent the first day just lounging about in the nest room, reading your romance novels you've stashed away at Tao's. He had to go back to the beach to asses the damage and help with clean up. When he came home he looked drained but quickly perked up when he saw that you made dinner

The second day Jes came to visit and the two of you talked up a storm.

"Girl you are so lucky to be alive right now! You could have fucking died!" She shakes you before giving you a rib crushing hug.

"I know, I know. I just couldn't be there anymore, I needed to get away," You cry against her shoulder and sigh.

You give Jes the run down of that fateful night and leave nothing out. She listens, shaking her head here and there and holding back tears when you talk about how terrified you were.

"And I've been here since. I don't know if he's told you, but I'm moving in with him," you tell her as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

"I think that's for the best, but what about... well, you haven't been to keen on getting any closer to him because of the... you know, mates subject," She sighs and scrubs her face.

"I'm trying not to think about it. I'll still keep him at a healthy distance, even though he seems to want the opposite. Not sure if he's taking this fake dating seriously or if he's just being over protective of me because he sees me as his shoal mate," you shrug.

Jes' brows hike up her forehead and she grins, "Shoal mate?"

"Like werewolves have pack members Jes, nothing special," you glare.

"Sure sure, and I'm guessing all those clothes and lacy things aren't special either?" Her grin widens.

"Jes, no. He's just being nice, he even said it was because I didn't have anything to wear and all," you roll your eyes and groan. "Besides he would probably buy even more expensive clothes for his mate, treat her even better and all. I'm just practice, that's all I'm ever good for."

Without warning a hand clamps down on your face and shakes you, "You listen and you listen good, I am sick and tired of hearing your woe was me bullshit! You are kind, smart, dependable, funny as fuck, and loving as hell and if no one can see that in you, they don't fucking deserve you. Tao included ok?"

You nod your head and whimper, "But when he finds her won't h-"

"And what if you are her? What then?" She asks you.

"How can it be me though? There's been no sign, no marks, no moment where we look deep into each others eyes and just 'know'. There's nothing Jes, just two friends who are fake dating," you start blubbering, tears rolling down your cheeks again.

You've bottled up these emotions for days now, unable to vent them since you're in the same living space with the merman who's causing them. You needed this, needed to talk to Jes and just let it all out.

"A part of me wishes he wasn't so goddamn nice to me ya know. Like it'd be so much easier to fall out of love with him. And now look at me, I'm about to move in with him because it's safer here than with my own fucking family. I can't win Jes, I can't," you sob into your hands and she pulls you in for a hug.

"You'll be alright sugar, maybe not now but eventually. I'm not going to sugar coat shit and say things will be fine because I'm no fortune teller girly. This is going to be a fucking journey, but it's all about how you navigate until you reach the end. Nobody needs to get hurt ok?" Jes pulls back and wipes a tear from your cheek. "But if he does hurt you, I will be more than happy to put my foot up where the sun don't shine."

You manage a teary chuckle and nod, "Thanks for being real Jes. I guess I needed to hear that and not some fake positivity bull shit."

"I don't do that wishy washy fake support girly, I tell it like it is," she grins and winks.

After you calm down Jes segues the conversation from you and Tao to her and her wild fae fiancé. You start cackling when she tells you about the gifts they've already received from friends and family. Apparently it's common practice to gift some fun things for the bedroom before the wedding so they can enjoy them afterward. Jes admits that she's lost count of how many of these gifts she has received.

"But here's the real kicker, because he's a wild fae our wedding has to be officiated by a wild fae who has worked law between both worlds for it to be legal in both," Jes sneers and tosses her hand back and forth.

"Won't that kind of be near impossible? Aren't wild fae against going into law? I thought they'd be more free spirited?" You try to imagine someone with wild hair and wild magic working in a court of law and quickly shake your head.

"That's what I thought, but there's one. Just one, fresh out of college too. He has a degree in law in both worlds. His name is Varen, very straight laced and way too normal for anyone to look at him and think wild fae. But Artek told me that this kid's one hundred percent a wild fae, could tell by the ebb and flow of his magic," She explains and goes into greater detail about this weird wild fae.

That conversation lead to another and another, talking and bitching turned to joking over lunch and eventually, like all good things, ended after cake. Jes left and you felt lighter though the dread stayed pooled in the pits of your stomach. It was manageable now, but still there.

You distract yourself by starting on dinner. You take it easy as to not overdo it and reopen any wounds again. You've splashed some healing potion on yourself this morning but should probably cleanse yourself with another dose soon.

Little by little you get everything together and toss it into the oven. Easy, simple bake for a dinner. While it does its own thing you whisk away to the bathroom and quickly strip as you run the bathwater. You've just finished pouring the potion into the bath when the door flies open haphazardly and Tao freezes.

You can't help but to laugh especially when he attempts to close the door that keeps slipping from his grasp.

"Dude you've seen me naked probably a dozen times now, nothing you haven't seen," you plop into the bath, still laughing.

You hear the door shut and Tao sighing and to your surprise you see him sitting right at the closed door. He looks a bit roughed up and tired as hell.

"Tough day at work," you ask as you settle in for a soak.

Tao groans, "Tough would be an understatement. Two vacant houses tumbled and shattered onto the beach during the storm. We started out with plenty of volunteers but once they realized how much work goes into the clean up, well we lost a good sixty percent."

"Sixty percent?!" you turn and nearly slip against the tub.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, a certain someone came to the beach looking for you," he adds with disgust that he doesn't even attempt to hide.

"You've gotta be shitting me... She came to the fucking beach after all that had happened?" you ask.

"She was cordial at first since there was a lot of people but when I wasn't giving her the answers she wanted she started saying horrific things about you in relation to, well, to us," he says.

You know how unhinged your grandmother can be with insults and name calling but to slander you or Tao, especially Tao, in public, that was crossing a whole new fucking line.

"What did she say?" you grit your teeth and exhale, trying to remain calm.

Tao doesn't say anything, but you hear him clear his throat and shift. You turn in the tub, keeping low enough that only your shoulders and up are visible, "Tao, what did she say?"

He looks at you and looks down, "She said a great deal of things that I am very certain would cause you to become quite enraged."

"I need something a little more specific buddy. How bad was it?" you keep pushing, knowing that Tao isn't fully comfortable with this but you need to know.

"I'm not sure if I-"

"If I promise to remain calm will you fucking tell me at least one goddamn thing she said?" you nearly yell, starting to get frustrated.

Tao's eyes widen but he nods his head, "She said...well she compared you to your mother saying that you're some slut for dating me and that I'm some freak with a human woman fetish that's lowering whatever qualities about you that would be desirable to human males."

You promised to remain calm, and you're no liar. Instead you start getting out of the tub. You quickly wrap a towel around yourself before Tao can say anything but to your surprise he seems rather speechless. His eyes are back onto the floor and there's this limpness to him. You squat down next to him and he doesn't flinch.

"There's more to this isn't there?" you ask.

"I couldn't say anything... I couldn't defend you or she'd know where you were. I wanted to tear her apart so bad, not physically of course, but I wanted her to know how wrong she was," Tao admits.

You lean up against him and he stiffens a bit before relaxing. He smells of the beach and whatever trash was on beach and it makes you crinkle your nose.

"I'm going to go get dressed and finish up dinner while you take a much needed shower. Let's try to get me moved in asap. I don't think I can tolerate my grandmother any longer," you shimmy up against the door to stand up as Tao shoves up and wobbles.

He seems a little off but mostly tired.

"Try to get some rest tonight ok? We have plenty of time to talk till we both pass out," you smile at him before leaving to go get dressed.

You throw on some comfy pajama bottoms that Jes bought for you and a large shirt that Tao had got you with all the other clothes. You slip into some comfy slides and head to the kitchen to check on dinner. It's a simple chicken bake that your older brother used to make and it made you feel like a normal kid when you ate it.

You wanted to share with Tao a taste of your world since the both of you always cooked his style. It's not that he can't eat or doesn't like to eat normal human food, it's just that you've been busy practicing his style for a while now.

It's just chicken breasts baked over carrots and potatoes that you've oiled and seasoned properly, but this was the one thing that kept you going on the hard days. You made it for your younger siblings when your brother got older and left, but it was never quite as good as his.

You start prepping some broccoli to go with it, something you added so everyone could get their vegies. You can't help but to smile when you think of your little sister grimacing when she took her first bite of broccoli. You had to convince her that they were tiny trees and she'd become a giant if she ate them. Before you left home, she admitted that it didn't work but she knew you were trying so she kept eating them even if she still didn't like them. Hearing that almost made you break down in tears.

You oil up the pan and turn to grab the broccoli when you run right into Tao.

"You have got to start warning me when you enter a room dude, this is going to keep happening if you don't," you laugh.

Tao chuckles and holds your arm, "I'll try to remember that for next time. How are your wounds?"

"Itchy," you shrug, "But manageable. How about you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm...," He pauses and sighs. "Tired, tired and drained. All I want to do is bury myself in a pile of blankets and pillows and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist for a while."

You want to laugh because you've been there, and you feel like this isn't the first time Tao has felt like this but it's the first time he's expressed it.

"Well how about we do just that after dinner ok? I could do with wrapping myself up in that fluffy green blanket like a lettuce wrap," you giggle.

Tao gives you a soft smile and nods, "Sounds like a plan."

His hand roves up from your forearm and to your shoulder, your heart pounding a mile a minute until his nose crinkles and he nearly shoves you away as he picks up the smoking oiled pan off the stove top.

You try to apologize but Tao stops you saying it's his fault he distracted you. He offers to help with the last bit of dinner but you stubbornly decline and banish him to the barstools.

The chicken bake finishes just as you toss the broccoli into the newly oiled pan and you hush up Tao when he offers to help again.

"Can't make you a thank you dinner if you keep trying to help now can I?" you poke at him.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asks, almost shocked.

"I thought I'd make you something from my world as a thank you... Like we're always cooking stuff from the little book you made me or stuff based on that so I thought I'd try something different...," you feel your heart sinking a bit at how silly you sound.

You should have asked instead of jumping into this, should have double checked and now you're probably just cooking for yourself because he probably won't want t-

"I can't wait to try it then," he says.

You look up, realizing that you had been looking down at the broccoli and were probably about to salt it with your tears.

"It's nothing fancy, just a chicken bake my older brother used to make for me when I was a kid," you smile.

He smiles back and yawns looking more tired than usual, "Like I said, I can't wait to try it."

You feel your cheeks heat and your heart flutter but it doesn't last long as you mentally dunk yourself into cold water.

Just a friend, just a friend...

Shaking yourself out of your girly lovey dove self you focus on finishing dinner. As simple as it is you want to make it especially presentable. You give Tao two chicken breasts and a good helping of carrots, potatoes and broccoli. You wanted to serve dinner rolls with it but you had polished them off a couple nights ago.

Tao is unable to stay seated much longer and takes the plates to the one place you'd thought they'd be forbidden from entering, the nest room. Though not without trays which he asks you to bring. You grab them along with some bottles of water and the dessert Jes had brought earlier from the diner.

Tao has you set the trays and things down at the doorway so you can hold the plates. You watch with bated breath as his claw slowly slices through the air, dragging golden glowing ruins with it. The room shifts and the nest room transforms into something akin to a magical pillow fort. The plates you're holding float out of your hands and the trays fly up to support them.

You look down for the dessert and waters but they had already transported to Tao's hands. He smiles again and gestures for you to follow him into the pillow fort.

He plops down onto a beanbag that you had no idea was even in the room and the tray lands gracefully on his lap. You follow suit and snuggle up into a pile of pillows with your tray landing next to you.

"I gotta say Tao, had I known you as a kid I would have invited you over to build pillow forts and hang out because this is fucking nice," you joke.

Tao doesn't say anything because all of his focus and attention went straight into the dinner you had made. Though he's tired, his eyes turn solid black as he rips into the chicken like a beast. It's no feeding frenzy like he did at your grandmother's house, no he still seems conscience.

You take his silence and focus on the meal as a complement and tuck into your on plate. As you eat you realize that it's still not quite like your brother's.

Guess I'll have to hunt him down and shake that recipe out of him one of these days.

You're halfway down eating when you feel Tao snuggling up to you. You glance over at him, his eyes still all black.

"If you're still fully aware in there let me finish eating dude," you tell him.

Tao grunts which you suppose is a good sign as he slinks down and lays next to you. You stab at your food and eat as slowly as possible hoping that Tao will just pass out while waiting for you.

You're not against platonic cuddling or whatever sharky merfolk due to stay warm, but you need some distance. You need to be a little colder until you've sorted your feelings out.

He's been so good to you, kind and caring that it hurts more and more as the days pass and you haven't even officially moved in yet. You keep things as professional as you can but he keeps doing things like buying you snacks and little gifts like candles and bubble bath stuff.

It drives you absolutely crazy because you know this isn't going to last, that even though you'll still be shoal mates and all, you won't be anything more than just that.

You finish eating and check to see if Tao had passed out. Once you're certain he's asleep you clean up the pillow fort and take everything to the kitchen as quietly as possible. You shake your head and almost cry as you laugh about hanging out with Tao in a pillow fort.

If you weren't in love with him you'd probably have a blast. You'd probably try to wake his ass up and try to teach him some games the both of you could play.

But you're in love with him and he's tired. You're tired too.

You had allowed yourself to laze about while physically healing but mentally and emotionally you still feel like your wounds are wide open and bleeding all over the place.

Tip toeing back to the nest room, you quickly swipe the fluffy green blanket and a couple pillows to take back to the living room. You toss yourself onto the leather loveseat and curl into a ball before passing out.

~~~~~~

Tao:

My eyes feel crusted and practically glued together when I wake up. I'm cold even though I'm wrapped up in a heavy blanket. I reach out to get a feel of my surroundings when my memories of last night start flooding in. I snap up and and furiously wipe my eyes till I can open them.

The nest room is as I remembered, magicked into a cave of pillows and blankets but absent of a certain someone. I quickly untangle myself from the blankets and nearly trip as I make my way out of the room.

I search the nearby rooms to check for her before heading to the kitchen. My heart sinks when I peer into the living room and find her curled up on the couch. I quietly pad my way over to her and I fall to my knees when I see notice the tears stained on her face and the puffiness of her eyes.

Had she spent the entire night out here alone crying her eyes out?

I grab a fistful of my hair as I try to wrack my brain for anything I might have done to upset her. I start to worry if I offended her with the way that I ate last night, I did try my best to suppress my instincts. I know that going into a feeding frenzy can disgust humans but she's been fine with it before.

My heart starts racing and I can hardly breathe as I continue to spiral into a state of panic. I'm obviously not quiet about it because she stirs then shoots straight up. I hear her worrying over me, her warm hands cupping my cheek so gently. Without think I hold her hand in place as if I'm afraid this will be the last time she touches me.

Her thumb soothes short lines near my eye and I feel myself slowly calming down to the point that I almost doze off again. She keeps talking but it's muffled. She tries to pull her hand away then and I snap out of whatever trance I was in.

"Tao, you need to go in the tank dammit! You're dry as a bone!" she yells at me.

It takes a moment for my mind and body to sync up and that's when I realize the severe discomfort my skin is in. Not just my skin but my mouth feels sticky and my gills are on fire. I stumble as I stand, no longer operating on anxious energy. It's so difficult to move, to breathe in this state.

I haven't neglected myself like this in ages and now I'm doing it in front of her. For a moment I think she might scold me, rage at how stupid I was for not taking better care of myself until I feel her small hand at the mid of my back.

Slowly she helps me to the hatch, my breathing becoming more and more labored with each step. My gills feel stuck and itchy to the point of sheer madness. I try my best not to scratch at them in fear of them becoming raw.

She sits me down on one of the benches and helps me out of my shirt. For a moment I think that it's kind of her to help me out like this until I remember that I'm wearing pants too.

In a sudden bout of panic I shoot up and kick the hatch open. I hear her talking but not a single word is registering. I quickly start stripping my pants off and before she can see anything I try to dive into my tank but trip over my own feet. I nearly miss the edge when I hit the water and thank the goddesses I made it before I feel unconscious.

There's a weight on my shoulder, a stinging pain too. I suppose I did hit myself but not as bad. I peel open my eyes in horror when I see my shoal mate's limp body slowly floating away from me with blood trailing from her head.

~~~~~~

You could see Tao struggling and you tried to stop him before he hurt himself, instead you ended up bonking your fucking head on the edge of the hatch. It stings like a bitch from the saltwater so you must have sliced it on impact.

But you quickly shove that though from your mind because you're underwater and you're breathing somehow. Memories flood back and you recall holding onto to his shoulder for dear life and Tao pulling you in and how his mouth opened yours up so he could breathe for you. He said something and you nodded before passing out again. He most likely cast a spell to allow you to breathe under water then.

You slowly open your eyes but there's not much to behold. The tank is dark save for the light near the surface. You feel around yourself and notice something smooth nearby. You give it a good poke a guess by the texture and smooshiness of it that it's Tao's tail. Suddenly you're being pulled against him, his nose nuzzling against your ear and his claws rest gently against your bare skin.

"You scared me half to death," he groans, his voice hoarse.

"Ditto dude, you were having a full blown panic attack. What happened?" you ask as bubbles exit your mouth. You have a good idea based on how he's responded to anything you do in the past but it doesn't hurt to check.

Tao's claws twitch and he hums, "I was worried that I had offended you somehow. When I awoke, you were not in the nest."

"You didn't do anything wrong Tao, I just... I needed some space. That and uhh...," You pause, knowing it's now or never and decide to rip it off like a band aid. "You don't have to keep up the fake dating act when we're alone. I mean whenever you find your mate or something I think you'll do good."

You continue to praise him and how he'll make someone super happy one of these days while doing your damndest to mask the ache in your heart. You slip up though and your voice cracks but you laugh it off or at least try to.

The slip doesn't go unnoticed and Tao pulls you into his arms again, crushing you against his body. You're stiff yet somehow you're trembling as he cradles your head and gently kisses your cheek. He doesn't say anything really but you do hear him purr. It's a low thrumming sound and it's oddly soothing.

"We were supposed to relax and pretend as if the world did not exist in the nest room. I ruined that by allowing my instincts to take over again," He says remorsefully.

"No you didn't Tao, I just... I needed space and... you've been great, maybe too great. It just feels wrong somehow to keep up the fake dating act twenty four seven. It's been messing with my head so much so that, I don't know... I just think we should tone it down and just be friends when no one is looking," you bury your face against his chest and sigh.

Tao taps his claws against the back of your head as his purring somehow intensifies, "Then how has it been messing with your head? Did I do something to overstep any boundaries?"

It's a genuine question, you know it is but it irritates you because it's digging so close to the truth, "You haven't overstepped anything, if anyone did that would be me. You've been nothing but kind and respectful and all that and it's been making me think how great it would be if there was someone who could treat me like you do but they actually loved me."

That last part stings your soul because you don't want just anybody, you want Tao.

Without thinking you keep blubbering on, your emotions taking charge now, "And then I started thinking how nice it would be if I was your mate, not just shoal mate, but that'd never happen. So I just kept telling myself we're friends and that you'll eventually find your fated mate and I'll be tossed aside. So I've been trying my best to shut those feelings off, to put some distance between us but somehow someway we keep coming into contact with each other."

At this point your laughing, possibly crying but it's too hard to tell since you're still underwater. Tao holds you even tighter, pulling you up until your chin rests on his shoulder.

"I pray to the goddesses every night that I never meet my fated mate or that I will have the strength to reject her if we do meet," he admits.

"Why would you do that?" you ask with a broken voice.

"Because I want to choose my mate and fated mates among merfolk are rare anyways. I came to this world for a new life, I can't hold onto old traditions and wishful thinking," he answers, his claws once again tapping the back of your head.

"Did you decide this because you've already chose someone?" The question slips and Tao's fingers still against you.

His purring is so loud now and his heartbeat is thrumming against it. He doesn't say anything for a minute but then nods, "Yes, I suppose I have."

You go limp in his hold for a second before looking up at him. His golden eyes glow in the darkness and his hair moves in waves around his head like an inky crown. He looks more feral at this moment than he does when his instincts kick in. For a moment you're terrified of the question fighting its way out but when he touches your arm oh so gently is just flies out.

"Who is it? Who did you chose?"

[thebluemallet]

My Favorite Portia Featherington Moments

Throughout all three seasons of Bridgerton, Portia Featherington has been a complicated character. On the surface, she's completely unlikeable. She treats Penelope poorly. Her fashion sense is excessively gaudy. And she seems either unaware or willfully ignorant of the social faux pas she makes from day to day.

But she is also a survivor who was dealt a shit hand in life with her useless husband. And she did what she had to do to ensure the safety and well-being of her daughters in desperate times. So here are a few of my favorite Portia moments.

10- Showing Marina What Her Future Holds

When Portia finds out that Marina is pregnant, her first instinct is to protect her girls and her family's reputation. She wants to send Marina away and back to the country but she can't because of her useless husband's dealings. George hasn't answered Marina's letter telling him about her condition. Without knowing that George's fate has already been sealed, Marina's insistence that George will come for her seems naive--especially to Portia.

When Marina refuses to even entertain the idea of being married off quickly to an older man in need of an heir who won't ask too many questions, Portia, like the Ghost of Christmas Future, shows Marina what her life will be if she continues to hold out for George.

It's a much-needed wake-up call but it does not work on Marina. The forged letter may have seemed cruel at the time, but if I were in Portia's shoes, I would have assumed the worst of George, too.

9- Confronting Her Husband

When Lord Featherington puts a premature end to the courtship between Albion Finch and his middle daughter Philippa, Portia is outraged. A man has taken an interest in one of their daughters, seems besotted with her, and wants to marry her. What possible objections could there be?

When she tries to press him for answers in public, Lord Featherington uses his position as a man and a husband to silence her. But when Portia uncovers that he has gambled away all of their money--including their daughters' dowries--her husband is revealed for the sniveling coward that he is. Outside of the eyes of society, he is a weak man who can't curtail his vices even for the well-being and future of his family.

They may not like each other, but even Portia wasn't expecting this level of betrayal from her husband.

Cry those crocodile tears, Archibald! I don't feel sorry for you whatsoever. I'm Team Portia on this one.

8- "You find things to love, my dear."

Even a blind man could tell that Portia and Archibald were not a love match. She married him for security and he failed to even provide that. But she managed to find silver linings in the many clouds of her marriage.

Her talk with Marina in the final episode of season 1 gives the audience more insight into the kind of woman Portia is and how strong she had to be to endure her marriage with her late husband for so long. It's the kindest and most motherly we've seen her be all season. And her talk gives Marina the final push she needs to do what needs to be done to protect her babies.

Portia, as we'll see, is better off without her deadbeat husband. She has more strength than she gave herself credit for in this scene. And she has the three best things her husband gave her by her side.

7- "I am a MOTHER."

After the death of Archibald, the Featherington women are in financial stasis until the new Lord Featherington finally shows up. When Cousin Jack finally arrives some things are starting to look up. But he is making some questionable decisions right off the bat.

Portia is, once again, at the mercy of a Featherington man who makes piss-poor financial decisions when Cousin Jack comes into the picture.

She navigates the situation as best as she can, even getting into his fraudulent gemstone scheme when she's backed into a corner with no way out. Desperate times, desperate measures.

After Colin uncovers the scheme and Cousin Jack proposes not only running away from the country, but even leaving Prudence and Penelope behind and sending for them later, Portia has had enough. If you think this woman would ever seriously consider abandoning her daughters to save her own skin, then you don't know her at all.

Portia doesn't always make the right decisions. Portia doesn't always say the right things. Portia is far from a perfect mother. But she'll ALWAYS choose her daughters over mediocre men who only care for themselves, and for that, I'll love her forever for showing Cousin Jack the door.

6- Sex-Ed With Philippa and Prudence

The moment Philippa said that she and Albion were "very passionate" I KNEW that we were in for some comedic gold.

And I was RIGHT.

At first, Portia thinks her biggest problem with the Featherington Heir Race is Prudence. But at least she can relate to Prudence's problem of not enjoying the marital act. Poor Portia's not even aware that it can be enjoyable for both parties.

But to her horror, BOTH of her married daughters are the problem. Prudence isn't having sex because she doesn't like it and Philippa isn't having sex because she has no idea what it is.

You can see the wheels turning in both Prudence's and Portia's heads when Philippa asks that infamous question.

If Lady Featherington went home that night and screamed into her pillows, I wouldn't blame her.

5- Chaperoning Polin

Portia's finally realized that she's been a little lax with chaperoning Penelope over the years. No matter, she'll make up for it now and chaperone her daughter when her fiancee comes for a visit!

Colin and Penelope are just not used to having a chaperone and they have no idea how to conduct themselves with one in the room. Colin looks downright annoyed every time he sees Portia out of the corner of his eye. Penelope's staring at his lips the whole time and probably wants Colin to compromise her again right there on the window seat.

But the real comedy of this scene is knowing that Penelope is already pregnant. So the chaperoning was too little, too late.

4- Finally Bonding With Violet

For most of the series, Portia and Violet have gotten along like oil and water. They're not great friends like Penelope, Colin, and Eloise. They don't hang out at social events. Portia is envious of the Bridgertons and their social clout. Violet barely tolerates Portia on a good day. And as much as Violet loves Penelope, you can tell in 3x05 and 3x06 that she's not looking forward to having Portia as an in-law.

But when Colin and Penelope are on the outs just before their wedding, the two mothers have finally found some common ground.

3- Handling Lady Whistledown

I was not expecting Cressida to actually tell Portia that Penelope was Lady Whistledown. I thought she'd make a vague comment that Penelope would have to play off as nothing and then she would work with Colin and Eloise to overcome the Cressida threat.

But no, Cressida really tells Portia.

The threat of Cressida's blackmail hanging over her daughter's head and what this could mean for the Polin marriage is enough for Portia's protective mother instincts to kick in and she teams up with Colin and Eloise to find a solution and protect Penelope.

And she gets extra brownie points from me because one of her first reactions to learning about Whistledown is to point out that Penelope was the one to write horrible things about herself. ("The things you wrote! About your family! About yourself!")

Yes, Portia's angry about Penelope's secret and what she's done as Whistledown, but she puts that anger on the back burner for a short time while she tries to navigate her family through their latest crisis. To paraphrase what she said to Cousin Jack at the end of last season: she and Penelope are on the same team.

2- Portia and Penelope Finally Talk

Portia might have put her anger to the side when she found out about Whistledown, but it returns when Penelope finds out that Portia kept the money Cousin Jack had embezzled from the ton.

Portia and Penelope finally have it out and mother and daughter realize that they are more alike than they had previously realized or were even willing to admit.

1- Portia as a Grandmother

Portia started out the season anxious that none of her daughters would have a son and secure their family's future. By the end of the season, she's a grandmother to two granddaughters and one grandson--the new Lord Featherington. Her family's future is finally secure at last.

Now that she has her grandchildren, Portia will finally be able to relax a little. It must have been hard being in survival mode for so long. Now she can enjoy her life and watch all three of her daughters have marriages filled with love and happiness.

[itsabouttimex2]

Monkie Kid Villain Fates

A more in-depth look (especially for Macaque) down below!

(I know I’ve been posting a lot of content that’s outside my usual, and I hope no one minds too much! I’m cleansing my palate to prep for Season Five, which I am very excited to write for. ((Especially for Li Jing and Nuwa!!!)) So here’s a slew of my thoughts on the villains, and which one is my least favorite!)

(Spoilers: his name is written in purple above.)

Disclaimer 1: I am not counting instances of “throwing your lot in with the heroes when the world is at stake” as redeeming moments. If you only do something because it personally benefits you at the moment, it’s not exactly selfless.

Disclaimer 2: Redemption means three things-

1. The character acknowledges their wrongdoings.

2. The character works to become a better person.

3. The character makes amends/reparations for the harm they’ve done, without the threat of death hanging overhead. Good must be done of one’s own will and volition.

Disclaimer 3: A character not being redeemed doesn’t make them a bad character. In fact, some characters work better without redemption. (Like the Lady Bone Demon.) I just wanted to make a villain tier list and talk on some of the people it contained.

Red Son: Decently humanizing interactions with Mei, but ultimately uncaring of all the damage and harm that he’s caused, especially in regards to potential deaths during his attacks on the city. Unfortunately, the first example of “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven”. (Fix: Have him interact with people harmed by his villainy, and resolve to help them- even if only by repairing their destroyed vehicles. Something small enough to be reasonably in line with his pride and arrogance, but enough to show that he’s become a better person.)

——————

Macaque: The worst villain here. Utterly unrepentant and shameless, outwardly cruel and violent… but still got a “you’re not a bad guy” speech before actually showing that he wasn’t a bad guy. Despite being able to skip fights with his shadow portals, he intentionally stuck around to raze the Dragon Palace of the East Sea to the ground. (AO GUANG AND HIS PEOPLE’S STATUS ARE STILL UNKNOWN) This still hasn’t been addressed in canon, not even by Mei, who was related to those who lived there. Instead, she has a team-up with him, never addressing the still unknown fate of her uncle. Never apologizes, never makes amends, never tries to repair the damage he’s done… but allowed to stick around all the same. Where characters like Azure or LBD do what they do because they truly believe in their causes, Macaque is just having fun hurting people. Again, given his ability to shadow-portal, he doesn’t even have the “I’m trying to save my own life” excuse. He could’ve just skipped the torment and violence, but explicitly chose not to, and is always happy to inflict harm- even bragging about what he did to the Dragon Palace.

Also, I don’t give a single shit that Peng “bullied” him. It doesn’t make Macaque more sympathetic, it makes him less. He knows what it’s like to be insulted and berated for your nature, then (unhesitatingly and gleefully) does the same to MK, who may well be a child?

Yeah, no. Then, his “awesome” team-up with Mei only serves to rip agency and nuance from her character, turning this caring and energetic warrior into an amnesiac that doesn’t care about her family for the sake of “Boo-hoo, Peng hit me once to protect someone they care about!” So, Mei holds grudges, right? That would make her a more interesting character! But no! No, no, no! That’s just for Peng! Her grudge isn’t against the man who essentially attempted genocide on her people and razed an ancestral palace full of innocent people to the ground, no!

OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!!

Because then Macaque’s actions would have something called “consequences”, and the writers just won’t allow it! Because he’s just a murderous, violent, manipulative, cruel, spiteful, villain! How dare we expect any actual comeuppance for his crimes? No, we can’t have that!

Oh, and how does he help MK in the fourth season? How about he outright tells (great storytelling, btw) MK about how delusional Azure Lion is- a character with which he has no tie with beyond a tenuous past oath and no actual interactions. This moment could have easily been given to, you know, Wukong! Or Yellowtusk, if they were going the full redemption arc route for him, but no!

We have to pretend that Macaque’s input on a character he has no interactions with is important! Oh, and they let him play mentor to MK, who he has: manipulated, betrayed, violently assaulted, stole the powers of, berated, and attempted to kill.

Does MK care about any of this?

OF COURSE NOT!

But MK is absolutely furious and heartbroken at Azure for doing maybe half of those things, and with an honestly noble reason to boot.

Ugh.

I think it’s only made worse by the fact that people get so mad when there’s any criticism of Macaque “redemption arc”. Throwing actual fits and constantly arguing when someone dares to say “everyone allowing Macaque (and many other villains) to get away with the worst of his actions and not holding him accountable for being a genuinely dangerous, unrepentant and violent criminal is bad and makes the “heroic” characters around him look worse.”

And you can’t use the “well, he didn’t get a redemption arc!” The writers didn’t try to redeem him!” defense.

Because, yes. Yes they did.

We are supposed to think this guy is better now. The series wants you to think of him as redeemed.

MK leaves him handmade food and a drawing. His “you’re not a bad guy” speech is supposed to be taken as truth. Wukong is making amends with him (sharing smiles and offering food) and no one has any personal problems on the guy sticking around (which makes them all seem blander, given that at least one of his victims should be upset), which is portrayed in a positive light.

This is portrayed as good.

THE WRITERS CONSIDER MACAQUE AS DESERVING AND WORTHY OF THIS. THEY THINK HE HAS EARNED IT.

So yes- he is supposed to be “redeemed”.

But he isn’t. He really, really, isn’t.

(Fix: God, where do we start? Some remorse? An apology? Have every character not forgive him immediately? Have Mei not forget about the razing of an ancestral palace? Have Pigsy threaten to kill him if he tries to hurt MK again? Have Tang refuse to interact with him? Anything would have been nice.)

——————

Jin and Yin: No redemption arc at all. Essentially forgotten about by the show. They show up with the Scorpion Queen, but don’t have a satisfying send-off. It’s just a little funny scene. (Potential fix: more interactions with them as stagehands, working for the community. Why make them neutral only to shift immediately back to evil? It could’ve been nice to see them integrate into society instead of being turned evil again and written out of the story with little fanfare.)

——————

Demon Bull King: Same as Red Son, but without the humanizing interactions with a heroic character. Bonus points for putting his life in danger to save Wukong and MK, despite gaining nothing for doing so. Unfortunately, aside from that, another “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven” character. (Potential fix: Would’ve been nice to have more positive interactions between him and Wukong. Maybe talk about how hard it is to open up and be soft when they dedicated so much of their lives to being strong? Chat about his struggles adjusting to the modern era? Have him show clear remorse for mistreating his extremely loyal son?)

——————

Princess Iron Fan: Not much to say. Same as her husband, same solution. Really wish she had gotten some more screen time outside of her family. (Fix: Maybe flesh out her bond with Jin and Yin? I know it was supposed to be a funny “noodle incident”, but learning about their past could’ve been nice- maybe we could’ve gotten a scene of her with little Red Son to humanize her a bit?)

——————

As it says on the tin. I’ll do this all in one quick chunk.

Nothing much to say here- but it would’ve been nice to have one of the spiders survive and redeem themselves, especially since that it was teased for Huntsman.

I wish Goliath (not even his real name btw) hadn’t been such a nothing character. Like, we really don’t learn a single thing about him.

I pity the Ink Curse. Created to be a tool of torture, never allowed to love or be loved. Poor thing.

——————

Mayor: One of Season Four’s biggest flaws is that it could really feel disconnected from the previous three, which all felt very tightly interwoven. Example one: Mei “no longer *wielding* the Samadhi Fire”, when it had previously been established that she fused with it. Example two: The mayor’s fate is never addressed, despite being such a prominent enemy. (Fix: Just… tell us what happened to him. Is he in jail? Did he escape justice? Did someone just… murder him? I don’t care if “it’s being saved for Season Five”. It’s weird to just forget about someone so dangerous in universe.)

——————

Kui Mulang: Presumably either dead or returned to the Celestial Realm for punishment. Unlikely that we’ll receive further information on him.

——————

Peng: Probable that we’ll receive an update on their status in Season Five. Very interesting character with a few humanizing moments (being close to Yellowtusk and Azure, being upset when Monkey King was trapped in the scroll) that keep them from being irredeemable. Actually a better person than Macaque, given that they never remorselessly razed a palace of innocent people to the ground. Or tried to murder an innocent kid who wasn’t involved with their fight at all. Or held a young lady’s life hostage and threatened to murder her. But they’re sort of mean, so I guess people consider them irredeemable? Super weird.

Like, Peng is an asshole, sure. They clearly aren’t in this fight out of the goodness of their heart. But the awful way they get treated in the fandom is insane, especially with the babying treatment that other villainous characters (like Macaque, the Mayor, and Red Son) get.

——————

Azure Lion: Macaque, but better written! Letting MK be angry at a person who: manipulated, lied to, and betrayed him? Not having his misdeeds be forgotten and glossed over? People actually being upset at what he’s done further than a few minutes after he’s done it? Incredible character! This is what I’ve wanted from Monkie Kid for so long! Ultimately, Azure accepts his failures and sacrifices himself- a punishment for hurting innocent people and wreaking havoc? A villain acknowledging their misdeeds and making up for them? God, I love Azure so much!

Probably my favorite character!

——————

Yellowtusk: I love this grandpa so much, for mostly the same reasons as Azure. His crimes aren’t immediately forgotten! Everyone doesn’t immediately forgive him! And he has to head back to the Celestial Realm for actual consequences?! Damn, this is what I’ve wanted from LMK villains for so long! Real redemption arcs, my beloved.

Also, this proves that the writers do know that people who commit crimes should be held accountable and punished for it? Can you give some of that to the others, please?

——————

Scorpion Queen: Another character I don’t have much to say about. She acknowledges her mistakes, ceases her villainy, and seems to have made genuine friends in Jin and Yin. Given the very little harm she caused, redemption was never going to be outside of her reach- but I’m happy for her anyhow.

——————

Finishing Points

1: I do not “hate” any of these characters. Though I definitely dislike how some are written, each one is lovable and enjoyable in their own way. I enjoy writing for all of them, and will continue to do so. I just wanted to take a break from fanfiction and talk about my perspective on some villains.

2: What do I mean by “punishment”?

Essentially, a consequence delivered to the character on account of their villainy. Someone tripping and eating dirt isn’t a “punishment”, unless they’re being shoved down by an old victim. Losing a fight isn’t “punishment”, it’s a matter of self-defense. Additionally, the punishment has to be actively performed as a consequence of misdoings- tripping and breaking an arm after doing evil things isn’t a punishment, but having a victim of the villain actively choose to break their arm is.

3: This is not an attack on you or your “fave”. This is not me saying that the show is bad. This is not me saying that I could do better. This is not me saying that you shouldn’t like these characters. This is not me trying to change your mind. This is not me saying you should feel the way I do. These are just my personal thoughts on the villains listed, and some of the “flaws” that I personally have with their portrayals and depictions.

[just-null]

your yan!noritoshi is so wisnwonwpwjw RAAAHHHH going absolutely feral ... i want him . ive had so many thoughts abt him as like a yandere n then i saw your art n absolutely lost it /pos

IM ALL EARS, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD FUCK OKAY, HOLD ON, I ALSO HAVE SOME RAMBLES AND THOUGHTS ABOUT YANDERE NORITOSHI BUT IM GOING TO PUT THEM UNDER THE CUT.

I AM IN NO WAY RESPONSIBLE FOR UNLEASHING MY TJOUGHTS OFFICER. IT WAS MY GLORIOUS CULT MEMBER RIGHT HERE.

MERRY OCTOBER YALL

[disclaimer: im not a writer, but I want to get better. think of this as my practice. it ended up being so fucking long, but i swear it's just rambles, not a fic]

[warning for blood under the cut? keep that in mind for future posts]

OKAY LETS GO.

Bro ok so. if I'm not too delusional (yet) and don’t see him as a yandere, then this guy (Noritoshi) is still a strict fuck. he'd put you on the same level of importance as his clan if not a bit higher. but only by a bit. Your relationship would gradually bloom into something meaningful to him that he’d cherish you wholeheartedly. Only then would you grow in importance to Noritoshi significantly. He'd keep his resolve and all those healthy green flags. Because honestly? Noritoshi is just a green flag, he's so sweet..

But let's twist that into a yandere setting. I don't even need to twist too much, Noritoshi as a yandere is way too fitting.

Noritoshi was abandoned by his mother as a child, thereby fueling his lifelong goals to do as she said and bring her back. He didn't even think on his own accord, nor did he try to find a different way, or even follow her! He accepted his fate and made it his mission to accomplish the goal he was given. Despite the intense pressure of his worth being determined by an ability he was born with and the high expectations from the Kamo clan, he perseveres. That is until [spoilers] Noritoshi is exiled by his clan because of some Kenajku shit. All his hard work and future goals were ripped away from him without a second thought in an instant. Noritoshi was always the second thought time and time again, and now left as a man with nothing but the failure of his desired future.

That wasn't even the yandere part, that was all canon, what the fuck.

Yandere Noritoshi is the type to cling to scraps... He reminds me of an obsessive and protective yandere. obsessive about you because you become his everything.. his goal, his will to keep going, the light at the end of the tunnel. he wants all of you, from the best parts of you to your worst. He's also protective, because he cant handle losing yet another person so important to him. He'd rather tear himself apart than lose you.

He also seems mostly self-aware but can overthink to the point of delusion. For example, you pat him on the back and tell him he did a great job on something. He knows it's nothing to dwell on, but why does he feel like there's more to your words? Should he read in between the lines? but there's only one line! From then on, his mind would reel until he landed on a favorable conclusion. You meant that he was the only one who did great. The others paled in comparison in your eyes therefore you must favor Noritoshi in some way.. right?

Since Noritoshi was pretty deprived of any emotional support, you won't even have to try too hard to get his heart thumping. If you were to give him even just a bit more attention and care than the average person, like making sure he's eating alright or remarking that he's paler than usual after restocking his blood bags, he's hooked. He's self-aware enough to realize his blooming fondness for you is one-sided, so he simply admires you. that is, at the start. Note that Noritoshi is still new to these feelings so he's.. awkward. It's really cute.

Though these moments were cute to you, they slowly became horribly blissful to Noritoshi. Poor you, completely unaware of how you're slowly corrupting him in, what he thinks, is the best way possible just by giving him your attention. He thinks you're the last and only person still believing in him, so much so that everything and everyone else slowly becomes minuscule in the grand seam of things. He feels happy around you, like he matters, like he has someone to trust, like he has someone who won't abandon him. Because of this, he sees you as a new goal. A new hope. Failing you is not an option. Disappointing you is not an option. Hell, even a frown from you is unacceptable in his eyes.

Noritoshi tries to cling to you at this point in his own way... He enjoys it when you speak to him, or even sit next to him, so much so that he seeks you out when you're not there. You'd feel eyes boring holes into the back of your head, a sense of being followed, sometimes seeing your shadow accompanied by another, every time you turn around to be surprised by a familiar face. His footsteps are so quiet that you barely notice Noritoshi walking around.

Unfortunately, due to Noritoshi’s inexperience, the only way he knows how to impress people is by being “perfect” a.k.a. his strict, pain in the ass, annoying heir shtick. He would be the type to get on your case, scold, coddle, nitpick, correct you, and practically look like he's trying to bully you when in reality he's trying to hear praise from you for "helping" you. He’s waiting for you to see the affection and adoration behind his nagging, is he not being obvious enough? oh well, at least your eyes are on him for now. When most people in Noritoshi's life have either put him second or flat-out abandoned him, he's satisfied with anything he can get from you. Though he'd prefer praise, the thought of your attention being given to another even for a second makes his stomach feel like it's tying in knots, so he settles for your annoyed tuts and glares.

Of course, after a while, you'd get tired of this and tell him to knock it off. Or some variation of what a decent human being would do like, “Do whatever you want, but don't meddle in people's business.”

You KNOW he's going to be picking that apart in the middle of the night while looking up at the ceiling. What did you mean by that? Do you mean ANYTHING he wants? As long as he doesn’t bother anyone? Were you talking about yourself and everyone in general? Were you talking about someone specific? Did you leave it up for him to decide? Thoughts and questions circle in his head until he twists your words enough into something that he favors again. Ah, you allow him to do whatever he wants so long as he doesn't get in your way. But he wants to be alongside you... Did you mean in your way to the point of annoyance? Noted. From then on, Noritoshi's strictness softened into light nagging and bearable hovering. He'd knock it off completely through gritted teeth and furrowed brows if you threatened him with the silent treatment. He'll slowly start it up again until you begin ignoring him, only then will he get the hint and relax a bit. only until next time, of course.

The intensity of Noritoshi's coddling can fluctuate depending on your actions. (recklessness, obedience, shyness, etc.) it's his love language.

It's a completely different story if someone else decides to nag you as Noritoshi does... If someone scolds you, Noritoshi's on the offense. He's known for his occasional bluntness and sassy remarks, but this time... He's contradicting himself all in an attempt to get the other person to back away. If the one scolding you brings up points Noritoshi used in the past, he firmly denies them all and stands by your side. He'd rather sound hypocritical than let someone else care for you the way he does. Noritoshi stands in front of you, almost guarding you with his body and begins his barrage of deflective comments through his clenched jaw such as “That's not your place to say” “Shut it, they did no wrong.” “You don't know the reason why they did so, leave them alone.” and other things similar to that. Jeez, take your advice Noritoshi.. He’d argue and become antagonistic towards someone scolding you, even if it's exactly what he was about to do.

The same goes for someone who tries to be gentle with you to a lesser degree. It's nice that people see how wonderful you are, but having your smiles and kind words directed at anyone else other than Noritoshi is... Upsetting. The resentment gradually pools in the pit of his stomach and suddenly finds himself impulsively moving towards you and this "friend." He stands in between you and the kind person, trying his best to conceal his sneers. He wants nothing more than to have the third party get swallowed up by the ground or hit by a car, but he keeps his composure. Noritoshi sternly states how he’ll handle everything from then on and gives the third party a glare that's much more hateful than usual… Finally! Noritoshi has you to himself again! All is right in the world once more...

Noritoshi has always been on a very tight rope... Any wrong step and it’s going to snap. The more Noritoshi gets attached to you, the easier it is to convince himself that it's okay to cross certain lines to make sure you're safe with him. Even if that line he’s crossing, includes murder. It'd happen quicker if he caught feelings after the whole incident with the Kamo clan. You'd be the only thing he has left, the only thing he'd cling onto with every fiber of his being, emotionally and sometimes physically.

And like every fairy tale, a problem unconventionally shows itself much to Noritoshi's dismay... Noritoshi is shown to be prideful at times. Because of this, he'd try to conceal his more embarrassing emotions and reactions towards you. He wants to be seen as someone strong you can rely on, a steady pillar to your stability, someone who will do anything you wish at the drop of a hat, but it’s almost impossible to execute when he feels like he's nothing but putty in your hands at the slightest sign of positive reciprocation.

If Noritoshi felt his face heating up because your laugh caught him off guard, he'd turn his head to hide how that simple action made him nearly melt into mush. If your hand brushed against his, he'd quickly swipe it away. Not because he doesn't want to touch you, but because you'd feel how shaky and sweaty his palms got with just a graze. Noritoshi's gaze always lingers on his bow if you ever touch it causing his aim to decline in accuracy significantly.

He mentally curses himself out every time he pulls away from you because he knows he's sending mixed signals. Noritoshi loves you endlessly, but please spare his fragile heart. Your presence overwhelms him like no other, and he's utterly conflicted on how to act. He can handle being by your side like he wants, but the second your 100% focus is on him and only him, he’ll start to squirm under your gaze. Noritoshi wants to impress you! Stop being so mesmerizing for just a second so he can gather his thoughts and not embarrass himself! A-ah, but don't look away!!!

Tl;dr Noritoshi as a yandere is needy and petty as hell, but will explode if he gets an ounce of affection! He’s also! A creepy hopeless romantic who sends you mixed signals!

[s-aint-elmo]

digging out the eah content i created in a frenzy during last year’s summer of obsession part 1: my personal sapphic multishipping guide (created to explain to my friends which of these dolls i think should hold hands)

(more in-depth discussion of the ships below the cut)

the polycule that will take over ever after

kitty/lizzie; kitty/maddie; maddie/lizzie

self-explanatory. frequently purchased together do not separate. bonus shoutout to maddie canonically giving kitty a little kissie on the cheek and getting off scot-free in the books though. a wonderlandiful world was a banquet to me

cedar protection squad

once again a wonderlandiful world and once upon a time i owe you my life. kitty ESP being so adamant abt not giving a shit then turning around and fucking up those boys who were mean to cedar...... i love friendship

kitty/cerise

also self-explanatory. she was a catgirl she was a wolfgirl can i make it anymore obvious. also doribuki’s phenomenal fake dating fanfic....... transformative foundational transcendental

cerise/raven

YOU MUST UNDERSTAND. i entered eah a rapple shipper and exited the book series ready to burn at the stake for cerise/raven. book two was SO MUCH. it had everything. raven befriending cerise despite her attempts to isolate herself. texting in class. winking at each other. raven meeting the parents and hearing embarrassing baby cerise stories. cerise putting it all on the line to save raven. i’m ambivalent about shadow high but cerise gets literally one (1) mention and it’s in raven’s internal monologue wherein she equates cerise’s hood w feelings of warmth and safety. like how was that in any way necessary. i rest my case 

raven & maddie

self-explanatory as well. dabesties. the ride or dies. it means so much to me that raven always has a friend in maddie no matter how many clowns and jokers (derogatory) treat her like the antichrist. maddie the character ever

raven/apple

WHAT IT SAYS ON THE TIN. the gelphie dynamic is a classic and i am EXTREMELY vulnerable to it. they are THE ship and i will pay my respects to the end of time. i am a big fan of how they trade their roles throughout the franchise and how rich the drama and history are between them. it’s pure fucking poetry.

raven/darling

TBH. a serve. the only thing juicier than evil queen/damsel in distress is evil queen/princess charming. big big fan of darling giving raven the five star princess treatment after a lifetime of being feared and shunned and vilified. equally big fan of raven’s momentous act of rebellion giving darling the courage to be true to herself. ALSO. the absolute archetype-subversion slay of the Pure-Hearted Hero(TM) confronting the Mistress of Evil(TM) and dropping their sword. looking through the smoke and mirrors and the will of Fate itself to see the girl who has wanted nothing but to be kind beneath. swearing their heart and soul and sword to the one true good they have found. picture it. i can almost see the 100-word drabble

raven/apple/darling

now THIS is just THE fairytale couple. the evil queen, the damsel in distress and the princess charming ALL holding hands and riding off into the sunset together. dappling on its own doesn’t do it for me but raven in the mix just makes everything gel perfectly. she’s the tomato in the ratatouille the cornstarch in the spring roll water, etc etc

darling/holly

this is one of those ships where i read a really convincing fic and the more i thought of it the more it just made sense. like they'd read swashbucklers and tales of courtly love together. holly would 100% write a darling placeholder in her self-insert romance fanfic pre-relationship as a way to express her feelings. darling would 100% find out and gently pull her out of the pit of sheer mortification she drilled into the ground to escape. also the height difference is a thing of beauty

safe from the polycule

duchess/poppy

they have one singular episode to their name and it was enough. it was Everything. the dynamic you can extrapolate from that one single interaction is so incredibly appealing to me. duchess’s bitchiness belied by her palpable air of vulnerability coming up against poppy’s spine of steel tempered by her skill in gaining perspective. poppy can challenge duchess into being a better person and duchess can be poppy’s character flaw like idk she just has shit taste in women that was the price she had to pay to be moisturized and unbothered by destiny. i just think they have the potential to be the unexpected, inexplicable power couple of eah

briar/faybelle

do i even need to say anything they had a whole movie to make their case. they’re rapple if rapple got their shit together before armageddon, with the bonus of a potential curse-breaking true love’s kiss for the fanfic authors to thrash between their teeth. truly unlimited. also unlike rapple where raven is 100% against being a villain and therefore it’s apple who has to do the mental gymnastics to open herself to the possibility of a relationship w raven, faybelle is just chomping at the bit to make her momma proud and presents a compelling perspective for the whole “falling in love w your fated nemesis” thing

blondie/cupid

they are icons, they are legends, and they ARE the moment. these two are so chaotic individually, what with blondie’s criminal skillset and habit of menacing innocent woodland creatures and cupid’s matchmaking powers combined w her shitty aim, that putting them together can only mean good things. there’s this whole element of their shared passion as public figures who at their best seek the truth and guide others through matters of the heart respectively that’s always interesting as a point of irony/obstacle when they start catching feelings and have to decide what to do with them. their joint youtuber/podcaster slay can level nations

[deramin2]

Bell's Hells had a mental health crisis on the eve of their deployment to the global crisis front lines, and went to a HAG for help. Protected only by being with her granddaughter (mob boss's granddaughter core). Specifically one who delights in voyeurism of bumbling awkwardness and failure. She treats people like her own personal soap opera. Allura said she's known to feed off misery. They tell Mori her intervention could influence the entire fate of the gods and the world.

FCG makes a deal with the hag and ASKS to have their memory wiped so they'd get to be surprised about what happens. Likely the payment was them being sufficiently interesting and dramatic for her because they implicitly trust her to help them.

The hag then tosses a magic lens into an ordinary feywild ravine with three magically enforced rules: they must bring her the lens to win. If they speak truths, a path will appear upwards. If they tell lies a new thing will go wrong for them. She then watches them escalate her high-stakes truth or dare game into telling each other their rawest internal shit they were keeping to themselves but were coloring their feelings. Fair or not. They do this remarkably willingly under her trap.

Then she sets them up on a video game platformer challenge where you have to physically navigate a path overa casm blind protected only by your friends in co-op chat looking the map. She sets up thunder hornets nests to punish themIf they have natural human reactions of concern. They win two rounds and then lose one. So she makes a new rule that they can take the loss (and unknown consequences) or try one more time but instead of it being safe game rules it's now potentially deadly. They agree. This time they win through expert teamwork and suppressing their emotions.

Last the hag sets them up with a game of TF2 vs. a spy team but no one knows who's missing. They have to capture three briefcases while KNOWING some of their team mates are working against them. Orym has to execute those contingency plans while uncovering whose a traitor and who's actually on his side but as sketchy as usual.

This is what they've all discussed as their nightmare scenario. This is what they are so afraid to go through that the misery is tearing them apart. She's forcing them to go through the thing they least want to face. As a practice run. Because the fear underneath is not just of betrayal, but failure. That if they can't work together they will fail to save the world, and thus everyone in the world. What's that really look like if that happened and you could lose for real? And not know what happens to them if they fail.

Some A+ reality TV content produced by Mori Entertainment. They might win an Exandrian daytime Emmy. Look at all that abject bubbling missery being created. An incredible feast willingly given. All they have to do is be normal for them in her vicinity and they basically asked her to feed off them as a favor to try an unsanctioned new therapy method on humanoid subjects. If she does nothing to hurt them except giving them games they asked for, she still gets a gourmet meal.

Nana Mori is simultaneously being a doting grandmother and a terrifying fey nightmare and Bell's Hells are like "please grandmother I think your death traps could fix me."

Will dopplegangers fix them? That remains to be seen. Depends on how they handle it. But they'll have a trial run to know for sure. That gives them time to break for real or adjust. Mori IS the fate stitcher, and thread came to her begging to be sewn. She plucks the strings that she finds most interesting. And whatever else they are, Bell's Hells are very interesting.