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romana-after-dark · 7 months ago

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Rooms on Fire: Sundown

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Ben shows his true colors

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Oh my god the violence. Violent is here. Im so sorry.

4.4k words

"I can picture every move that a man could make Getting lost in her loving is your first mistake Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs Sometimes I think it's a sin When I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losing again" ~Sundown, Gordon Lightfoot

Rey always had a way of making things better.

You were sat on the kitchen counter in a loose tank top and baggy shorts that may or may not be Will’s boxers, watching Ray cook for you an Iris. She’d been feeling unwell this morning, no doubt the stress of everything that happened the last few weeks getting to her normally impenetrable facade. You found out she caught the tail end of what Will did to Jonah. Now both of you had watched your fathers die.

But Rey had been emotional support to both of you. You leaned more on your husbands, but Rey gave a sense of normalcy. He was a lot like Ben, making it so you could let go of the guilt that plagued you constantly, clearing your mind of the swirling thoughts of Beatriz and Santiago’s true natures.

Will was safe. Protective and gentle and strong, he continued to dot on you, massaging vitamin c oil into your scars to reduce them now that they could take a little bit of pressure. Your healer, your guardian. You thanked him profusely for protecting you against Jonah’s attempt to rape you, even if parts of you still wished he wasn’t dead.

Francisco was who you were the most honest with. You could tell him how you felt about Santiago and Beatriz, work out your confusing thoughts in soft whispers when you were with only him. Santiago never let Francisco sleep with you anymore at night.

Walking past you to open the oven, he gave your hand a squeeze, lingering a bit. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it; he just wanted you to feel better. To know he was there. He was better than this place, you knew now. Better than this world.

“Madonna! There you are!” Ben rushes in with Will behind him, reaching for you. “Christ! I was worried!”

You’re a bit shocked, but can’t help sliding into his arms. “What do you mean? I’m right here…”

Ben holds you close, your body pressed against his, skin to skin making you cringe. It wasn’t him, it was the idea of touch lately at all.

Will clarified. “You said you were going to be in the garden, we were worried when we didn’t see you.”

You try to squirm out of Ben’s arms. His grip is hard and uncomfortable… he’s too close. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just- ow, Ben- I didn’t think I needed to let you know? I never did before… Ben, please-” He’s kissing you now, your cheek, your neck, your lips… you don’t want Rey and Iris to see you like this… You hear Iris say something, but can’t quite make it out.

“That was before. With everything that’s happened, Jonah, the assasination attempt, we need to know where you are, always.” You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in front of Iris. You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in general. You squirm and try to dodge his kisses.

He rubs against the deepest burn on your belly, making you whimper, trying to push him away. Memories of Jonah’s attack flash in your hands, and suddenly he’s pulled off you. You think for a moment it’s Will, but you see Ben’s blonde hair fisted in Iris’s hand.

“She said stop!” Iris yanks him away and horror drops in your stomach. Ben wouldn’t hurt her, no, you didn’t need to worry, Ben was loving, fun, sunshine- He swung, clocking Iris on the jaw.

What happened next was a blur. Reyansh was on Ben is a second, a rage you’d never seen from your sweet guard before, and the two rays of sunshine throwing hands. Reyansh is slammed against the wall and you shout, wanting to run to him but before you even move Will’s hand is on your wrist. You watch two men you love beating on each other, Rey kneeing Ben in the balls and throwing him to the ground where he momentarily had the advantage. Ben, however, gripped Rey’s hair and used the momentum to roll their bodies over so Ben was on top. You’d seen Ben use the same move during sex.

“WILL! DO SOMETHING!” You scream, watching them hurt each other but Ben with the clear advantage. Still, all he does is hold you back, fingers stroking your hair in an attempt to placate you, but you can’t stand by… still, you can’t get in the middle of a bloody fist fight, especially after watching Jonah die… why couldn’t Will step in when he clearly had the strength to? Ben has the upper hand, and looks like he’s close to killing rey the way Jonah died.

You see Iris make a move to get Ben off him, and Francisco who was previously frozen in shock runs to her. She tried to get out of his grasp, but he simply pushes her away and tackles Ben down. Francisco uses his weight to pin him, using a soothing voice to try and calm the fit. You yank your hand, hand, releasing it from Will’s grasp and painfully pulling on the burnt skin but you needed to get to Rey. Iris pulls his head on her lap, and he spits out some blood onto her dress but gives his girl a weak smile.

“You alright, my love?” He asks her, despite you cleaning blood off his face and her seeming unharmed.

She chuckles, crying but gives him a smile as well. “I’m alright, baby. I’m alright.”

Will is standing above you. You see Ben and Francisco are rising now, Frankie still holding Ben.

“What the hell was that, Saha!”

Rey doesn’t dignify Will with an answer, but you turn to him, giving a little bite to your tone.

“He was defending his girl, Will. You’d done the same for me.”

“Madonna…” He warning in a stern voice, one that made you feel like a child being admonished by a house mother again. “He is a guardsmen, sworn to protect us, not throw punch-”

You looked up at him again, snapping. “He hit Iris!”

Ben chimed in with a ‘She hurt me first!’ but Will ignored him. “She involved herself in something she had no business to.”

“But Ben!-” You were cut off my Iris whispering your name. Her eyes were fearful… and you realize they held the same glint as when you caught her and Ben together… She mouthed, ‘don’t.’

Your eyes never leave hers. “Well, she’s my friend and he’s my personal guard so she’s under my protection.”

Fracicsco’s arms pull you, careful not to touch your sensitive parts. He’s telling you to go, but you worry for Rey and Iris.

“Will, you can’t hurt them, please?”

“I’m not-”

“But you are!” You pull at Francisco’s hand. “You are, because they hurt Ben but please! Don’t!”

Will sighs, shoulders relaxing down as he decides not to lie. “Madonna, they have to be punished. I promise it won’t be harsh.” His blue eyes look remorseful and honest, like he’s resigned to his duties. You trust he wouldn’t be unnecessarily cruel and you knew punishment was important in corrections… but this was Rey and Iris, your friends… Rey, who had only ever loved and protected you. Iris, despite everything, she took care of you.

This time when you pull your arm Francisco lets go, and you rush to Will. You reach for his face, cupping it as you stare into his eyes. Will’s expression was soft, indulgent. He was listening. “Look at him, Will.” You gesture to where Reyansh still bloodied Iris’s skirts. “They both got hit, and Rey took enough for both, don’t you think?”

He seemed sympathetic to the pain Rey was in. “That’s the natural consequence of a fight, Madonna. I need to punish them properly, according to our rules.”

Tears fill your eyes and you hear Ben grumble, Francisco shushing him. “My husband, my love…” You beg him in choked words. You try to appeal to his sense of ownership over Rey and the guards. “He’s your guard, and someone hurt him… can’t we just call it even? Please?”

“No, Madonna.”

Rey coughs from the ground below you, trying to sit up. “I can take it, Will. Just don’t hurt Iris.”

With that, Will’s face shifts. This pulls at something and you take it. “He was just trying to protect her! You’d do the same if anyone hit me, Will, please you killed a man for me, you killed Melanie for me, I know you understand…” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles that were still healing for beating Jonah to death. “Please… there's been so much pain here this week… I promise, I promise they learned.”

Ben must've seen Will considering, because he spoke. “Don’t let them get away with it, that bitch put her hands on me!”

His language shocked you, never hearing him talk like that, and Francisco saw the look in your eyes. “Will, c’mon… I think his nose is broken… and Iris just lost her dad… Madonna is under a lot of stress, don’t give her more.”

Finally, Will sighs despite Ben’s protests. He walks over to where Iris and Rey sit and helps them both up. “Go.” He says to Iris. “You can use my medicine closet. Patch him up. I expect him back on duty tonight.”

“Will! What the hell!” Ben shouts but you run up to Will, giving him a short peck on the cheek and whispering thank you.

Will tells Ben to fuck off, and goes to unlock his medicine for Reyansh. Iris turns and gives you a smile.

“You just like to touch everyone but me, don’t you?” Ben’s words shock you back to reality.

“What? Ben… it’s not…” You reach for Francisco’s hand for security as he admonishes Ben, but he continues.

“You kiss Will, and I see you holding Saha’s hand, and now Frankie? But don’t think I’ve noticed you havn’t fucked me!”

“Benjamin!” Francisco shouts as you shrink at Ben’s words. He’s never spoken to you like this, and you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him angry, certainly not at you. “She’s had a traumatic months for fucks sake! Between Santi and Jonah can you go without pussy for a few fucking days?”

“I don’t know Frank, can you go without Santi’s dick in your ass for more than a few days?”

For the next several minutes, the two argued, exchanging heated words and painful secrets. You’d learned Francisco fucks Santiago every night, and the dark spots on his neck were from the husband who’d burned you alive. You learned Ben was sleeping with half of delta still. You learned there was a whole word that existed between the four of them that not only happened before you, but existed outside of you. You thought you were the nucleus holding them together. Instead, you were just the meal they feasted on.

You were finally well enough for him to take you on the horse, a careful walk, out to your meadows again. By now, you were too big to straddle him with his cock inside you and your skin and belly couldn’t bear his body against you. So, as you watched him set up the blanket, you knew you’d miss the feeling of napping in the warm sun with his cock stretching you.

“C’mere, baby.” Francisco helps you sit and then lay down, pulling you close with you using his meaty arm as a pillow.

“I miss you.” You mutter, and he kisses your neck.

His hand holds your stomach, feeling your baby kick. “I’m right here”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

There was silence for a moment, letting the birds sing and breeze below through the rustling grass. It was so nice out, and you were thankful for your skimpy dress. You are reminded of all the times you laid here, endless hours making him flower crowns, braiding the little ones into his hair, kissing him, napping… all while he’s stuffed inside you, your skirt spread around your thighs. How many times has Jonah seen you like this? Had he watched from the trees as you fucked in languid strokes, not even trying to cum but just to feel him bucking into you?

Or when Santiago had tripped you, burning your cothes off, fucking you by the fire… had Jonah stood and watched? Had he taken in the view, his own pornography, before helping you? Or when Francisco finger fucked you on the horse, had he savored your sweet sounds and memorized them for nights alone with his fist? How long had he wanted you? How long had he taken even innocent moments and turned them into something vile?

You felt Francisco’s hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks, and by instinct you scoot away just a tiny bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry Madonna I’m not trying too- I don’t know why-”

“It’s okay.” No one had been inside you since Jonah’s attempt, you barely let them touch you… but you had to trust Francisco, right? He was good. He was so, so good. “It’s… it’s okay…”

The feeling of him shaking his head russells your hair. “No, no love, it’s not…” He’s pulling back from you and you miss the warmth of his body so you reach back and grab him.

“I miss you…” You choke out. “I miss feeling you inside me… I miss you… please? I want you so bad, Francisco.”

“Baby…” He caresses you cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve been through a lot…”

“And I don’t want it to change us. Santiago, Jonah… I won’t let them tear us apart…”

He kisses the back of your head. “They won’t. I won’t ever let that happen. You are more important than them.”

It slips out before you can stop. “Am I more important than Ben?”

“I love you.”

You don’t have it in you to press further, instead you arch your back so that your ass brushes against his cock in his pants. “So much has happened… I need this… I need to know you still love me.”

He sighs, stating firmly. “I do love you…” but he moved to unbuckle his pants. You wished you could see him, you wished you could see the way his belly folded over his jeans. You wished you could run your hands over the skin and feel the hair on his chest. But you weren’t ready for that. Instead you just relaxed into his arms, relaxed into him, his safety, his protection. When he pushes your skirt up, his hands are large over your asscheeks and you enjoy feeling covered by him. When he slides in, your body makes room for the familiar feeling.

“Do you want me to make love to you? Or do you just want me inside?”

“Make love, please…”

A gentle kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you.”

Sliding inside you once again, Frankie felt a homecoming. He loved the long hours you and him would spend here, cumming inside you multiple times but keeping you plugged up with his cum. He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time getting inside you properly, loving you the way you wanted to… he would have knocked you up first if he’d been going at this rate… but now, the odds weren’t in his favor.

Frankie revelled in the sound of your mewling, soft and tender like a little kitten… his to protect. As he slowly thrust into you, he vowed he wouldn’t let anyon hurt you again. He needed to talk to Ben, to Will… he needed them to get on board. You clearly cared for Iris and Rey and they cared for you, so he needed to make sure they were protected. Ben had been sneaking out more, going into the community to presumably fuck some other young niave thing… but a rule had been laid about Iris. The fact she was fucking him had been out of her character anyway, but it was over now.

Ben needed to stop sleeping with everyone he could get his hands on, and he needed to respect Madonna’s personal space and boundaries. He was not entitled to her body, especially after all this happened.

Looking up the hill and into the trees, Francisco saw Ben. He stood tall, a scowl on his face; he didn’t like that he got to be inside you.

Francisco sped up his movements, fucking up into you and making you cry out in pleasure. You were unaware of your audience. He never let up eye contact as he rammed his cock into your core and pressed you close to him. His hands felt you up, showing Ben what he was missing. Sitting atop his horse, Francisco watched as Benjamin pulled out his dick and began stroking himself furiously. It was a scramble after that, Frankie wanting you to cum before Ben did, to ruin his little show but still show off what Frankie could do, the sounds you could make.

“Francisco…” You whine, and he buries his face in your neck after checking your eyes were still closed, lost in pleasure.

“I’m right here, Madonna. Always right here…” His longer fingers swirled your clit, and he knew you were close by the way you were clenching down hard. Perfect, you were perfect. Your body shook in his arms as he filled you, the sweet sounds of your orgasm echoing through the meadow valleys and hills and up to Ben’s ears. Francisco didn’t see if he came; he didn’t care anymore. He needed to take care of his Madonna, for suddenly you were crying.

“I wish it was you.” You sob into his sleeved up arm. He was thankful today didn’t require undressing. He didn’t want to have to explain the cuts.

“What do you-”

“The baby! I wish it was yours!”

He brushes a stray lock out of your face as he attempts to sooth you. “May it is… we don’t know…”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “It’s Will or Bens. I just know it. Those first months, you barely touched me, and after I fail the first time Santiago only touched me once a night!” The way you had switched from Pope to Santiago was not lost on him. “It’s one of them!”

“Is that a bad thing? They’ll love that baby too, just like I will.”

“SANTIAGO WILL KILL ME!”

You explained yourself then, what Santi said. How he threatened you. You had one job, according to him, and that was to get pregnant. It wasn’t suppossed to matter if it was by the Millers, by Santi or himself… but of course, of course Santi had to fuck with you more, because it isn’t really about the savior for Santi.

It’s about Frankie.

It had been a few days and Rey’s face looked awful. He had definitely broken his nose, bruising showing deeply despite his brown skin.

“I’m fine, swear to the gods.” He promises after catching you staring at his face.

“Your eye is almost swollen shut.”

“Like I said, totally fine.” he jokes and you give him a little kick from where you sat on the counter. Iris was feeling sick so Rey and you were taking over cooking dinner. The pineapple upside down cake was in the oven, and Rey was working on the main dish right now.

He watched you watching him, hesitating before he spoke, his tone more sololm than you were used to. “If you could leave… would you?” He watches your eyes go wide, so he rushed to explain more. “You’re pregnant with the savior, there's nothing that says he needs to be raised here! You told me yourself, Beatriz was evil, Santi… sweetie c’mon he threatened you if the baby is blonde! What if he kills the savior when they are born?”

“Rey!” You whisper harshly. “You’re talking heresy!” Your eyes are wide.

He chuckles tiredly. “We crossed that line a while ago… Listen… I know you love that baby, I know you want them to grow up safe and happy but that can’t be here. You’re husbands, they are batship insane and you know it.”

“No.” You shake your head, refusing to accept it. “No, it’s just… Santi, I think he needs help… I can help him, I can make him a better-”

Reyansh grips your shoulders now, an intensity you weren’t expecting. “No! You can’t! It's not just you, you have to realize that. He didn’t hurt you because you did anything wrong. You take off Frankie’s shirt right now and you’ll see a fucking masscure because he’s fucking losing it! He’s dangerous! And Ben, he-”

Reyansh stops, voice cracking and you notice the wetness of his eyes. The pain is etched into every line on his young face. “He rapes my wife. My beautiful, precious wife- he… and I didn’t know, this whole time I had no idea what he’s been doing to her…” You can see he’s crying now, and you’re frozen in fear, reaching for his wet face. “I just let it happen this whole time but now I know the truth, and it’s not happening again and I can’t bear to see you get hurt again. I’m gonna get her out, and I want you to come. I don’t want to leave you here but… I have to protect my family. I want that family to mean you too, anuja.”

There was so much to process here, your mind was whirling from everything you were told, but the idea of Iris and Ben… Did you walk in on her being raped by your husband? Had Ben truly tried to get you in on it, to kiss and touch her while she was raped? To make you an accomplice in his crimes? You think of how she looked at you… fuck, how could you not see it? How did you think she was willingly a part of it when it was clear she loved Reyansh? And you treated her so horrible after…

“I’m gonna be sick.”

Your head spins, and Rey wraps his arms around to set your feet on the floor again. The hand that gently touched his wet, bearded cheek now was on his shoulder to steady yourself as he slid you down from the counter. His arms firm but chaste around you as he pressed against the marble.

“Hey take a deep breath-” His face was ripped away from you, eyes wide as Rey was pulled back by his hair. Then, before you can react, his already bruised head is slammed into the corner of the countertop.

He begins screaming and you do too.

You can see Santiago in the doorway, but he makes no attempt to stop the events unfolding in front of you, does nothing as Ben grabs the kitchen knife and throws it directly into Reyansh’s chest where he lay in agony. The scene has begun to garner a crowd, Frankie running in at the sounds of your screams but freezes in shock as blood files the kitchen once again.

“BEN! STOP!!!” You scream, but Ben’s eyes are crazed and he’s screaming at Rey not to touch you.

You aren’t sure the exact moment his eyes go dead and body falls limp, no longer reacting to the mass of stabs Ben continues to inflict, but you know it’s already too late when Iris bursts in, screaming her lover’s name. When she runs to where Ben is slowing down, straddling over your best friend’s dead body, Francisco reacts quickly, scooping her up and grabbing Iris’s arms behind her back.

“REY! REY! REY!” Iris screams non stop, fighting to get out of Francisco’s grasp as he tells her it’s too dangerous.

Finally, Ben falls over, panting in exhaustion. He throws up on the floor and you realize he’s drunk. The smells of vomit mixes with copper in the the room as the fluids run together. You are barely standing, knees weak, palms sweaty, unable to process what you’ve seen as Ben stands up and stumbles towards you. Will is in the room now, taking it all in, muttering ‘jesus christ Benny… what did you do…’

But walks towards you, a bright smile of white teeth a strange flash of color among the red covering his face. Red. He’s covered in Reyansh’s blood.

“Hey baby, wanna give me a kiss?”

Ben is pulled away from you.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Francisco screams to him and you slide to the ground.

“He was touching her!” Ben tries to defend, but francisco is infuriated. He shoved Ben away, moving him to the door. On the ground, Iris is desperately trying to get Rey to come alive. The shakes, the touches to his face, the wretched sobs and ugly cries do nothing as he lays limp in her arms.

“FUCK YOU BENNY! HE WAS HER FRIEND! HE WAS MINE!” Francisco shoves him hard, making Ben stumble into Santiago.

Will steps up, gathering his fist in Francisco’s shirt. “Hey! Keep your fucking hands off him!” In which Santiago steps in and says something similar to Will. They begin to argue and fight and scream at each other; you are left on the floor, inconsequential. When you have the courage to look at Rey’s mangled corpse again, you gather the courage to crawl to him. Up close, the carnage in unbelievable.

There are massive gashes in him, holes in his body you can’t believe he had the strength and rage to go that hard into so many times. A stabwound in his eye. A hole in his cheek.

“Rey…” You sob, reaching out for your bloodied friend. The door shuts behind you and you aren’t sure whose left. “Im so sorry, I’m so, so-”

Iris shoves you backwards, forcing you to fall softly on your butt. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” She screams at you, and you sit in shock. She’s never spoken to you like this.

“Iris-”

“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE DANGEROUS TERRITORY!”

Francisco’s arms are around you, a feeling you’d recognize instantly. “I D-didn’t- I did mean-”

“You NEVER DO!” Her eyes are vicious, a fury that far surpassed anything you’ve ever seen in your life. “You are so goddamn stupid, walzing around here like you live in FUCKING FARIE TALE and leave a trail of dead bodies behind you! You dad, Jonah, and now YOU HAD TO GET MY REY KILLED!”

You are speechless. She’s right. Everything is your fault. Jonah said your dad just wanted a better life for you… was that drive the reason the uprising started? Was the death of him, Deacon Tom, Delilah and all the rebels your fault? She had said she didn’t blame you for Jonah… but now her voice joins the chores of everyone else in your life… it was all your fault.

Francisco picks you up.

I'm so sorry

Months and months ago while constructing this story, I had a friend i was working on it a lot with. She had a big hand in creating Iris and Rey. The entire time, before it was entirely planned out even, I knew he was going to die. I knew there was no happy ending to be had for Iris and Reyansh. And that made some scenes very hard too write. Rey didn't deserve any of it. He was a good man who loved his "wife." (not legally married bc cult stuff but in all the ways that matter, they were.)

There is no going back from this now. Madonna is shown who Ben and Santi are.

The last poll i fucked up! It was suppossed to be who does BEN love most lol

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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softrozene · 2 years ago

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Comforting Female Reader Who Has Experienced an Assault

Anon asked: Hey honey, I was too shy to ask off of anon... But do you think you could do some HC’s for the boys helping a f!reader who was previously sexually assaulted? I am having a really tough time right now. ( I am handling it all and I have people helping me too) it’s just really weird for me to deal with I guess Thank you sweet Ro!

rdr2 masterlist

I’m sorry to hear that stuff like that is happening to you but if you ever need someone to talk to just to vent or for advice you are always welcome to talk to me since I have experienced past sexual assaults and harassments. It’s always a no-judgment zone when talking to me fyi. Just remember everyone processes it differently but you are not alone and hopefully the people helping you are a strong support system.

I love you anon and I hope these make you feel better.

I chose almost all the males I usually write for because they would all kill/die for the ones they love.

Originally published on February 11, 2020

*Speaking to everyone who reads this: These can be taken as platonic relationships or romantic. Just know I am not romanticizing the issue. There will be solid advice. There will be dumb advice. These are after all my headcanons for how I think they would treat the issue with a fem!reader (I think with a male!reader they would act just a little bit differently. This is a sensitive topic so please read the warnings and just remember you are all loved.

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, fluff, mentions of past sexual assault

Hosea Matthews-

He would hear this from you directly

Would be shocked before he drops everything in order to listen to you

If you don’t wanna talk about it he won’t push you but he will hint that it may make you feel better

If it happened all in the past he would piece together some of your tendencies that relate to the assault, what you tend to avoid and whatnot, and basically, he’ll help you so nothing at the camp will trigger you

If it happened more recently he will try and urge you to tell him who it is so he can sick the boys on them, without your knowledge of course

He’ll just say “It’s been taken care of Sweetheart. No need to worry about it.”

Hosea is the most caring one out of them all and will constantly check up on you, see how you are doing/feeling, will get you whatever you want whenever you want, and more importantly will always put others in their place if he feels they are getting on your nerves or are crossing boundaries

If you do daily talks he’ll always ask if it’s okay to hug you or hold your hand because he wants you to know desperately how much you mean to him and the gang

If he sees you heading down the wrong path, he will pick you up without a doubt. Orders you to take care of yourself and if you don’t listen to him, he will send Arthur and John the most awkward boys in the universe to go and talk you into doing the stuff he told you to do

He’ll do about anything you want in order for you to feel better and get past this traumatic experience

“We can’t change what happened to us. That’s all in the past. However, we can change how it affects us now. How we’ll go on in the future. Turn this into something to make you stronger.”

Dutch Van Der Linde-

Will deadass go on a rampage after learning you’ve been assaulted

All you have to say is that you got hurt by someone- He doesn’t need any details unless you want to fill up the rage he already has

He will hunt down whoever they are no matter where they are with most of the gang by his side, it doesn’t matter how long ago it was, he wants to see that bastard/bitch who did this to you in the ground

“And they will surely be dealt with” literally will be his words- Anyway after they are dealt with will he only focus on you

He’ll be careful with you and probably the most annoying thing he can and will do is, treat you like glass

It doesn’t matter anymore if this was in the past or more recently, he will make sure someone he trusts is by your side and preferably a woman so probably Miss Grimshaw

Eventually, he will realize that he is overdoing it but he will give you one of his speeches saying it’s only because he worries about you

You just gotta be upfront with him, tell him what you need and what you do not need, and he will fix himself after apologizing

Expect a lot more gifts from yours truly

By a lot, I mean a lot

He will make it rain jewelry for you if it means you know how much he cares

Can’t say that about the money though

If it still lingers over you he will without a doubt, try and help you through the process of at least accepting what happened well happened

“Try and focus on the now and make yourself better for the future” Or something along those lines would be his advice

Arthur Morgan-

Is a saint no matter what he says

You would have to tell him face-to-face and rather bluntly that you were assaulted. If you hint at it, he may take a moment before he realizes what you mean

He won’t act fast but he will sit down with you and have a talk with you

Of course, he wants to act, his blood would be boiling at the thought of someone even touching you without your consent but for your sake, he will take a breather and wait until you are done venting to him

He would treat you the same

He wouldn’t necessarily tread lightly on certain topics unless he sees that it makes you uncomfortable and omg if one of the boys dares to mess with you he will be on their ass in a hot second

Basically, he may hover but he won’t realize it since he’s treating you the same way as always

It’s up to you as well to decide the fate of who hurt you

If you want them dead, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you want them beaten, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you want them threatened, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you don’t want anything done, he’ll just keep an eye on you and make sure you are faring well

When he’s not at camp he’ll have Hosea, John, or one of the ladies keep an eye on you

He makes sure that you know you can bother him for anything, he may be grumpy about it but he’ll do it just for you

If you’re having nightmares or just can’t sleep you can sleep on his cot and he’ll stay with you until you do fall asleep

If nothing works to make you feel better you bet your ass he’ll take you with him, on rides to town just to get you out and about

His last resort is letting you see his journal- That’s how you know this boy genuinely cares about you because no one touches the journal

“People are not so kind. But you are. What I’m tryin’ to say is don’t let that bastard/bitch put out your light. I care ‘bout ya.”

Charles Smith-

He would be the most understanding like Hosea

Would make sure that you are in a safe space mentally before he allows you to vent

Will reassure you that you are safe no matter what but he will want to get back at this person

It usually goes against his code for killing but he cares about you and no one deserves to get hurt like that so he will take time out of his day (probably go gather Arthur) and go and kill this person

Whether you wanted that or not he would have convinced you this person would probably have another person to prey on soon enough

Speaking of, he will remind you that you are not a victim but a survivor

He’ll be there for you all the way

If you need some company he’s there for you even if you don’t want to talk

Charles can and will be your rock if you need it

He’ll help pick you up and depending on if it’s okay with you, tell a selective few what happened so they can also help you

It may be cheesy but I can see Charles in this scenario making you say positive things about yourself in order to ward away the negative thoughts

“Repeat after me. I am a strong woman. I am resilient. I am a tiger.”

May or may not be making fun of Mr. Pearson at the last one in order to get you to laugh

Either way, he’ll make sure you to feed you positive lines almost every day

If you need to get out he’ll take you on nature rides and remind you out beautiful the world is despite how cruel the people are

He won’t exactly hover but he will be constantly glancing your way at camp to make sure you are all good

Tells you venting is actually good without needing to hear the advice

I forgot to mention it in the others but, all these males will make sure you know self-defense. They give you tips and tricks with each weapon of their choice that way no one will mess with you again

You can always rely on Charles to give you good advice though. Understands that sometimes you just need someone to rely on so you know you’re not alone

“I know you. You are strong and beautiful. Don’t give anyone the power to doubt yourself. Only you have that power.”

John Marston-

Is fucking awkward when it comes to this kind of thing

He will 100% see red as soon as you tell him and no matter what no one but Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea can stop him from going after the person who hurt you (and those three will join him tbh)

He is not the best to talk to about this so he’s okay if you just need the company

May take you to a saloon and get you a drink or two just to ease you, will not give you more

Honestly, I see John as completely awkward and not knowing what to do for this situation. He’s at a loss and if the problem (the person) has been dealt with wouldn’t know how to help you

He would go ask the girls how to cheer you up or make you feel better, go to Hosea would be a better option and would finally just ask you what you need and how so you don’t get stuck in your PTSD

Though he may understand but not in the way that is relatable. He’ll understand the nightmares and such but he won’t understand if you fear that person because his situations have always been near death

He will desperately try to understand you though

Will send Jack your way if that kid can cheer you up

“Well fuck, y’know I always have your back. Just- I um don’t let ‘em get to you.”

Javier Escuella-

This man would have no idea what to say at first

It’ll take him a minute to register before he asks if he can hug you- mostly to reassure himself that you are physically safe

Once that is done and over he will get straight to business and ask what you need

Murdering the person would cross his mind tbh but he’s too focused on you that he won’t ask till much later

If you need to clear your mind he’ll take you fishing, show you how to fish and have Hosea come along so it’s all positive vibes

He’ll write some songs and lullabies for you and serenade you to show you how much he cares

I honestly think Javi bottles everything up when it comes to himself so he’ll be more than happy to talk to you about your PTSD or share stories and even his own past if he deems it right by you

He would gut whoever you want like a fish for you btw

“Hermosa, you’re strength inspires me”

And it truly does

It takes a lot of guts to admit and accept what’s happened and even more to want to reach out for help

Javier would admire that and remind you whenever you need to hear it

Sean Macguire-

Ahaha if you thought John or Dutch had a short fuse for this- The minute he finds out he’s already spouting nonsense of them meeting their demise

And if you allow it or they are not dead he will surely make them have a terrible death

He would risk getting caught by bounty hunters again if that were the case

As for comforting you, this boy doesn’t exactly know how to do that

He laughs off his own traumatic experience so he’d probably be trying to get you to crack a smile or drink with him

Homeboy would try and get you to kill some bloody people for the fun of it ngl

Hopefully, his energy will rub off on you

I don’t really see him as the sitting down type but if he cares about you he is more than willing to listen to you and also more than willing to give you unwanted advice and a shite ton of his opinions

“Yer fuckin’ priceless. No mutherfucker hassa right to touch ye.”

He will end the speech with something gory I bet

*I was going to add Keiran and Lenny but I ran out of ideas but I hope the lovely lads I did write and their reactions/comfort help anyone who needs it

#softrozene writes #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #hosea matthews x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #angst/comfort

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lordelmelloi2 · 2 years ago

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It's so surreal. Like it started with someone who was WELL KNOWN for being into incest on twitter moving to tumblr and then integrating seamlessly into fate tumblr circles without anybody saying anything or even noticing anything even though it was blatantly up-front via a link to their website in their bio. Then another person who was known for being into incest came back to tumblr. Now people are openly discussing wanting to fuck characters that are without-a-doubt underage, stated as underage, and meant to be read as nothing else but underage... all under this guise of like, queer-liberative-act type shit where it's Bold and Awesome to be Unabashedly into Incest and Pedophilia. Because you're queer or whatever. And like a year and a half ago it wasn't like this.

To be honest I feel pretty let down. For a while there I thought I could rely on people to try and be more aware of Why incest/pedophilia shit was wrong, how it normalizes the abuse IRL and actively makes it much more difficult for survivors to come forward about abuse and recover, but somehow it's like everyone mutually all gave up on trying to respect the feelings of survivors in this fandom. Like genuinely. And there's certain things I've given concessions on because I've been here 7 years and I'm pushing 30s and have mellowed out but this is just disappointing. Like you guys can't be serious. You really care so little?

I am acutely aware of how it looks being a Type Moon fan and being against Incest and Pedophilia. I'm also here to tell you as a Type Moon fan I don't think Nasu's intent with his writing is to push incest as a thing that's acceptable. As a Case Files fan I know the work actively condemns it and acknowledges it as an abuse, same with other things like pedophilia and teacher/student relationships and such. I don't think Type Moon is trying to say that incest is okay, otherwise the tragedy that happened to Artoria wouldn't be such a massive glaring focal point in the story, also coming forth in LB6. Like I don't know how many times they need to write a story where the incest is a bad thing for people to get what's being said there.

A lot of Type Moon's themes are just "People struggle with abuse". I enjoy Type Moon works because I enjoy those themes. I loved seeing Sakura lash out during Heaven's Feel and I loved seeing her get called out and I loved seeing her kill her abusers. I loved Rin treating Kirei coldly during FSN and trying to protect Shirou from the emotional abuse that Kirei could inflict in a short period of time, because she was innately familiar with it. I loved Illya's confusing controlling feelings towards Shirou later turning to warmth as she realized she wanted to be family with him. I appreciated how Waver in Case Files tells Reines not to make her incest jokes and how he stands upright against people condoning abuse or enabling abuse in any way. Typically TM works don't try to shy away from showing how people get messy about it. There are things characters do that are showing that they have been abused or groomed, many many times. That's another thing about TM I enjoy.

But I don't enjoy romanticizing or sexualizing that aspects of the character's abuse for my own pleasure. I don't think that's the point of the stories, or the point of what the authors are trying to convey. That's just my personal feelings. But as an incest and pedophilia survivor I can't stand it when people act like the ramifications of said romanticism/sexualization of the messy parts of being abused/abuse in general don't exist. These things affect people. I don't feel safe in the fandom in general anymore because I am noticing this trend where people just don't care about incest as something that Happens to Real Life People and something that shouldn't be so carelessly romanticized. And it's fucking everywhere anymore! In any erotic spaces, there's tons of incest roleplay shit. You don't have to have a Master's in research psychology to know this constant romanticization has real life ramifications. Pedophilia notwithstanding, since most people can generally agree that wanting to fuck teenagers is weird, but somehow 16 is okay? 17 is okay for some of you guys?

It's weird. Genuinely, I think it's weird. I'm just like in disbelief anymore that things have gotten this bad in this short of a period of time. It's not that I'm going to leave tumblr or anything, by god I'll still post forever, I have plans to spend the next 10 years on here lmfao but I just needed to Point It Out. I don't know if there's anybody else who's been feeling this same way as me, but I hope to find others who can openly speak about the way it makes them feel, too. That's really all I want right now. I'm looking for other Type Moon fans who want to make space for incest and abuse survivors and be Open to critique whenever someone points out "hey that character is a minor" rather than just digging their heels in and going "well they're magic/fantasy!" about it.

#I just feel dejected as hell rn lol

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dovahnap · 2 months ago

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Sicko speculation and On separating art from the artist:

So it seems like the whole gay nullman affair has claimed its place as The Center of Discourse, the likes of which we haven’t seen since—how long has it been? Time has lost meaning—let’s just say since the peak of the MeAsWell moment, which occurred during one of the previous two presidential administrations (the news cycles dilute and blend together like paint in water: is this life after 30?). And it feels like a real return to form: it sounds as though like many before him, beneath the benevolent feminist front the dude is a bona fide freak who isn’t above leveraging his fame and reputation for some kinky dubcon action.

The woman profiled most extensively by the article sounds like an actual victim. She was young, isolated, and had attached herself to the guy’s ex-wife as though she were a sort of mother/savior; she’d experienced abuse already—it was a recipe for disaster. And I’m sure that she did experience conflicting feelings about the situation while it was happening. Yes, technically she could have extricated herself at any time, yes, she seemed to romanticize the abuse via selfies which worked as convenient visual aids for the article; possibly one of the most disturbing aspects is the extent to which the guy’s kid was present as a witness (there’s no way that poor kid is making it to week-adjusted adulthood without a lot of therapy). Beyond that, if you’re a defense attorney type, it’s arguable that nothing probably illegal occurred.

But seriously, what the hell was going through the ex-couples’ minds? Specifically, the woman’s. I’m not trying to imply that she holds greater culpability; the dude was the one acting like a vampire LARPist with a disregard for hygiene which is indisputably orders of magnitude worse. But cringey sex guys are a dime a dozen. They’re famous and powerful but inside they still feel like an awkward dork as they try to please everyone, so they have to find someone smaller and weaker to affirm their bigliness or something (I’m just spitballing here; I do not actually know). But what goes through the mind of a woman who sends naive women into that type of situation? Fortunately, I’m too jealous and possessive to ever find myself in this situation (another point for monogamy). But I will speculate. When has this ever gone wrong?

-It might come from a place of seduction-by-proxy: proving value by still providing goods (so to speak) after your novelty has worn off, thus retaining some sense of power?

-It might be a strange way of rationalizing past trauma: “it happened to me and I turned out fine.”

-It might be some kind of sexual Munchausen’s: send girl to be traumatized; play the savior when she cries to you and thus reaffirm your self-image as The Good One

-She could just be a sicko.

I think the reasons why people do things are not so easily explained, but I remain compelled to narrativize. I like to imagine that if we find explanations for bad behavior, we can fix it, everyone can be redeemed, peace on earth, hallelujah. I am delusional, though, as we established long ago.

And here is my second point:

It ought to be a matter of media literacy (meta-media literacy?) to assume that your favorite artist or creator sucks. Just assume that they have some horrible fetish, that they’ve cheated, they have anger issues, that they would be really annoying to know IRL—just assume that they suck. We could avoid so much drama if we learned our lesson if we put a moratorium on thinking highly of strangers who happen to make stuff you like. No, Grelka, that cute DJ is not going to date you if you bang him. Steve, that wholesome egirl hasn’t cleaned her bathroom in a month. There are wads of hair everywhere. Her sink is full of unwashed dishes. Don’t go into debt sending her superchats. Abstain from ruining the ideal with the reality. Put more thought into those you do know. Less glamorous, but glamour is always an illusion. Everything goes to rot, sooner or later. The token is not that which you really desire.

If you must meet someone of whom you are a fan, treat it like being a toddler meeting Ariel at Disneyland. They’re in a costume. Even if the costume closely resembles them, it’s still a costume. You cannot have a real relationship with someone you’ve only spoken to in your head. Prepare yourself for disappointment.

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broken-everlark · 1 year ago

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Exactly beast boy & raven are a perfect example of opposite attract but in a healthy way since raven didn't want to be that way anyway. Since they never actually happened, they are still healthier than wenclair would ever be. They are helping each other be better but not fully changing themselves for said person.

Exactly! Wednesday herself has shown multiple reasons why wenclair wouldn't be healthy. Even in an Addams family way they are still unhealthy as fuck. Because yes Addams family may be a bit kooky and scary but Gomez and Morticia are one of the healthiest and honestly adorable ships because they just adore each other so much and in their own dark way they are wholesome. Like I said I went into the show with 0 expectations & honestly I was expecting to hate it. But I loved what they did. I even love the side characters which I rarely do🤣

I'm so surprised that long time Addams family fans still like wenclair. Their only defense is that opposites attract🤣 or their hug scene or when Wednesday makes Enid mad, and she goes to stay the night in another friends room. Those two scenes literally can be explained so much easier than romance because I got 0 chemistry from them when I first watched this. Remember, I went into this show unbiased & not expecting a good show, so this is my honest first thoughts and they haven't changed. But the scene with Enid switching rooms for a bit & getting frustrated with Wednesday. Was to show that's all Wednesday did, push people away because of her stubborn and dark personality. Enid again wanted Wednesday to change, wanting her to be a bit nicer and stop being so weird (like you said, the taxidermy set & the guillotine). Things Enid doesn't like. But Wednesday, being stubborn and thinking she doesn't need to change ultimately was left alone. Made her think about her actions and how she treated her newly found friend. The hug scene at the end, honestly, is to show that Wednesday is trusting her, thanking her for saving them even if she was in a losing battle. Since the entire show, she barely trusts anyone and only one person, which was Tyler. But I still don't get how anyone can romanticize a hug scene. Not in a romantic way because wtf is romantic about a hug?

Exactly, small subtle things Tyler did too, like their date, he made sure to get black everything, even picking out a movie he knew she'd think is horrific. Like you said, he went along with everything she liked, never told her to fully change like Enid or Xavier. He told her to make up her mind about what she wanted. Not to change.

I never liked Joel, but he wasn't the worst. And again, everyone and their moms love Joel. I don't understand how they hate Tyler when Tyler is just as sweet and a normie boy until the end when the reveal is shown. But it makes Tyler better. A Hyde would fit perfectly with the Addams especially one as fucked up and tortured as Tyler. Morticia & Gomez seem like the perfect two to understand what he went through, and they seem like they'd be very understanding. To maybe help him through the mental part of being without a master since Faulkner's Journal said hydes will go insane without a master. Repeating what happened with Fran.

Exactly even the way Wednesday goes about it (yes, she does call him names or says some lines to try and irritate him. But she still knows what Laurel did. Even saw it in her vision, what she did to control him. I hope it wasn't sexually but it is hinted at that it indeed was physically, mentally/emotionally manipulated, and sexual torture. What pissed me off is that people don't even bother to think about the scenes he's in or EVEN THE DAMN TORTURE SCENE. THE SHOW GIVES US. They just ignore the fact that Tyler was emotionally manipulated by the thought of his mother, injected with poisons, and beaten down while chained up to a cave wall in the middle of the woods. Like he's a teenage boy! What the actual fuck?! And yet people call him a villain. The first thing I caught in the police station was Tyler's tears. And when you actually listen to his words, it's absolutely heartbreaking. Apparently people with only two brain cells can call this kid evil. When literally the show itself showed them multiple ways of how this kid is a fuckin victim! Even hinted at during the Rave'n & in Faulkner's diary. He looked uncomfortable when he was left alone with Laurel, and in the diary, it literally spells it out in words that hydes have to be tortured and manipulated to obey their master But I feel like that's the only way Faulkner tried. Apparently, they need it shot scene to scene in front of them because they can't just actually watch the show..

Honestly, I feel like wenclairs & Tyler haters didn't even watch the show or pay attention.

Honestly, people can ship what they want. I would never force petroclair on someone. I just see them as too wholesome and that's probably why people don't like them.

Yes, I get where you're coming from with Bianca and Lucas. I don't think they are dating at the end of the show. But if they do end up together, it better be something other than their both black. I think they could work just because Lucas only seems comfortable with two outcasts, Enid and Bianca. But they better show us how they could be good together and not just skip over them.

Wait, Bianca showed him the hideout? Did I miss that? Sorry it's been a long while since I rewatched Wednesday. I didn't think they were together in this season.

I mean I also would be perfectly fine with Bianca being independent and not wanting to date after Xavier because Xavier is the worst type of person, accusing her of using her song on him and fighting with her then when he's all depressed at the Rave'n he asks her to use her song on him like wtff. I could see why that one experience could push her away from dating. And I wouldn't mind Lucas just focusing on his fathers death or just not in the mindset to date. But I can somewhat see him with Enid. Like, he's my number 2 for Enid if Ajax wasn't a character.

Hell, some people ship Wednesday & and Bianca, which honestly it makes a bit more sense than wenclair, but again, they are both stubborn, and I feel like Bianca needs someone who's open emotionally. Needs someone to reassure her that she's not like her mother and her friends and her partner aren't with her just because of her siren song. Wednesday again doesn't fit that. Because she's not emotionally open to anyone. But I'd rather have Bianca be alone or with someone she actually makes sense with, someone that won't treat her like absolute garbage like Xavier did. Wenclay just doesn't fit as well for me because, again, both stubborn and someone is going to have to change. I like the rival/friends thing going on, and I'm glad the show gave Wednesday so many friends even if they don't fully like her or if they stem souly from Enid.

Can we talk about how Wednesday was in the most none triangle love triangle ever? Like, Wednesday and Tyler were doing their own thing meanwhile Xavier was just kind of there. Now if Wednesday liked Xavier too that would be a proper triangle, but that’s not what played out. She was always upfront with him that she was there for Tyler. He was just guy on the side who had a thing for a girl who’s into someone else. It was never a triangle. It almost confuses why anyone calls it a triangle at all.

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sapphicambitions · 4 years ago

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reggie/luke or alex/luke

This is a Juke Blog, babey!

#lesbianlaynie #Laynie rose answers #the way this fandom wants so bad to erase julie to ship the white boys together lmao #miss me with that shit #julie and Luke are soul mates #and there’s a conversation to be had that Milo and I have talked about a lot about how fandom won’t let queer men have guy friends #without sexualizing or romanticizing it and I think that’s what happeneing with everyone trying to ship the jatp boys #I get that in shows where there is no queer content we have to look for gay subtext but this show has queer rep and it’s fantastic #you can let the boys just be brothers and friends they don’t need to be dating each other #stop erasing julie. stop erasing Willie. stop erasing the canon relationships with people of color to ship the white boys together #sorry if it seems like I’m having a strong reaction to this it’s because I’m having a strong reaction to this

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intimidatedbyprimenumbers · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on the Denver J2 Gold Panel, having now watched it, rewatched it, and had time to process it:

The J2 panel had a lot of people upset, which is so totally understandable and justified. However, that anger shouldn’t be directed at Jensen, in my opinion.

Jensen did not say that it wasn’t a romantic love, nor did he say it wasn’t a sexual love. He said that Dean did not know it was a romantic love until the end.

He never said how Dean felt about it being a romantic love.

He never said how Dean felt about Cas.

He never said that Cas couldn’t love romantically or sexually.

He did say that lust isn’t involved in romanticism. He’s right. You can have lustful feelings for someone without having any feelings for them at all, and romance does not need to include lustful feelings. If you think that, you are excluding all the people that identify different romantically from their sexual identities (such as those who identify as heterosexual but biromantic, homosexual but heteroromantic, etc.)

However, that wasn’t even his whole thought. He was interrupted by Jared before he had even finished his sentence. This happened more than once. He got to express one full thought in the J2 panel about this topic – which was that the love Cas had was more than simple terms like “romantic” or “sexual” could describe. It went deeper.

His statement about being able to interpret characters differently is also right. Everyone comes to a character differently. What I see, how I feel, and what I take away from the character of Dean is not going to be the same thing you do. Everyone takes different pieces away from a character, finds a different meaning in things that are said or actions that are taken.

There’s a reason “Death of the Author” is one of the beliefs I fully subscribe to – it doesn’t matter what was intended by a writer (or an actor). What matters is the meaning you take from the books, movie, show, character, etc. What matters is your interpretation of these things.

The writers who, for example, try to claim that Dean isn’t bisexual. However, my interpretation of his character is that he’s for sure bisexual, even if he’s deeply in denial about it. The writers can fuck off when they try to claim he’s straight, in my opinion.

Furthermore, I read a beautiful post from thetiredstuff on Tumblr that pointed out how Jensen mentions “interpretation” every time the subject of Cas and Dean are brought up and how that might be something he was told to do by the CW/WB. If he’s contractually bound, he’s contractually bound, and we can all be pissed at the CW/WB about that. Not at Jensen.

But really, he didn’t make the fucking horrible comments at the panel.

No – that was all Jared. Jared was the one that compared homosexuality (and being non-binary) to incent. Jared was the one who made a comment regarding Cas being “junkless” – an invalidating point of view, as what parts a person has or does not have doesn’t matter when it comes to how that person feels, that is hidden behind a callback from a line in the show. It was Jared who dismissed the idea of love as anything important by saying that “you can love anything” and went on to describe physical abuse before using an example of gifting money – both toxic examples that don’t represent the important, deep connection that love really is. His views and the words he chose to use during his tirade about a scene he had no part in were actually very disturbing to me.

However, his views on the scene itself don’t fucking matter (in regard to the meaning of the scene.) I’ll repeat what I said above about it: a scene he had no part in. He did not help write the scene. He did not help brainstorm. He did not have a part in that scene. At all. Who is he to tell us what the point of that scene was about? Who is he to tell us what Castiel meant by “I love you, Dean”?

His opinion on this is just that. An opinion – a narrowminded, homophobic, transphobic, and disgustingly worded opinion.

So, for me, I am ignoring what he has to say on this subject.

I will instead be taking what Jensen had to say, when able to get an actual full thought in, which is that Cas’ love was something indescribable – something that was just more.

I'll say it's...

It’s profound.

Edit: My comment regarding ignoring Jared is more toward his "authority" on the topic - not the views he's expressed nor the words he chose to use, which were inexcusable.

#supernatural #spn #jensen ackles #jared paladecki #jensen and jared #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #denver con 2021 #j2 panel

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the-wayside · 3 years ago

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Part 4 - Porsche is an angel and deserves only love and cuddles (formal title: Anatomy of Episode 5 - the aftermath)

Oh my sweet angel. If I could just wrap you in bubble wrap and drop kick everyone in the Theerapanyakul family, I would.

This episode really puts through Porsche through the ringer because yes, he is dealing with the very painful acknowledgement that Kinn had sex with him when he wasn't in his right mind, but that's not the only issue with the event. We love layers *cries in the corner in onion*.

He is deeply conflicted and being torn in 6 different ways with multiple axis and very distinct sides to it. One, where his choices taken from him, two, what was (from what we can tell) a pleasurable experience, three, the question of his sexuality, four, the imposed silence and resultant shame and five, the degradation of being punished (victim blaming).

That...is a whole lot to be going on with.

We start the episode and Porsche doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to put a name to the night in the hopes it will just go away ("I'm not that weak"). He's so drained that he just stands there and let's the water hopefully wash away not only what happened with Kinn but prior to it with Vegas.

The punishment, such as it was, forces the event back into Porsche's mind. Compounds this is your fault, you shouldn't have done this - and something I do want to touch on - is that Porsche drinking the drink was not his fault, but it wasn't Kinn's either. It was an accident of happenstance. I say this because people leveled this as Kinn's fault, he didn't know the drink was drugged. He didn't know Porsche was looking at him for some sort of approval. I bring this up because I also discussed in part 2 about how this punishment isn't solely for Porsche. I would argue it isn't about Porsche at all. This punishment is about Kinn and correct his behavior so as to not lose the respect and loyalty of his guards who do not like Porsche having such a high favor with Kinn.

Porsche is incredibly isolated because he can't, won't, speak about what happened to him. I also don't think he even knows how to articulate what it is that happened to him. What's interesting to me is that in his recollection of events, his memory is focused on his experience, his actions for the most part. I also wonder if there is some misattributing and imperfect recall to his memory, common in stress responses, because the shot of Kinn's trousers coming off is different. In ep 4, Porsche takes them off, in ep 5, Kinn reaches for his trousers.

Again, please do not take this as victim blaming, it is a proven fact that memory is an imperfect thing and people can and do remember events differently to others. My point is, does it mean anything? If Kinn is the sober one does that mean his version of events are "true" or is it a romanticized version of what happened? Or is it both?

Porsche's bathroom breakdown is the most visual representation of toxic masculinity I've seen in awhile. He cannot and refuses to share with information with Pete, a man he would otherwise consider his friend, because what? He thinks Pete is more loyal to Kinn and Khun? Or because he thinks Pete will look down on him for getting himself into that "situation"? It's a hugely layered scene and Apo just ate it up.

I mentioned in part one the disassociation of that scene and it is so well done. Porsche starts off in his slacks and by the end is in his underwear without any real explanation as to how. He is so overwhelmed by what it all means: did I like it? Should I have not liked it? I really don't think Porsche is conflicted about whether it should have happened or not. He knows it shouldn't have and that had he been sober there is a 98% chance it wouldn't have. So something else is driving it. It's that it did and he is trying to understand how this all fits into his understanding of himself. He is different now. He isn't Porsche of yesterday morning. It is understandably terrifying and confusing on top of the obvious implications.

And to make matters worse, Kinn...well he's reverted to form. He touched Porsche in such a way and now here he is, fixing to have a night of fun with someone else. How used must Porsche feel. He is having a full scale breakdown and Kinn is like, wow is that the time? Must be Friday night, funsies!

He is being told right in front of his face: you don't matter. Your pain, your issues, your conflict don't matter. You're a warm body and I'm done with you.

So it's no wonder he wants to get back to some semblance of himself with a gorgeous leggy blonde, decidedly nothing like Kinn. Except Porsche is pulled back into that night and how he felt. His actions with the lovely blonde directly correlate to his actions with Kinn. He can't touch her because he can't forget being touched. He didn't want it but he can't forget it.

Enter challenger, Vegas. Bruh, I have my eyes firmly set on your fine ass. But he gets a pass because he provides Porsche with the one thing he needs: escapism. To not think, to not have what happened drilled into his skull. I see you, you sexy toxic motherfucker. I see you. Vegas is exploitative af because he had to know even without the events of that late night, Porsche would have been off because of what he did. You cute, but sus. I get that you think Porsche is cute now too but stay away. Just stay away from all Theerapanyakul bodyguards.

Porsche's return shows that his ride with Vegas has bolstered him. He isn't on the back foot with Kinn now. He has regained a piece of himself. My punching fists moment was when Porsche questioned (told) Kinn about the pain he caused. You 100% do not get to decide whether you hurt someone. He needed to hear it. But Kinn is in his "I must control everything" phase so Porsche double dog dares him. Own me? Come at me, bitch. I'll bite you a second time. It is somewhat intentionally careless. What more can you do to me? Take my life? You've had my body so lessgo. Kinn is trying to set boundaries but so is Porsche. You took something from me but you can't have anything else. I will fight you to the death if you try. We see him slowly re-emerge, changed, but still ballsy and ready to defend his rights. Kinn doesn't know what to do because Porsche was and is a wild card. Good. Suffer.

His fire continues with papa Korn who is playing both sides like an award winning violinist. Oh my son punished you, how's about you go home collect yourself and come back. He realizes he's losing Porsche and is trying to placate him. Beautiful montage ensues before Kinn enters the lion's den.

Porsche remains understandably combative. Kinn needs to work infinitely harder if he wants to bring down Porsche's wall. It's interesting to me that Porsche says, you never care about me rather than you assaulted me. The emphasis readjusts onto you used me, you left me there, you degraded me. You turned me into one of your whores.

This is where I know we're going to get a lot of flack in the fandom that Porsche forgives too quickly and it doesn't give what happened enough gravitas but that was never the purpose of what happened. And, you know, I watched the BTS and I trust Apo and Mile. Apo joked about the scene in ep 4 and I don't believe for one second that he would joke about enduring trauma. He is a very articulate and knowledgeable person. He knows his character better than anyone and he wouldn't jeopardize that for anything. So, I would draw the conclusion that the framing of the events of ep 4 isn't driven by the dubcon/noncon element but the character/narrative driven progression. Does it make it any better? No. But it tells me where I need to focus my attention. We can flog that horse but things are what they are and if it becomes too much then we need to curate our own experiences.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #text #kp meta analysis #scheduled

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voxmortuus · 4 years ago

Text

Stalking Target | Part 3

PAIRING: Stalker!Hannibal x F!Reader

UNIVERSE: Hannibal

CHAPTERS: Part 1 | Part 2

WORDS: 1k

SUMMARY/PROMPT: So this started out as an anon request, Original Anon Prompt Request: Could I have a Hannibal x reader where he stalks the reader as he finds them interesting, but during the day reader avoids him at all costs bc he makes them feel small. The reader sees him one night and pretends not to know, the next day was an off day and they decide to leave the house but when they come back in the dead of night, Hannibal is there. Whatever happens next is up to you 🤗 thank you very much if you write this!!!!!!

NOTE: I do not condone rape, I know rape can be romanticized, that is your own doing. If you ever encounter this please contact the Sexual Assult Telephone Hotline. Please understand this is a fanfiction, think of it like Hollywood. Also, I'm sorry if this is horrible..... This was not supposed to go past the first one, but you asked and I delivered... here is part three upon request

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist | Taglist

REQUESTS: OPEN

It's been going on four months, hostage, kept away from everyone, kept away from work, kept away from contact with just about everyone. Why? Why was he doing this? He wanted you to carry his unborn child. He wanted you to parent his unborn child! What the fuck was wrong with him?! Locked away, He did all the shopping, you weren't allowed outside, you weren't allowed to do much of anything. You were a prisoner in what he would tell me is my new home.

You pull your knees close to your chest, in the corner of this bedroom, your bedroom. Hannibal looks you over and smiles a sincere smile.

"Look at you! You're glowing." He smiled, approaching you; he grabs your arm and stands you up. Looking over your face, he smiles and places his hand on your belly. "You're doing so well. Seeing you like this, I can't resist the urge... such primal needs. They course through my veins." He growls.

You begin to sob, shaking your head. "No, please, please no." You plead. You being to cry. You don't want this, but you try to fight as he forces you to bend over the bed, placing your top half on the bed. He lifts your skirt and- without any warning or hesitation shoves his stiff member into you, rubbing your belly as he began to thrust.

You cry and whimper and try to fight him, but you know what happens when you do. Your bruised lip, bruised wrists, and chained ankle were subject to that. Then it hit you; maybe if you cooperate with him, he will let you roam like he talked about before. Biting your lip, you close your eyes, letting him take what he wanted. Waiting for it to be over.

The more he thrust, the more you disconnected, the more you went to your happy place, the more you thought about being outside. He brought you to this isolated piece of land, with a large rose garden in the back. Since being here, mentally, that was your happy place.

With a groan and a final thrust, he fixes your dress and smiles softly. "Good girl, maybe, we'll go out to the garden. I've noticed you've been looking it over. Perhaps we will have dinner out there." He smiled.

You simply nod, looking down at yourself as you feel his warm wetness dripping down your leg, you being to cry. Letting out a shaky breath, he brings you to the bathroom. Stripping you down, he lifts you into the tub and begins to fill it. The warm water feels delightful. You close your eyes and let out a soft breath as he begins to wash you. Your jaw clenches, your nostrils flare, and your mind trembles in its own way.

Pushing this whole thing out of your head, the next thing you know, he has his hands between your legs. You grab his wrist and smash his face off the side of the tub. You used all of your might, and he fell to the ground. Blood started to pool inside the tub and outside at the foot of the tub. Laying there, you watch a moment, but he doesn't move. Getting up and out of the tub, you grab the robe, wrapping it around yourself, and begin to look around.

Making your way downstairs, you run to the kitchen and realize that the kitchen knives are all locked away. Slamming your hands on the counter, you look to the left and shake your head. "Stupid." You grab the corkscrew and take off outside.

Suddenly the cloudy sky started to rain. You look up and begin to cry. "Thank you, I cry with you. My body will return to you. My body will be yours soon. I will see you soon." You whisper.

Looking around, you make your way to your favorite spot in the garden. Sitting on the ground, you look up, and you begin to cry as you take the corkscrew and slice your arm, running from wrist to elbow. Deep as you could go, you drop the corkscrew by your side. The blood rushing from your arms, pooling in your palms and on the ground.

It felt like an eternity. You began to feel cold. Looking down at your belly, you feel the movement pick up. You look up, and you begin to close your eyes. Your breathing slows down.

"NO, NO, NO NO!" You hear from the distance.

Your heart slows down. This feeling of cold washes over you even more. Your eyes close, wet, bleeding, and your breath is almost gone. Your head rests against the stone wall, roses around you, beautiful red roses, the ground stained with blood.

You blink. Your eyes are blurry, so you try to sit up, hoping that maybe that will help. You hear a voice but can't quite make out what it is saying, but you keep trying to sit up anyway. You look left and look right, and you let out a soft groan. You rub your eyes and try to sit up again. Looking at your feet, you see both are chained to your bed.

Growling, you look around, and finally, your vision comes into itself when you see Hannibal sitting there, looking at you from the corner chair.

"You have lost all privilages."

"What priviliages! I'm a fuckin prisoner!"

"You have lost the pleasure of using the bathroom on your own, shower--"

"YOU DON'T EVEN LET ME DO THAT ALONE! I AM A FUCKIN PRISONER! MY LIFE MEANS NOTHING TO YOU!"

"That is purely not true." He stands up and makes his way to you. He places his hand on your stomach and looks over you. "You're life means everything to me." He smiles such a sinister smile.

You attempt to push his hand away, and look at your wrists and let out a soft growl. "Leave me alone, Hannibal. GET OUT!" you scream as you begin to softly cry.

He looks you over and walks out of the room. Closing the door behind him you look out the window, out over the garden, letting out a soft breath, wiping your eyes. Looking down at your stomach. Your mind races, are you going to hate this child, take it and run, or give it up and never look back on this moment ever?

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dylanobrienisbatman · 4 years ago

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The main problem with the whole mal vs the darkling thing in regards to being possessive (or really when it comes to any of their traits) is the fact that throughout, the darkling is clearly framed as the villain and his actions reflect that, whereas Mal as supposed to be the good guy and best romantic partner for Alina, and yet he has all these awful character traits and tendencies. So its less about how awful the Bad Guy is (since he's supposed to be), and more about how awful the person that we're supposed to believe is the best option for Alina is. I don't ship either, just my two cents.

Okay well... two things. First, your comment about "its less about how awful the bad guy is, since he's supposed to be", takes every comment I've made about Darkles out of context, which seems fitting since everything Darklina's spout about Mal is out of context. Him being the Bad Guy is fine, and if you like him AS A VILLAIN, and acknowledge all the bad shit he does, then my posts aren't for you. I think he's a very interesting villain, and a lot of the terrible shit he does that I have to keep making posts about make him a good villain, the problem is when the terrible shit the "Bad Guy" does is romanticized and viewed as the reasons why Alina SHOULD have picked him. So, don't assume everyone gets that "hes supposed to be awful". The point my post was making is that Darklina's love to call Mal possessive, but then turn around and act like Darkles literally enslaving her in somehow sexy and romantic. It's fucking not, and it's transparent as hell that y'all romanticize and sexualize the actually possessive character, and then project false character traits onto Mal. It's so transparent, it's almost funny.

But, more importantly, to your second, very wrong point, I wonder how much of the narrative about Mal having "awful character traits and tendencies" is actually a commentary on Mal as a character, or is it just Darklina's lying about things Mal has done and everyone accepting that misinterpretation as canon. Because, if were making a list...

Fuck boy - False! Mal was not a fuck boy! He was an attractive teenager who hooked up with consenting girls his age when he could, and he was not in a relationship during that time. Alina had never told him how she felt, so he is not beholden to her. (Also, nobody seems to have an issue with the fact that Darkles hooked up with Zoya in the show, that doesn't make HIM a fuckboy... interesting) (also also, nobody seems to discuss Darkles literally sexually assaulting Alina, and lying and manipulating her to get her to be physically intimate with him so he can use her... double interesting).

Slut Shames Alina - FALSE! The ever favourite callout line from Darklina's "He's all over you" isn't him slut shaming her. First, he has no idea what their relationship is like at that point, but more importantly, he is making an observation of her status in the little palace and how she has become his tool. He has dressed her up in his colors, made her put on a show for his benefit, and has created a situation where Alina appears to be his. Mal is noting that after months of searching for her, believing she was being hurt, tortured, or worse, when he arrives to save her, she looks like the Darkling's pet. (and, even if he WAS angry because he perceived them to be romantically involved, boy just spent months fighting for his life, lost multiple friends, and almost died to find her, all while coming to the realisation that he was in love with her, and then he shows up, after not hearing from her for months... I'd be pissed as hell too.) Important Note: He even acknowledges that what he said was wrong and tries to apologise, before Alina tells him that he was right. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 286). He also then apologizes, completely unprompted, for what he said. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 297).

Fat Shames Alina - False! This one is particularly laughable to me, because its one of the Darklina arguments that falls apart the second you actually read the scene. They are running for their lives in the forest, and Mal has to hunt and gather to feed them. He is noting that Alina's appetite has increased since he last saw her, and he makes a joke (ya know, how you do with friends) about how it would be easier to keep her fed if she still had her more meager appetite from before. He makes no comment on her weight, or her size, and he is not actually commenting on her appetite in a negative way, he is just acknowledging that it's a lot more work for him now that she eats more. Right before he says the line, the quote even proves that he isn't shaming her or thinking badly of her: "With a bemused expression, he watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still hungry". He is noting a change in her, and complaining that its made more work for him. If you think thats the same as fat shaming, well... thats a you problem.

Hates Alina's Powers - FALSE!!!! How to begin... do we talk about it was Mal's idea to hunt the stag in S&B, because he knew she needed it to be more powerful so she could stop the darkling? Do we talk about how he vowed to find the firebird for her, even though he was terrified of what all that power would do to her? Do we talk about how he literally died so she could achieve the power she needed to save the world? Or maybe we could talk about how he believed in her power more than anyone else, like when everyone was making bets about her abilities with the Cut and he knew she'd go further and better than anyone else expected her too, or when he tells her that he was never afraid of her powers, only what seeking all that power would do to her (which is literally the theme of the books, that power corrupts and seeking unmatched power can destroy you)? Mal being afraid of what is going to happen to Alina, being protective of her and worrying over her, is not the same as him hating her powers. He exists to help remind Alina of the themes of the story, and to guide her into maintaining her humanity.

Abusive - ... Do I even need to explain this one? Must I deign an explanation as to why this favourite Darklina lie is so fucking stupid, and also totally hypocrisy? No? Because we all know Darkles is actually the abusive one and they're trying to project their own shit onto Mal to further their abuse apologist agenda? Cool. Moving on.

Possessive of Alina - False! Throughout the entire series, Mal is quite literally the opposite of possessive, but yall just cant read. Not only does he quite literally step out of the way and allow Nikolai to court Alina without argument, which is the most direct example of him not being possessive, he also spends two full books believing, and repeatedly saying over and over and over, that they can't be together because he is not good enough for her. Mal believes, fully, that Alina deserves more than him, better than him, because he's just a tracker and a soldier, just a regular man with nothing to offer her but his love and his protection, and she is a Saint and should be a Queen. Possessiveness is the wish to own and control someone, it is literally the opposite of Mal believing that he's not good enough and doing everything he can to ensure that Alina achieves everything and gets everything he believes she is owed. A possessive character would not tell her to tell him to leave because he has nothing he can offer her, no title or land or country or crown. A possessive character would not promise to be the blade in her hand, because he believed he had nothing but the blood he could spill to offer her.

Angry - True! Yeah, omg, you caught us, Mal is ANGRY! Heaven forbid a teenager who is traumatized beyond belief and has to give up everything in his life, his position in the military (he deserted for her), his friends and the job he loved (Mikhail and Dubrov died for him, and he can't be a tracker in the army... because he deserted... for Alina), and, most importantly, he has to give up Alina (she should be Queen, he believes, and he has to give up the future he imagined with the girl he loves, who he was pretty sure loved him back, because she's a saint and queen and he's just a man), and more, is ANGRY. He has to be the one to find the amplifiers that he knows will end up hurting her, because thats what she needs to save the world. He has to sit by while Nikolai treats him like the dirt on his shoe and tries to woo Alina for his own personal gain (because Nikoalai did not love Alina. Maybe he came to care for her, but he proposed and spent all of S&S trying to get her to marry him when it was obvious they were not in love. He straight up says its so that the next King of Ravka can be married to the Sun Summoner. It's a power grab.) and he can't do anything about it. So yeah, Mal is angry. And yeah, sometimes he's even angry at Alina, just like sometimes she's angry at him. But they always find their way back, always apologize and try to be better for each other, and if you think anger is a toxic trait, and not simply a natural human emotion, might I suggest touching some fucking grass?

Idk why you thought I'd stand for Mal slander on my blog, cuz I will not. So, I'm gonna stop there, because I have shit to do today, but I really do wonder how much of Mal's 'toxic' or 'terrible' traits, that make him such a 'bad' love interest for Alina, really comes from Darklina's who refuse to actually read the text critically at all, and instead take everything he does and says out of context to further their agenda that Alina should have ended up as the Darkling's fucking slave forever, because thats the "girl power feminist" ending somehow. Mal supports her, loves her, sacrifices for her at every turn, and does everything he can do, to the point of literally dying for her, to ensure that she can defeat Darkles and save the world. He protects her, and when they end up happy and safe together on the orphange that they've rebuilt to help the children that were victims of Darkles war and genocide, he spends his days bringing her tea and cakes and flowers, kissing her silly under the stairs in the view of all the teachers, and calling her names like beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart for the rest of their ordinary life together, if love can ever be called that.

#Malina #anti darklina #malyen oretsev #mal oretsev #shadow and bone #if yall could just learn to fucking read... i am begging you

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romana-after-dark · 3 months ago

Text

Rooms on Fire: Everything We Lost In The Fire

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Extra warnings for chapter: Violence

2.2k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up! Also I am sick so sorry if the writing is mid lololol im trying.

"We don't have to wait for anyone to follow Burn all the yesterdays, give us our tomorrow Love is like a flame in our desire We'll have to sacrifice everything we lost in the fire." ~Everything We Lost in the Fire, Blue October

Wrapped up in Will’s arms, you try to focus on Francisco’s kisses, not the fact Will’s hands were on your breast, Ben’s mouth was on your cunt, or Santi’s body was incassing Francisco.

It had been nearly 3 weeks since Rey’s body was burned, and you were expected to pretend like nothing was happening. Pretend that after your baby is born, Santi won’t have you and Iris killed. Well, definitely Iris. Will had a way of convincing Santiago to follow his lead, and Will still seemed to love you… but Iris was certainly dead. It was probably Francisco and Will who convinced Santi not to kill her after the fire incident, that more stress would surely trigger something in your pregnancy… That was all Santiago cared about. Not you, definitely not Iris. Just the savior…

You wonder if he believes in the savior. You wonder if you even believe in the savior… You didn’t know what you believed, honestly.

Francisco’s tongue explored your mouth for the 100th time, and you tried to find solace in him but it was growing harder and harder as time went on. You felt alone, you felt like Iris was the only one who actually understood what you were going through. Sometimes, when your husbands were asleep, you’d sneak out to the servants quarters. You’d try not to think about Rey or Jonah’s rooms as you passed them, softly knocking on Iris’s door. She’d tell you to come in, and you’d find her in bed, usually crying.

Carefully, you crawl into bed with her, and just lay there. Sometimes you cry with her. Sometimes she holds you. Rarely, you talk. Iris would answer questions you had, truth of the attempted revolt as she knew it, Jonah’s affair with Delilah, Beatriz's murder, Jonah dancing at your fathers death. You knew you should hate Jonah, but something inside you continued that attachment. It wasn’t right, he’d tried to rape you, but it was so out of character for him… your brain struggled to make sense of these two versions of Jonah.

After a few hours, you get up and go back to bed with Will or Francisco. You weren’t allowed to be alone with Iris during the day anymore, so you spent most of your time with one of your husbands, and occasionally a guard. None of them were like Rey. They’d all seen him burned, his body beaten and slaughtered. No one wanted to be your friend.

You try to pretend it’s Francisco’s hands on you, you try to block out everything but him, but of course you aren’t that lucky.

Santiago grabs Francisco’s hair, yanking his mouth away from you and to his own lips, kissing him deeply and making Francisco melt in little moans. You can’t help the pang of jealousy that flares up around you. Benny notices too, pulling his lips away from between your legs and planting a sloppy kiss on Francisco’s asscheek, kissing his way to your lover's crack. Soon, you are all but forgotten as Santiago and Ben fight for Franisco’s pleasure.

Ben’s tongue is buried in Francisco’s ass, prodding deep inside the tight hole you’d fucked as well, making Francisco whine and buck as Santiago jerked him off, bringing him to orgasm. Francisco’s seed spilled out onto the sheets, white and sticky rope after rope as Francisco whimpered and moaned.

Will’s body was firm against you, holding you close with one hand touching your body, the other fingering you and picking you up where Ben left you forgotten.

You watch as Ben goes straight from ass to mouth, kissing Francisco hard and pulling him by his chubby cheeks away from Santiago. A battle for Francisco’s affection insured, the two men kissing Francisco every which way as Will brought you to orgasm with his fingers reaching around your large stomach.

“Look at our husbands, Madonna.” He murmurs softly in your ear, so soft you can’t help fall into him just a little. “Look how beautiful they are.”

And they were. Objectively, they were all beautiful, sculpted with perfect bodies and handsome features and so utterly obsessed with each other, the clawing at each others skin and biting of their lips didn’t matter. You watch as Santiago draws blood from Ben’s shoulder, a sharp reminder of his position without going too far to invoke Will’s wrath. Francisco clawing his nails down Santiago’s back. Ben edging Santiago’s cock but stopping him as the base, right before climax. You see the matching cuts on Francisco and Santiago’s arms.

They were beautiful. But you couldn’t see their beauty.

You saw Will, who killed Jonah. Jonah, who yes did something terrible to you but was still a father to you. Will, who controlled your every move, who made allowances for Santiago’s behavior again and again and again, who knew what Ben did to Iris but did nothing.

You saw Ben, a rapist who impregnated Iris, who killed Rey.

You saw Santiago, a psychopath who raped and burned you while pregnant, who was responsible for the distruction of so many lives here.

And Francisco, who let it all happen.

You fell asleep that night in Francisco's arms, the other retiring to their rooms. You slept with Frankie most nights, Santiago surely letting it go for now until he no longer needed you. What were these last 2 months when he could have an eternity with Francisco? You were deep in sleep, dreaming when something began to wake you. A hand on your mouth. You were certain it was the incubus again, you try to scream but the hand over your mouth is clamped on tight. You open your eyes to see Jonah’s face.

All attempts to scream, to move are fruitless as you wake up, writhing but you are held tightly around the waist, large hands holding down both of your own. Jonah -or the incubus taking his form- didn’t attempt to touch you, instead when you locked eyes with him they were wide with worry. Tired, dark bags under his eyes. You look down. It’s Francisco’s hands that are holding you.

Your body stills, tears forming in your eyes from fear and anger and confusion. Jonah isn’t dead.

Slowly, Francisco’s hand is removed from your mouth to let out a whimper as you turn around to see him. “What’s happening?” You cry to your husband, his soft face looking as scared as you are.

“We’re leaving.” He helps you sit up in the bed, then gets up, getting dressed in the light of the candle.

“No.” You shake your head, inching away from Jonah. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Your voice is quiet, cracking with emotion as you try to wrap your head around it all.

Iris’s voice speaks as she lights a candle now, revealing her face in the dark room. “It’s okay, trust me.” She uses your real name.

“But… but he… he tried too…” You couldn’t say the words.

Jonah was knelt at your bed, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what i did honey. It was wrong. But please… I need you to know I would never, ever have violated you… it doesn’t make what happened any better but… I need you to know how it really happened.”

Shaking in bed, you look to Iris, the only face here you could trust for truth. “Just hear him out. I won’t tell you how to feel.”

Francisco gently tugged you out of bed, dressing you in warm clothing and putting socks and shoes on as Jonah told you what happened. He explained how Will made him a deal, a chance to get Iris out. How Will gave permission to rape you, but he swore up and down he’d kill himself before he took it that far, that he would never have touched you or hurt you, he just needed to scare you.

You couldn’t process this. Will was… Will. You didn’t trust him, but Will protected you! He’d never let someone hurt you to scare a lesson into you!

“No…” You say as Francisco ties your shoes. “No he wouldn’t let someone hurt me… he took a bullet for me!”

Iris shushed you harshly, but Jonah shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Melody was trying to kill Ben because he raped her. Honey…” He sighed. “Iris… she told me about the “incubus…” I thought you knew…”

You blink. “Knew what?”

“Will. He was coming into your room every night… I didn’t- Rey and I thought… we didn’t think he was doing it when you slept. I’m sorry.”

No. No, Will wouldn’t do that. Will wouldn’t take you while you were sleeping! Why would he do that when you were available to him all day every day? You remembered what Santiago said, that if the baby came out with blonde hair, there’d be a problem… When trying to conceive, Francisco was barely talking to you, and Santiago was angry at you the first time you didn’t end up pregnant… you were fill most days by the Miller brothers multiple times…

This baby was likely one of theirs.

“Madonna…” Francisco whispers wrapping his arm around your middle. “We have to go. We’re getting you and Iris out.”

Down the halls, you sneak, the four of you walking as quietly as possible and navigating where guards are posted, where the floors creak and moan the most, and how to avoid Ben or Santiago or Will.

Your heart was beating a million times a minute, your skin on fire with fear, holding your belly. You needed to be brave. This was no life for your baby to grow up in, Santiago was not a parent to raise a child…

For the first time, you realize why your dad was willing to tear everything he knew apart to make a better life for you.

“This way.” Francisco motions, but Jonah stops, making you and Iris stop too.

Jonah whispers. “You said we were going this way? That way is past Ben’s room.”

“There was a change in the guards, Will has them all posted along that side now.”

“And you just now thought to tell me?”

“C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Jonah follows Francisco down the hall, right to Ben’s room where he stops.

“...Frank…”

But Francisco lingers on the door, hand brushing against the wood.

“Frankie, don’t.” Iris pleads, but you are frozen. Jonah grabs Iris, telling you to follow him but you’re frozen in place. He doesn’t see you not following, or he doesn’t care. His priority is Iris, and you can’t blame him for that. You watch in horror as Francisco knocks on the door, and Ben answers with a wide grin.

“Should’ve known you’d come knocking, baby…” He pulls him in for a kiss, pulling his pouty lower lips between his teeth but stopping when he saw you.

“Why is she here?” he says with disdain. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. He was supposed to love you. He could be the father of your baby… He’s the father of Iris’s baby you remind yourself.

“Benny, Benny I need you to listen to me, okay?” Francisco pleads, his hands pawing at Benny’s baby face, begging for attention, for understanding and suddenly you know what he’s doing.

“Francisco…” You mutter, disappointment clawing at your throat, but both men ignored you.

“Frankie, what's going on?” Ben’s voice was soft and worried, that tender tone he only ever used on Francisco. He half chuckles, and it’s a nervous sound. “You’re scaring me here…”

A soft kiss to his lips. “We need to leave, okay? We gotta get Madonna out of here… she can’t be with Santi, he’s crazy, he’ll kill her.”

Ben shakes his head, laughing lightly in disbelief. “No way, man. We have a duty here. The savior, Santi-”

“FUCK Santi, Ben, I-” Francisco’s voice crack, holding Ben against the wall, his plush lips trailing the younger man’s skin. “Benny, please, I love you, I love you so fucking much. We don’t need him, we can just leave, we can start a new life… Jonah and Iris are leaving, we’ll be far away with Madonna long before anyone knows we’re gone… We don’t need anyone else, we only need each other… Please, please, please, just… come with me…”

Ben searched his face, blue eyes shining. He touched Francisco’s face with such tenderness you didn’t think possible from the hurricane of a man. Ben with Francisco was a totally different man.

But he was still loyal to Santiago above all else.

“Frankie, let’s just go talk to Santi-”

“No, Ben-”

“We’ll work this out, get Iris and Jonah back”

No, no they can’t have her. They can’t fucking touch Iris.

But Francisco just nods, closing his eyes. “Okay. Okay yeah, we’ll make this right.”

“Francisco!” You are once again ignored.

Francisco closes in on Ben, caging him against the wall as he kisses him. “We’ll be together, right? After the savior is born, we can be together…”

“Yeah baby.” Ben kisses him back, arms wrapped around his thick middle. “Just you and me. We don’t need no one else.”

Francisco raises his hand to Ben’s neck and you think he’s going to caress his face… but then Ben’s movements halt to a stop. Then, a slow jerking of his body, and Francisco whispering, ��I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Benny’

Blood trickled down his arm, and as Francisco pulled away you see that Francisco slit his throat. He slowly lowers his lover’s heavy frame to the ground, the younger man’s body still jolting and a gagging, gurgling sound escaping his throat. Ben was dying silently, a complete opposite of the way he lived.

His body shook as the last blood spilled, and all Francisco could do was hold him and cry.

BEN IS DEAD!!!!!!

Also, JONAH IS ALIVE!

next chapter is our finale!!!

what do we think is gonna happen, girlie pops!!!

I have enjoyed so much writing this series, im getting emotional coming to the end!!!!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

How to keep up with the story!

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aquafaith · 4 years ago

Text

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti acowar #anti acofas #anti acosf #anti sjm #anti feysand #anti rhysand

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animeyanderelover · 4 years ago

Text

Requested from @girliesanjose123

Request: Can I have prompt 68 with Indra Otsutsuki in a soulmate AU?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, harsh behavior, controlling behavior, kidnapping, violence, abuse

Prompt 68: “You’re all I think about. I always think about holding you, kissing you, touching you, making love to you, breeding you...”

"Don't even think about it." You flinched when you heard his cold and voice ringing through the cold air of the night, a wonderful addition to his icy tone. Just as quickly as your eyes had wandered to the forest and the idea of trying to make a run for it as soon as he was asleep, the idea left you again. Instead you just turned around, staring with a scared look in your eyes at the dancing bonfire. "I'm sorry. I won't think about it again.", you muttered quickly out, a habit you had formed due to past experiences with him.

You heard something akin to a dismissing hum from him before ot became silent between you two, the only thing that made this all not too suffocating or awkward were the random noises of the night, the crackling sounds of the fire and the swooshing created by the wind. It wasn't the first time that you two just sat there like this, not speaking to each other. You because you were too intimidated and had no idea on about what you could possibly talk about with him and him because he wasn't the very talkative type. And forcing him into a conversation wasn't very wise either, he got quickly annoyed with you.

Up until this day you had troubles believing that he was really the one you had been born to be with, your soulmate. And yet his name had been engraved on your wrist since your thirteenth year of life, written down in black letters without a chance to ever erase it again. Just like your name was written down on his wrist, he had never told you since when. The most detailed answer you had gotten from him had been that he had the mark on him since quite the long time.

Soulmates were totally romanticized in your opinion even though you understood to a very small degree why people wished to have a soulmate as well. The idea of having someone who was born to be with you and would experience something that could only be described with love at first sight was tempting to imagine. But sadly the dark side of having a soulmate was overshadowed, pushed away since people only wanted to see and hear what added up to the dream relationship in their mind.

There was no other choice than this one person who was your other half, not even if you fell for someone who seemed to fit you much more perfect. This was one of the most common misunderstandings people had about soulmates. They thought they were perfect for each other and loved each other conditionally. It was a lie. You had informed yourself, read a lot of reports and letters about it, even from people who had themselves a soulmate. And in more than a few people had described that their soulmate had been nothing near perfect, they had been lazy, selfish, mean and so much more. Some had even described how their soulmate had cheated even after they had met each other which had ended in a terrible heartbreak for both parts.

Having a soulmate didn't have to mean that they loved you as well, but once this happened, it ended in a terrible pain and depression for both parties and some had even said to die because of a broken heart. What a ridiculous thing to exist. Why would have a innocent who had done nothing wrong suffer because their soulmate had to be a dick without knowing each other even that well except the sudden attraction to each other and the knowledge that they were your soulmate?

So you had never been exactly happy when receiving that mark of yours, but everyone else around you had seemed to make a huge fuss about it. Friends and classmates had envied you for it and your neighbors had started almost gushing about the name written down on your wrist, starting to talk to you about how happy you must be to have one and how cute you would look together with them. You hadn't, but with that opinion you had been sadly alone. Even your parents had sugarcoated it, maybe because they were scared what might happen to you and this Indra if you would reject them.

But you had been completely right and you could bet that everyone in the village had sobered by now up from their delusions. If he would have kidnapped you silently, they would have assumed that you might have gone with him. But you hadn't. Instead you had tried to run away from him after only a few hours of knowing him. And you still remembered how the protests and comments to try to calm you down had died down the moment Indra had started demolishing everything in his way to catch you.

You didn't know until this day what had become of all the people in the village and if some of them were even alive. You hadn't seen much, but the short glances on the place that had used to be your home once had been enough to horrify you before you had passed out after looking in red eyes with three dots spinning inside of them.

You had by now given up asking to see your family again, every begging and pleading had been harshly and coldly shut down by him that by now you had pretty much lost all hopes. You had also given up on cursing whoever had decided to set you two up, there was nothing you could do and you had sadly no one to blame for this either, leading you to wallowing in self-pity.

The most frustrating was that you knew so little about him. He had never told you much and you had long ago lost the guts to ask him. You knew he was from far away, had left due to family issues and was planning to prove something. That was about all you knew about him next to his name and that he was insanely powerful. He could be a mass murder and you wouldn't kno. He on the other hand had wanted to know about everything about you and had forced it out of you. Well, maybe he would become more open over time. He wasn't someone who seemed to warm up quickly to a stranger.

That was probably why he was so distant and cold to you most of the time next to being very strict and controlling. He striked you as someone who viewed love and attraction as a weakness, but still seemed to be sane enough to know what would happen if he would have left you behind back then when he had met you for the first time. You had read that soulmates had gone crazy for their other half after meeting them and having to endure a longer time not touching them.

He was smart enough to fulfill those needs of his which sadly also fulfilled your needs. He hadn't engaged in anything too sexual so far, but even those forced touches of his had been enough to make you feel repulsed and yet also had pulled you closer to him. You blamed the soulmate bond for it. You knew too well that you would most likely not be able to stay like this forever, being already sometimes torn apart between your huge dislike for him and the always remaining attaction for him, the butterflies you felt whenever he seemed to become more nice and softer with you.

It was frustrating enough to make you feel like crying sometimes, you hadn't want any of this, but life had to be a bitch and decide to make him from all people in this world your soulmate. You just wished you had never been born with a soulmate or at the very least never met him. You hated how you always felt a painful stinging in your chest when he ignored you or hissed angrily at you.

You knew he had to feel the same, he had to suffer when avoiding you as well. But he was far more better in handling and hiding it than you were which was another rather hurting and harsh slap in your face. Didn't he care at all? You really just thought he was, the only reason he kept you around was because he didn't want to endure the full package of pain that came with just leaving your soulmate alone. He was just too hard to read.

And yet there were those moments where you almost got the feeling he was seeking for your touches and some sort of affirmation of you, only to push you moments later away from him and look like he had no idea what he had just done either. Such moments confused you greatly and seemed to irritate him just as much. So at the very least he seemed to slowly get pulled to you as well. Was this actually a thing to be glad or terrified over?

"Are you sulking again over the fact that we're soulmates?" His voice brought you out of your thoughtful gaze, noticing with a slight shiver that he was staring at you. You guessed you had stared too long at the mark on your wrist. You didn't know how to answer this, feeling scared that the wrong answer might lead to him getting angry again. You had learned to be careful around him, you felt most of the times like you were walking on eggshells whenever with him.

You opened your mouth shortly, only to close it again after not finding the strength to do as much as uttering a single word out. You had nothing to say if you were honest with yourself. "You're not going to answer me?"

Indra had shifted slightly closer to you, eyes drilling themselves into you with a piercing intensity. He hadn't activated them yet so that meant you were still in a green zone with him, he always activated them when he was pissed off because of something. A short glance at him made you almost believe that he seemed to display genuine curiosity right now.

You hesitated for a bit, not knowing whether to be honest with him or not. Lying was always an option, but a rather stupid one, he noticed always when you lied to him and he disliked it when you lied. "Yes, I am.", you answered for a few seconds of thick silence passing by, observing cautiously his reaction.

You had expected him to either not care or just becoming mad with you, but instead you always imagined for a second something akin to exhaustion flashing over his face. But it was so quickly gone that you weren't even sure if it had been there in the first place. But it had awakened some sort of interest in him, judging from the way his attention was now hooked on you. It made you tense up, playing with your fingers awkwardly.

"You know, I never asked you this before...But what do you think of me? Be honest." This question always made you choke on your own spit, gaping dumbfounded and majorly confused at him. His face gave no emotion away he could possibly feel right now. But from the way he was looking at you, you knew that he expeted an answer, a honest one, from you.

"You're not...what I expected." It was the only true yet subtle enough statement you could think off without saying anything that could offend him too openly.

It didn't seem to satisfy him though, he furrowed his eyebrows slightly at this very vague answer of yours. "Be more specific. I want to know."

If you would tell him, he would be angry with you, you were almost certain about it. Shouldn't it have been obvious from the way you were acting around him that you didn't like him? He couldn't be that oblivious. So if he already knew, why asking? Did he perhaps want to hear it from you personally?

"You're kind of...distant..." It sounded more like a question and you said it extremely slowly, unsureness dripping from every word. You kept by now an eye on Indra so you could react when he seemed to get offended by what you said. But at the moment he appeared to be calm, just listening and watching. "Continue."

"Well, if I'm being honest I feel a bit neglected from you. You're hard to read and I can't seem to understand what you sometimes even want from me. There are those moments where you treat me like I'm just air or some sort of dog you have to punish for bad behavior. And in other moments you are suddenly being all nice and friendly with me and almost act like you care before you snap out of it again and lash out on me. You're a bit confusing to be with and I just feel like you can't stand me at all since I make you acting like this. So emotionally."

There were quite a lot of unspoken things you could have added, but that would have taken a while and were far more offendingly than what you had put in words as politely as possible and told him just now.

He didn’t say anything which you just counted as a good thing, it meant he wasn’t mad at you...At least yet. Who knew with him and his temper. “So I take it that you don’t like me, do you?”

You quirked yourself eyebrow a few millimeters upon hearing the undertone in his voice, scanning his face. He was not angry, you could tell. It was something else right now for which you needed a few moments to look at before you suddenly understood. Was he...Was he poking fun at you?!

This made you stop thinking for a moment, you had in those past few weeks never seen him displaying many emotions except anger, impatience and from time to time those nearly desperate acts of affection. But never, never had you seen him being amused, you had thought that he had been annoyed by all of this. But now he looked like he was almost about to grin which irritated you. Why was he being entertained all of a sudden? You felt a flicker of annoyance and slight anger shooting through you, making you frown a bit.

“No, of course I like you. Why wouldn’t I like my soulmate who kidnapped me, ruined my village and life and treats me like I’m a piece of shit? I’m happy to be ignored and neglected from my soulmate who seems to not like me at all.” You could not help the sarcasm dripping from your voice whilst watching him through narrowed eyes. The last sentence from you was half the truth and half a lie. You were content with him not acknowledging your presence, it saved you from his outbursts or forced affections. On the other hand it also led you to feeling a often a tingling pain of abandonment in your chest which you didn’t like at all. You could only curse at the connection you shared with Indra. You loathed it.

You heard him scoffing, his expression telling you that he was surprised, luckily not too negatively, by your sudden attitude. “You feel neglected?”, he asked you, giving you a somewhat mischievous look which made you even more irritated. “So you want me to give you more affection? Is that it?”

You didn’t like how close he had shifted to you, it made you uncomfortable and you refused to acknowledge the happy and warm tingling this sudden closeness seemed to cause in your body. “Tell me,”, he asked in a deeper voice,”do you think I hate you and you me?”

Against your will you felt your face heating up and your heartbeat increasing, staring almost hypnotized in those deep and black orbs of his in which you, for the first time since he had abducted you, saw the sparkles of emotions. Had they always been there? Granted, it was your first time looking him so directly in his eyes.

“I-I-umm...” That was about how you sounded right now, slapping yourself mentally out of embarrassment. Why were you all of a sudden so bashful? No, you refused to let him win this. You took a deep and shaky breath to come back to your senses. “Give me a reason to not think you would hate me despite those short moments where you fulfill the basic needs every soulmate feels when with his other half. And why wouldn’t I hate you?! You dragged me in this whole mess and because of you I-“

You were forcefully silenced in a way that made your heart nearly jump out of your chest. He kissed you, surprisingly warm lips moving in a firm way against yours. And you really should have done something against it. But the moment you felt his lips against yours for the first time since you had seen him, it was like a bomb exploded in your head and all of a sudden everything inside of you seemed to slow wonderfully down, no numb stinging, no unnecessary thoughts, only you and him.

Just for a short moment you seemed to forget what he had done, letting the overwhelming feelings of the special bond between you two get the better of you. And all of a sudden you found your arms around his neck, your body screaming to be closer to him. This didn’t go unnoticed by him and you felt something that would have been a smirk if your lips wouldn’t have affectionate-starved moved against his own. At the very least he seemed to share the same hunger for touches from you like the other way around because you felt his arms suddenly sliding around you and lifting you with surprisingly much carefulness yet also eagerness closer to him, chest pressed against chest so that you two could feel each other’s heartbeat beating in sync. It was such a blissful experience for you, suddenly having so much intimacy with the man who had refused to give you what you had always wanted despite refusing to admit so.

You almost whined when he suddenly pulled away, probably because he had realized that you were running short on air which you hadn’t even realized until you panted quickly for air, body still refusing to leave his sudden embrace.

“Are you sure that you hate me? Your actions just right now seemed to tell the opposite.” He himself seemed to be out of air, you hearing his slight panting, warm air hitting your neck and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You felt shame washing over you the moment you heard his questions, refusing to look him into his eyes. Your lips had pressed into an angry line, the feeling of his mouth on yours still lingering and you cussed yourself when catching yourself wishing to just slam your lips against his once again.

“What was that for right now? Did you want to torture me by showing me how pathetic this rebellious act of mine really is?” Your voice was a hushed hissing, but the bitterness laced in it was clearly audible.

“That was one of the reasons, though not the main one.” You gnashed your teeth when hearing the smugness in his voice, obviously content with what he had just seen and felt. But you also found yourself being once again confused. Not the main one? What was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even have to ask this, he answered it without you even having to question him. “I don’t hate you. Much more on the contrary. You’re all I think about. I always think about holding you, kissing you, touching you, making love to you, breeding you...”

You felt a disturbing feeling starting to make it’s way up your throat, forming a lump on which you almost choked. By now his eyes seemed to blaze with a sudden storm of emotion which could be put together in a few simple yet terrifying words. Twisted and sick obsession.

“You will love me. You have no choice, but to do so. You can try to neglect your feelings for as long as you want, I can guarantee you that I’ll make sure that you’ll melt in my touches. We’re soulmates (y/n). You’ll come around sooner or later.”

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere indra #yandere indra otsutsuki

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oogaboogasphincter · 4 years ago

Text

A Magpie, a Goose and a Sparrow Walk into a Found Family Trope (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: A nightmare caused by trauma he endured before and on The Green haunts Ezra one night, his fear bleeding into reality. Under the fog of sleep, he hurts you, thinking you are the monster that is endangering you, Cee and himself while on your next trip. He apologizes by doing something that terrifies him: opening his heart up to another person.

Word Count: 10.7k+ (holy shit i deeply apologize for putting my readers through this agonizingly long junk)

Rating: M (mature) just to be safe (some pretty intense themes but i don’t think there’s anything too explicit)

Warnings: non-fatal manual strangulation and bruises from it, swearing, sexualization of two adults, mild references to sex, mild allusions to sexual arousal, discussion of trauma and its effects, Prospect (2018) spoilers, some argument, hair braiding, one (1) ✨neck✨ kiss, one use of (y/n), sprinkles of that sexual tension we all love, a resolved ending!

Author’s Note: first off, thank you SO much to @martinsmomo for this request!💜💕 this was so creative, i hope i did it justice :). second, AHHH!!!!! my first piece ever!!! i haven’t written anything on my own time for my own enjoyment since i was like 13, which may or may not be apparent by my comma splices, repetitive sentence structure/word choice and disagreeing verb tense💀. the thought of i have no idea what i'm doing never left my mind while i was writing this, but i just tried to go with it and have fun :). ALSO, i had so much fun reading all of the lore about the world that Prospect (2018) takes place in. Here is a link to a pamphlet about a lot of stuff that is featured in the movie, which i used while writing this piece. i highly recommend you check it out! i tried to stick to as much canon stuff as i could, but 🦋The Blue🦋 is something that i made up. also this is not beta’d, i just wanted to throw this into the void and see what happens✨. i also also want to point out that in no way am i trying to romanticize or sexualize domestic violence. i know that the subject matter in this piece can be triggering, and even though the violence wasn’t intentional and it’s resolved through love, i don’t want it to be misconstrued as something that it’s not. with that being said, i hope you enjoy it! :)

gif by @anakin-skywalker

A grunt stirs you from your deep slumber. Your eyes open easily, a treat that you weren’t given often due to the dryness of the pod’s recirculated air. The inside of your shared galactic chamber is as dark as your mind; no illumination to shine on your thoughts and wake them up or to show you how Ezra is doing. You know the grunt had come from him, as the only other passenger was his adopted daughter, Cee. You turn in your pilot’s chair, looking over your shoulder to try and make him out through the impossible darkness.

Parcel-Class Planetary Drop Pods were designed to fit only two travelers, however the three of you had decided to embark on your next journey together. To save on costs, your partners opted for a model without cots. Being the gentleman that he is, Ezra insisted that you and Cee sleep in the pilots’ chairs. He had thrown a few blankets on the cold, flat floor and had proudly announced, “Sleeping quarters fit for a king!”, eliciting pitiful laughter from you and Cee.

Now, your eyes can’t find the sad bundle of warmth that is his sleeping figure. He is a restless sleeper, and every time he made a noise that was more than a good-natured hum or a soft swish of rearranging his blankets, you would wake and turn to make sure that he was okay. You would do the same for Cee, but she was a fantastic sleeper. Not too deep, not too light, and never made a peep. You turn back around, giving up on trying to spot Ezra in the dark, when you hear another grunt.

This one is louder than the last.

You turn back around yet again, your own blanket falling off of your chest and into your lap. Eyebrows furrowing together and eyes squinting, your pupils strain themselves to find any shred of light to let you see. The noises increase in abundance and volume. Ezra’s sleeping fit has transformed from a halfhearted rustling to an aggravated clamor in less than a minute. Your eyes stay on the dark patch of space where you know his “bed” is situated while Cee arises from her sleep. Her chair lets out the slightest creak as she follows your gaze and attempts herself to see what all of the commotion is about. She asks you, “Is he okay?” Ezra answers her with an irritated growl through his teeth. You say to her, “I don’t know, I can’t see him, should we-”

Your suggestion of waking him up is cut short as two hands wrap around your throat. The hands twist your head to face forward, and you’re greeted with Ezra’s sweat-slicken face. Instinctively, you grasp at his forearms in an effort to ease the constriction of your neck.

Cee screams, “Ezra, let go of her!”

He defies her command and puts one of his knees in between yours on the seat of the pilot’s chair and leans closer to you. The brown eyes that you had grown to love now bore into yours with unwavering menace as the pads of his fingers press harder into the sides of your neck. His palms are flush with your larynx, threatening to crush it. You want to let out sobs of heartbreak, but are unable to. He’s restricted your actions to only being able to watch him attempt to strangle you. Your fingers aren’t able to get a grip on his limbs due to his angry sweat and your panicked claminess. Your mouth hangs open as his is shut tight, his jaw muscles stuttering with intense rage. He starts to growl through his teeth again, but a flash of light turns it into a howl.

His entire body falls back, his hands losing their purchase on your neck. You suck in a harsh breath and lean forward as Cee grabs your hand and pulls you out of the pilot’s chair. In her other hand she grips a Boscelot Frontiersman: the source of the light that had extracted Ezra’s shriek and drilled its way into his thigh. He sat on the floor in front of your chair and laced his hands just above his injury, throwing his head back and wincing.

Cee puts some feet in between the two of you and guides you across the floor to the other side of the impossibly small pod. Hoarse coughs begin to rise from your surprised larynx, accompanied by trembling of your entire body. Cee, still holding you by your arm with one hand and the Thrower in the other, yells your thoughts at Ezra, “What the fuck was that for?!” She flicks the lights on, allowing everyone to see each other’s face for the first time all night.

Ezra stares at the two of you in disbelief. Both brunette and blonde strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes depressed from the subsiding adrenaline, his whole body drenched in distressed perspiration. You and him lock eyes, even through your flailing about as you continue to choke on air and delicately place your own hands over where his just had you in a vice grip. He knows what he’s done as soon as he sees you. He begins to cry and opens his mouth to start an apology that can never be adequate, but Cee hurls a field kit at his head. It hits him and he takes the blow without complaint. His devastated eyes keep to your bloodshot ones as he opens up the kit and starts to treat his justified wound. Cee stares at him with aggravation, and so do you, but her expression is void of confusion.

You are confused as all hell. What could have possibly made him do that? He seemed to be having a nightmare, but that didn’t give him the excuse to nearly strangle you to death.

Your coughs and stress start to dwindle as all of you sit there, not saying a word, the only other noise in the room being Ezra opening and closing medical supplies. He squirts a sanitizing solution over his wound, hissing, and then he takes out a Patch Gun. This sets your heart racing. The strangling was unpredicted and almost successful, would he get up once he was healed enough and try to do it again? You push yourself back against the wall and keep your widening eyes on him as he sprays the medicated foam into the hole the Thrower had burned through his trousers. He squeezes his eyes shut, winces intensely, and then fails to keep a painful wail inside his chest. You’ve seen him treat himself before, and usually his next step is to throw more than the recommended amount of pain relievers into his mouth and chew on the tablets, redirecting the pain from his injury to his mouth. He doesn’t do that this time.

Instead he throws the used Patch Gun to the side, closes the field kit and pushes it Cee’s way. He breathes your name out of his mouth, causing you to retreat further into the wall. You bring your legs to your chest and wrap your hands around the back of your neck, resting your elbows on your quaking kneecaps. Burrowing your face into the cavity you’ve created, you start bawling. Pain sears your throat, and is only intensified by your sobs, but you can’t help it. You’re absolutely terrified. Ezra says your name again, genuine with care, in an effort to get you to look at him. You shake your head once and continue to gasp into yourself. Cee startles you by touching your shoulder, and she quells your worries, “He won’t do it again.”

Her five simple words plant a seedling of peace in your heart, but it is nowhere near close to blooming. You don’t look up as she gets up and goes over to your pilot chair and grabs your blankets. Her footsteps return to you quickly, and within moments her warm, calm hands are draping the fabric over your shoulders. She rests her chin on your shoulder, moving with your heaves. A softening tone takes over her beautiful voice as she murmurs “It’s okay”s, “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s into your blankets. Before you know it, your body succumbs to the overwhelming desire to heal mentally, emotionally and physically with sleep. Your trust in Ezra may be broken right now, but you know that Cee will watch over you. Despite her lack of size and experience compared to Ezra, you know she has the upper hand on him intellectually. He may be full of wondrous prose, a never-ending vocabulary and sharp wit, but Cee has had him in the palm of her hand ever since they met. You can sleep knowing that she can protect you and herself, if need be.

You peek out underneath your arm to qualify to yourself that Ezra is in no shape to attack again.

He sits where he landed when he fell, slouching with exhaustion. His eyes sparkle with tears of regret, his eyebrows quirked in a way that reads “There aren’t enough ways to apologize, but I’ll try every one until you forgive me.” You close your eyes, lay your head against the wall and beg the Sandman to bring you all a night of peace as you rest until the Sun comes up.

The pale blue morning light penetrates your eyelids and alerts your brain that it is time to get up. You awake to find Cee and Ezra sound asleep, her in her pilot’s chair and him in his “bed”. You are still huddled up against the wall, opposite to Ezra, and look upon him with a wary gaze. The fear he inserted into you last night makes your nerves feel like static, but at the same time you can’t help but be relaxed by his presence. It’s obvious he didn’t cause any more damage during rest of the night, so maybe his eyebrows were telling the truth: that he is sorry.

The muted sunshine washes his complexion out and dulls the warmth that his chestnut locks hold. It makes the blonde patch in his hair and the arc scar on his cheek glisten cerulean. His expression is relaxed, eyelids fidgeting under the controls of REM sleep.

The sound of Cee’s alarm clock distracts you, and moments later her hand reaches out and pushes the ‘stop’ button. Awakening limbs appear above the back of her chair, accompanied by a yawn. Your eyes dart to Ezra. He’s still asleep. She turns to you first and smiles, “Are you alright?” You nod once, return her smile, and you both turn to the slumbering man. She says, folding her blanket, “He’s fine. Calmed down after you fell asleep. He said he had a nightmare that you had turned against us. He said he wants to apologize but understands if you don’t want to speak to him.” You sigh through your nose, glancing over at him, “That’s okay. I think I would like some time away from him though. Just to process things, y’know?” Cee turns to face you, “That’s what I figured. I told him that.” You look at her and nod once.

She gets up and stretches again, folded blanket still in hand. She puts it on her seat and looks up at you excitedly, “Want to come look for aurelac with me today?”

“Definitely.”

Her face lights up with a wide smile and you mirror her reaction. Getting up and dropping your blankets to the floor, you go over to the compartment in the wall that holds your equipment. You take out what you’ll need - suit, helmet, air filter and a few Slurry Packs - and close the latch. The door slams shut harder than you intended, the resulting crash jolting Ezra awake.

A shy, apologetic smile graces his face as he meets your eyes, and you return the expression. You were still tightly wound, but were ready to start dispelling the fear, and that began by being cordial with him. His smile fades when his eyes lower to your hands and take in what you are holding. He gets up off the floor and inquires, “What do you have all that for?” His expression is neutral, but you worry that you will anger him by telling him what your plans are.

He had made it very clear since you joined him and Cee that he did not want you to prospect. He had told you that it was too dangerous of a task in itself, let alone the implications that came along with it: bartering, lying, gambling, stealing, killing. He didn’t want you or Cee to be subjected to any any of the horrors that accompanied prospecting, but Cee had been stubborn about her desires and had proven her abilities. She was great at prospecting, possessing an attention to tedium and an unwavering sense of calmness while performing the task. For a man who seeps with wisdom, Ezra wasn’t all that good of a prospector. He had the tendency to lose patience and cripple under pressure, which sometimes led to compromised digs.

“I’m going to look for aurelac deposits with Cee.” You nudge your head in her direction and she smiles at Ezra. He waves his hand dismissively, “That’s all fine and dandy,” now pointing a lazy yet warning finger at you, “But don’t you dare let prospecting dance upon those beautiful brain waves of yours.” His comment irritated you. You had never shown any signs of true disobedience to his wishes, besides the casual sigh of boredom or the bratty roll of your eyes. The words also set your heart aflutter. As you try to hide your blush and bury your annoyance, Cee says to him, “We don’t be doing any prospecting if we can’t find any aurelac.” His head tilts in agreement. He pads over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. He had sensed your irritation and repeats his mantra of why he doesn’t want you prospecting, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your anger became fiery again. Shoulder jerking to flick his hand off, you jab at him, “Because I’m safe in the confines of the pod?”

He points a finger at you again, this time accusatory, “That was purely an accident. Do not take it as anything but.”

Cee commands, “Both of you, stop, now. I’m not dealing with this all day. It was an accident. An inexcusable one, but an accident.”

Your and Ezra’s eyebrows had shifted to take on the same irate slope, however you both decide to just let it drop. You visibly signal your concession by dropping your shoulders and Ezra reflects you. He spins on his heels to open his own equipment hatch, and you turn to the wall yours is on. You all face the walls and change into your suits, a ritual of trust and time efficiency you decided on when the three of you agreed to work as a group.

Once dressed, you exit the pod, Ezra being first and Cee being last, and embark on your daily journey. The Sun had retreated behind some dark grey clouds. The sky was a royal blue, the ground was greige and the dark foliage that surround you drips with dew. You were stationed on the Blue Moon, an orbiting moon in the Bakhroma System. This place wasn’t highly traveled like its permanent sister (the Green Moon), due to the popular aftermath of the Aurelac Rush. Although Cee and Ezra had been there and left, many people in the galaxy still went to try and scoop up some valuable remains. Unlike The Green, The Blue wasn’t known for its abundant aurelac deposits, which is precisely why your partners chose to come here.

Their original plan was to travel to The Blue with just themselves, but while on a stop to Puggart Bench you had entranced Ezra while Cee tried to scope out her old friends and catch up with them before she set off on another mission. Demonstrating your eagerness to explore the galaxy and your expansive knowledge of it, Ezra decided to add you to his partnership. It didn’t hurt that you also tried to express your attraction to him, complimenting the rugged floater on his impressive vocabulary. He had complimented you on your willingness to listen to his ramblings, and it had been love ever since. Neither of you had come out directly and said “I love you”, and you hadn’t partaken in any physical affection, but your yearning for each other could not be more understood. His adoration for you only deepened when he saw how you interacted with Cee. Being closer to her generation than Ezra’s, you were able to connect with her like contemporaries. However, you were far enough away from her age group to the point where Ezra couldn’t act as a father figure to you. This duality made you irresistible to him.

Back to the present, you gaze at the back of his helmet intently, waiting to see what his plan of action for the day is. The Green requires visitors to wear air-tight suits and breathe through air filtration systems at all times because of harmful spores that float in the atmosphere. The Blue’s spores are far less harmful, and helmets can be taken off for 45 minute intervals, but the three of you only took them off when the confinement of the helmets became a little too much. The glass window of Ezra’s helmet swivels to you and he asks, “Split up, hourly check-ins, reconvene for lunch?”

As you’re thinking of your answer, you notice his eyes dart repeatedly up and down your body. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly parted that he isn’t assessing your body language to predict your response. He’s thinking about all of the ways he would devour you for apology’s sake.

You look to Cee in the middle of your answer, “Sure. I’ll go with Cee today.” She smiles at you and turns to him. His mouth closes and he looks down to fiddle with his radio with thick-gloved fingers, “I’ll be on channel one.” Cee says, “Okay,” and beckons you to follow her as she sets off on a worn path. You and Ezra look at each other one more time before you turn in opposite directions and begin your divergent treks.

Catching up to Cee by jogging, your steps slow to match her pace once you are by her side. There’s silence between the two of you for a little while as you weave your way through trees of varying heights, eyes keeping to the ground to spot humps in the dirt. Humps gave away the location of aurelac deposits. A couple of slips were shared between the two of you as you climbed over hills and shuffled through valleys, the forest floor littered with puddles. What The Green has in vegetation, The Blue has in water. There were multiple lakes, some touting depths that are only achievable by advanced marine technology. Rainstorms are common, but they never grow to something like a hurricane. Everything was doused in a blue hue, whether it was the air, the water or the plants. The spores in the air resembled stagnant raindrops, peculiar in the way that they seemed to stay in their place in the atmosphere.

Cee broke the silence, “So, are you okay?” You know exactly what she is referring to and answer, “Yeah. Still a bit shaken up and confused, but other than that I guess I’m fine. I can feel bruises where his hands were.” She turns around to look at you and you lift your chin for her to see. She grimaces and says, “Yeah, you can see where each finger was and everything.” You look down, feeling disappointed that the event even happened. You ask her, “So he had a nightmare about me?” You watch the back of her helmet as she nods, “Yep. He just said that he thought you were going to endanger the three of us. He didn’t say in what way, really, just that you were a threat.” You take a moment to process the information and then fire off another question, “So, I have nightmares too, but I don’t act on them in real life. So why did he do what he did? Is there, like, an underlying feeling of distrust that he has for me, or...?” She started shaking her head halfway through your last sentence, “No, no, not at all. It’s just that The Green was so traumatic that I can understand just how vivid nightmares about it can be. And even though I don’t know much about what he went through before I met him on The Green, I’m sure prospecting was just as dangerous as it is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if at one point, or at a million points, someone that he trusted backstabbed him. But it’s nothing personal against you at all.” You nod and take in her words, trying to reassure yourself that you can trust him, even though he had done everything he could to prove you otherwise the night prior.

Cee stops and turns to you, chuckling, “If anything-”

A short sound on your radios cuts her off, and Ezra’s voice comes through the speakers, “How are you little birds coming along?”

Cee answers, “Fine. No deposits yet. What about you?” She grins at you, not forgetting to finish her comment as soon as he leaves the two of you alone.

“Nothing. I’ll be shocked if we stumble across any hint of a deposit today. Like every day. Over and out.”

You look at her, eager to hear what she has to say. This only widens her smile, and she rolls her eyes as she begins, “Like I was saying.” You both laugh as she continues, “If anything, you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. I’ve never seen his eyes light up so much at anything like they do when he looks at you.” You blush and look down at your feet shyly. She gives you a playful shove and knocks you out of your butterfly-ridden trance. Her tone changes serious as she sighs, her pitch dropping a little bit lower than normal, “You really don’t have to worry about him hurting you or me. He’s just fucked up from our time on The Green. I am too, but I experienced it in a slightly different way, and deal with it differently too. I mean, I lost my father, but he killed two other people. It got us out of there, but that’s probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. And since it was recent, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle the whole thing. I’m not making any excuses for him, because he didn’t have any reason to attack you, regardless of any dream, but he seriously wouldn’t do that under any other circumstances.” She puts an assuring hand on your shoulder and smiles. You smile back and nod once in understanding, saying, “I believe you.” She pats your back, and you both turn to continue on your walk. A few moments pass, and she lets out another laugh. You teasingly ask her with a smile on your face, “What is it now?”

“I mean, it’s obvious that Ezra’s been through some shit, because the guy’s fucking weird as hell.” Your helmets are filled with your cackling as thoughts of the strange man play out in your head. Cee jokes, “I mean, little bird? His confusing speech pattern in general? Someone who talks in crosswords is either an ancient person who is trying to be clever in their last days because that’s the only form of strength they have left or just some asshole who finds enjoyment in verbally tricking people.” Another few moments of giggling pass before she ends with, “And what’s with the drawl?” She turns to you, the injuries in your throat burning from laughing so hard, “Have you ever heard someone else, in the entire Bakhroma System, talk like that?” You shake your head while wheezing and she says, “I haven’t either. So how did that weirdo even get here?”

The surrounding forests may be quiet, but the inside of your suits are filled with the joyful laughter of two friends who continue on their merry way to find some aurelac.

What yesterday lacked in aurelac, it made up for in emotional gains. You had spent the rest of the day with Cee, strengthening your tender bond, exploring the terrain that The Blue had to offer. Ezra kept to his promise and checked in on you two hourly, making sure that you hadn’t run into any other travelers or went too far off the grid. Your group hadn’t crossed paths with any other citizens of the galaxy since you landed, which didn’t surprise or disappoint any of you; the three of you needed some peacetime for regrouping.

You start today by scanning the pod’s dashboard of lights to make sure nothing is out of order. Because of his contempt to the idea of you prospecting, Ezra had assigned you to be the pod’s programmer. Pods were cheap to rent, so they were justifiably subject to malfunctions. Given that Cee and Ezra were tasked with mapping out The Blue and harvesting aurelac, you obliged to take the responsibility of operating the astronomical vehicle. The other job you had been given was keeper of the harvested aurelac. Once in its containers, you were to check on the gems every day and make sure that none had cracked during transport. The problem is that you haven’t had any luck at finding such valuables. It has been documented that The Blue does contain aurelac, but that it is extremely difficult to find. However, the average gem on The Blue is thrice the size of that which The Green holds. So the size and abundance differences are a lawful tradeoff.

While you’re analyzing a digital screen on the dashboard, an expressive yawn escapes a man’s mouth. You twist to see Ezra stretching his arm out, eyes and nose scrunched in delight at the wringing out of his muscles. A smile graces your face as you take in his exaggerated display of awakening, and he mirrors your smile when he opens his eyes. His arm relaxes at his side, and a raspy morning voice greets you, “Hi.” You smirk at his unadorned statement and say back, “Hi.” He holds your gaze for a moment before turning to pick his mechanical arm up off the floor next to him. After losing his arm on The Green, his prospecting abilities fell drastically. He had to take out a loan to pay for the artificial limb, but it would restore his talents, so it was a fair deal. That’s why the three of you had gone on this mission, rather than building your friendship on Puggart Bench: to harvest aurelac to repay the loan.

Cee grabs both you and Ezra’s attention as she wakes with a start. Getting up and out of her pilot’s chair, she merrily folds her blankets and marches over to her equipment hatch. You and Ezra share a look of bewilderment, and he questions, “Good morning?” She flips around to you both, forgetting that you were in the pod with her. She cheers, “Good morning!” Reading the two confused expressions that watch her, she explains, “I want to go and look at this area that we missed yesterday. It has a lot of hills, so maybe that’s an indicator of more deposits. I was going to look at it yesterday, but then we came together for lunch, and I completely forgot about it until now.” Noting that she is the only one in the pod that is anywhere near awake, she asks both you and Ezra, “Is it okay if I go by myself?”

Memories of the last 36 hours flicker in your head, discomforting your nerves. It’s not that you don’t trust Ezra, but you don’t trust Ezra. The outburst that he had the other night frightened the shit out of you, and you’ve been wary to interact with him at all, let alone without Cee present to diffuse the situation if it got too tense. The fear he had shoved upon you was still fresh, but the excitement in Cee’s face and your tiresome brain convinced you that it would be okay. Maybe during this time alone you could patch things up with him. Him and Cee had given you a general rundown of what had happened on The Green when you first met, but you could prod Ezra about the details. Hopefully you could uncover some explanations to his night terrors.

You look over at him to gauge his reaction to her proposition, and he’s staring at you with puppy-dog eyes. His mouth is turned up in a soft smile, and you can’t help but grin at the way his hair is still unruly from his sleep. Suddenly you feel a pleasant heat between your legs, and you can’t tell if it’s just your body waking up or the overwhelming desire to pepper a million kisses over the sleepy man’s face. Refusing to admit to yourself that the latter is the true culprit of your wetness, you shake your head slightly to rock you out of your trance and say to Cee, “Yeah, that would be fine.” Ezra’s smile at you widens before he turns to Cee and inputs, “I concur. Like always, just be sure to watch your surroundings carefully. You’ll find us here when you return.” She nods once and turns to her equipment hatch, signaling you and Ezra to turn to yours as well to give her some privacy as she changes. Once changed, she closes her hatch, puts her helmet on and departs, “I’ll be on channel one. See you guys later!” You and Ezra both give halfhearted waves, still too tired to formulate any meaningful words. The door to the pod closes behind her, and you are alone with Ezra.

The anticipation of being alone with him made you more anxious than how you feel now, letting your eyes fall to the man still on the floor. He’s already looking up at you, the lazy smile still pulling at his cheeks. The desire to invite yourself into his bed, wrap yourself in his blankets and limbs in order to match the warmth that is flooding your genitals, and doze off into a lustful nap tries to take over your mind. You fight it with everything you have and make your way over to your pilot’s chair. Positioning yourself so that you’re facing Ezra, he simply asks you, “Hungry?” You nod your head and he reaches behind himself. His hand reappears with a Bits Bar, tossing it to you. The only sounds that fill the pod are the crinkling of the wrappers and your respective chewing. Although you’re both preoccupied with eating, Ezra’s silence is deafening. He tended to drop his confusing lingo when talking to you, since he wasn’t trying to trick you. He hadn’t had the courage to reveal his true feelings to you yet, which will be so poetic and heartfelt it will make you sick to your stomach, so he stuck to simple statements. He wanted you to note the difference between his conversations with you and other people, so he made it a very clear point to forgo his prose and expansive vocabulary. He wanted you to note that he revealed his truest sentiments to you and tried his best to hide them from others.

The peaceful nature of the morning encouraged you to bring up an irritating topic with him, “I only want to prospect because I want to help you guys.” He tries to keep his eyes on his food, knowing that looking into your eyes will ignite his possessive and protective nature, “I know that. And it doesn’t matter how many motives you come up with, birdie, there will never be a time when you’re in my care that you will prospect. That’s the extent that I will let this conversation fester to.” His dismissive demeanor infuriates you. You fire back at him, trying not to let your tension leak into your voice, “I’m not Cee. You are not my parent or my guardian, you’re my partner. So there’s no social expectation that I have to submit to your desires.” His irritation grows, entertaining his fingers by folding the wrapper, “That is technically true. But a good partner will never put their partner at risk. And I have deemed it risky for you to prospect.” His retaliation sets you off. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but you also don’t want to back down from this. Your eyebrows crease together in frustration, your arms cross and your mouth sets itself in a frown.

He looks up from his distraction and becomes infuriated by your look. Now he’s pissed. He begins a verbal knife fight, “Maybe if you had experienced what it’s like to have a shitty partner, you would appreciate my efforts to protect you.”

“I’m not ungrateful.”

“In a way, you are. You abandoned everything you had on Puggart Bench once you met me and Cee. You had friends, a nice family, a stable living situation, a good education. Don’t blame me for a position that you put yourself in.”

“First of all, that’s how it looked to you. Second, a good education in prospecting! Maybe if you weren’t staring at my ass every second of every day, you would have asked me what I was studying. I can probably prospect better than you can.”

“I’d find pure, mocking enjoyment in seeing you try to harvest. I would bet my life that I can prospect better than you can, even with my impediment!” He motions to his mechanical arm.

“You wouldn’t have the impediment if you weren’t so fucking devious! And don’t even get me started on the arrogance, or the fucking pretentiousness!”

Your overheated exchange comes to a halt when the pod’s door opens. Cee climbs in, and you and Ezra try to mask your fury for each other as much as you can. She acknowledges the two of you and says, “Just need an air filter.” The atmosphere turns awkward as you watch her get what she needs out of her hatch. She’s leaving as soon as she came in, and you hold up a parting hand and say, “Be safe. Have fun.” She tilts her chin at you, and Ezra chimes in, “Be safe, Sparrow.” She exits, disappearing into The Blue.

Her interruption quelled the fire that burned between you and Ezra, subsequently drowning you in a wave of guilt over your words. Ezra’s looking down at his hands, shadows keeping his expression unreadable. You uncross your arms in defeat as you feel tears gather on your bottom eyelids. Opening your mouth to apologize, Ezra puts his hand up and directs, “Don’t apologize.” You protest, “But-” He cuts you off, “Don’t. Apologize.” You audibly sigh and sit back in your chair, not facing him anymore. You wish you could just kiss him. It would shut the both of you up and finally bring your shared, passionate feelings to the surface. Instead you opt to stare at the program board in front of you. How sexy. Such allure. You roll your eyes at your own naivety.

Both of you sit and replay all of the moments that led you to the peak that you sit atop, questioning how to safely start the descent. You decide to break the silence with a neutral topic, “Why do you call her Sparrow?” Staying turned away from each other, Ezra answers, “Well, now that I have two little birds in my life, I have to distinguish them.” Your heart glows at his comment, but it’s not enough to wipe the somber expression off of your face.

“Why Sparrow though?”

“She’s adaptable. She’s been able to keep a sane mind while traveling through Puggart Bench, The Green, The Ephrate, The Blue. The presence of others doesn’t deter her from her work, yet she’s not aloof to their existence.”

His musings entertain you. Your anger begins to become a thing of the past as you get off of your chair and sit down on the floor a few feet away from him. Being on a literal level playing field only increases your ease.

“What are you?”

He smirks, “A magpie.”

“I should’ve known.”

You share a bit of laughter before he explains, “I’m intelligent in trickery. I take pride in my illusions, but that’s not all I possess. Once I find my mate, I become protective of them, sometimes to the point of absurdity. A magpie male and female share the brunt of building a nest; as all great relationships should split the responsibility of reconciliation equally.” Regarding his last sentence, he raises one eyebrow at you. You stretch your legs out so that the soles of your shoes touch his.

“Magpies mate for life.”

You break your eye contact. You have grown shy from his pointed allusions, so you playfully fiddle his feet with yours. A moment passes before he says, “You’re a snow goose.” Confused, you look up at him, “A snow goose?” He nods enthusiastically, “Yes, a snow goose.” You shake your head, giggling, “I’ve never heard of those.” He leans forward with shock, “Really?” “Yep.” He shakes his head once and stands up to open his equipment hatch above you. He pulls out a book and sits back down, this time beside you. All About Birds. You assume the birds are alphabetized as you watch him flip the book open about 4/5 of the way through, and he presents you with a page: “Snow Goose”. Amused by the fact that he wasn’t lying, you let out a laugh. He laughs with you, “My Goose needs to brush up on her avian animal knowledge.” A minute has to pass before the cackling subsides. Then he paraphrases, “Snow geese are another adaptable bird, preferring to travel in packs. They roost mainly in bodies of water: marshes, ponds, the like. Ringing true to stereotypes of the general breed, they are very territorial of their property once they claim what is theirs. Snow geese have a brilliant white coat, which I equate to your magnificent aura. They are similar to magpies in that they mate for life.”

You look up from the book and are greeted with chocolate eyes glazed in infatuation. Thighs and arms pressed together, you turn to rest your chin on Ezra’s shoulder. Flickering eyes go back and forth between his eyes and his lips, signaling to him that if he wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t object. He inserts, “Snow geese also don’t lack in paying homage to their reputation of being loud bitches.” You gasp and lay a swat on his chest as he chuckles away at his poking. After he has had his fill of laughing, you return to your resting place on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

A few quiet moments go by before you look up at him and admire the handsome, irritating, brave, stubborn, loving man who are you enamored with. You reach your hand up and comb your fingers through his hair once, twice. He leans into your hand as you continue to brush his locks, “Ezra?” He hums, eyes closing rapidly from the lulling pleasure you’re giving him, “Mm-hm?” You whisper, “I’m sorry.” A stark contrast from earlier, he allows your apology. He opens his eyes and they’re dripping with honest remorse and helpless romance, “I’m sorry too.”

Yesterday didn’t amount to what you had originally planned to accomplish, but it was still a good day. Despite all of the insult hurling and badmouthing, you and Ezra ended the day on a nice note. Getting to the bottom of his nightmares could wait for another time. You both had needed a day of fun together to put aside your hostilities before you embarked on discussing trauma. Cee had returned without a problem, hands void of aurelac but filled with notes of The Blue’s landscape.

You wake up, startled, All About Birds slipping off of your lap and onto the floor. You had sliced it out of Ezra’s dormant fingers after he had fallen asleep, your curiosity piqued from his earlier paraphrasing. Cee’s awake and bustling about in the pod, trying to find something, anything, to eat that isn’t a Bits Bar or a Slurry Pack. As you lean over to pick the book up from the floor, you catch Ezra’s eyes on you.

He’s standing at his equipment hatch, doing some much needed cleaning up. He’s a traveler who believes in organized chaos, that putting things in their “right” place takes up too much valuable time.

You smile up at him shyly and as you sit back upright with the book in your hands he says, “Did you find any specimens that better suit us?” You shake your head, “No, you were pretty damn spot on with your choices.” He flashes a smug grin, one that paints your face pink with amusement. Cee plops down in her chair with a huff of defeat, unwrapping a Bits Bar. Ezra hears her and says, “(Y/N) and I will take today’s assignment, Cee. You’ve warranted yourself a break after your ingenious expeditioning yesterday.” She says, “Good, because my legs feel like jelly.” The three of you laugh and you get up and rush to your equipment hatch. With your and Ezra’s friendship on its way to restoration, you were excited to find what the day would hold. The two of you get dressed in a flash, and you tell Cee before putting on your helmet, “We’ll be on channel one, like always.” She sticks a thumb up from behind her chair, and with that you and Ezra are on your way out of the pod.

The rays of the Sun today are periwinkle, streaming through small gaps in the overhanging vegetation. The air is tinted royal blue, the trees shimmer with teal sparkles, the soil a shade of navy. You inhale deeply as if you can smell the fresh air through your air filter, imagining a place where you could be with your gang without all of this clumsy equipment, without giving up the majesty that this landscape has.

Ezra snaps you out of your daydream, “Where to today, Snow Goose?”

You pull out a map from a pocket on your back and scan it, looking for any uncharted territory. “Let’s go west today. There’s a big chunk of land that we haven’t documented yet.”

He nods and begins your quest by turning to the left and walking. You follow him, folding the map and keeping it in your hands. Little conversation is shared between the two of you for the first bit of the journey and the silences aren’t awkward. The majority of your time is spent looking up, admiring the scenery as the Sun comes up and illuminates more of the land. Different hues of blue are unearthed as light reaches deeper crevices: the underside of leaves show turquoise veins, the inside of a hollowed tree trunk boasts a purplish-blue hybrid. The puddles on the ground vary in shape, size, depth and color, and are scattered about the ground in an oddly methodical fashion.

After a while of marveling at the sights, you regret getting dressed so quickly. You hadn’t brushed your hair properly, and the braid you had put it in was loose. Rubbing against your helmet with all of your head turning, the braid had fallen almost completely out of his shape and it was threatening to combine with your sweat to mold to your face. You instinctively put your hands to your helmet to try to push it out of your way, but you are met with glass resistance. Ezra, peeking over his broad shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost you, notices your frustration, “Let me help you with that.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and wave off his help, “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” He shook his head quickly and spins on his heels, looking around and spots two conveniently placed tree stumps, one behind the other, that will accommodate te his fantasy. He gestures to them, “Have a seat, Goose.”

You stand there, not wanting to indulge in the dream. This was just as much of a dream for you as it is for Ezra. He watched you, everyday before you went out of the pod, braid your hair and willed that one day it would be his hands that would twist your smooth locks. And everyday you braided your hair, you would envision him standing behind you, concentrating hard on his handiwork, his hot breath cascading down the back of your neck, his knuckles grazing your back. Ezra starts walking over to the stumps and motions for you to follow.

You obey his command and sit down on the seat in front of his, scooting back so that he doesn’t have to reach very far to touch you. A depressing gasp fills the air as you detach your helmet and set it in your lap. Ezra’s gloves appear over your shoulder, “Can you hold these for me?” You were already turned on enough by the thought of him braiding your hair, now he would be braiding your hair with naked fingers and you got to hold the battered material that guarded those impossibly large hands almost everyday? Yeah, this is an illusion. You wait to wake up from your slumber. but are reminded that this situation is very real when Ezra’s fingers reach around your head to brush the sweaty hairs out of your face. His touch is gentle, unlike from the incident a few days ago. Now that you aren’t fighting for your life, you can take in the small, romantic details that you didn’t notice before. The pads of his fingers are rough but not scratchy. You see his fingernails, neatly trimmed and free from any sort of grime. How he pulls off that sorcery while being a prospector, regardless of the gloves, you will never know.

You tense as his fingers glide over your bruised neck, collecting your hair and bringing it all to your back. He holds your hair in one hand while the other stutters on a bruise. He senses your unease and strangles out, “I’m sorry.” You grip his gloves a little tighter, trying to fight your tears from spilling, and shake your head slightly, “It’s okay.” You’re ready to move past it. It’s important to remember that it happened, but you’re ready to rebuild your relationship. Like he jabbed at you the other day, leaving Puggart Bench had been tough for you. You worry that your leaving left behind permanent scars that would impact the relationships you had there. Ezra and Cee feel like the only friendships that you can count on to last. You need them.

Knocking you out of your despair, Ezra pulls your hair to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the other. He turns his head so that his breath spills across your bare neck. He runs a finger lightly across a bruise and asks, mouth millimeters away from your skin, “May I?” You nod, and he plants an imperceptibly light kiss on your neck. You let a tear dribble down your cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it ran.

A thought enters your mind: my god, his lips are soft as fuck. The combination of the softness with the tickling of his patchy facial hair was heavenly, if not orgasmic. You giggle at your own thoughts* (*thots), intriguing Ezra, “What is it?” You decide to be transparent, “Nothing, it’s just that your mouth is soft as fuck.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest, “Now I don’t want to put an end to your seductive observations, Goose, but I want this to be an innocent affair.” You smile and sit up straight, letting him know that you are willing to drop the flirtation. For now.

His fingers separate your hair into three sections and he says, referencing the other day, “As a treaty to our battles, I would like to clarify that I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” A soft smile graces your face and you input your own treatise, “And I don’t think you’re arrogant or fucking pretentious. You are a little devious though.”

He chuckles, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the scoundrel that I am, now would I?”

You shake your head no. No, he wouldn’t be the scoundrel that you are not so secretively in love with. As you sit there, enjoying the limited amount of time you are allowed with your helmet off, the details of your dreams prove to be true: you can feel Ezra’s concentrated breath warm the nape of your neck, his knuckles tap your suit when he twists your hair a certain way. You yearn for the day that you will be able to touch each other, feel each other’s true weight and texture, without the suits getting in the way.

“So, if you’re so good at prospecting, why don’t you tell me how you do it?”

His tone is playful and your situation could not be more peaceful, so you decide to indulge him, “Well, first you have to find a deposit, which is usually indicated by a lump in the ground.”

He verifies your first step, “Uh-huh...?”

“Then you want to pour a solution into the deposit’s hole. You don’t want to pour too much though, or else it could cause an explosion.”

Ezra’s hands stop. You turn and ask him, “Is everything okay?” He nods, his eyes first staring off into the landscape and then refocusing once they land on you. He continues to involuntarily nod as he says, “That’s what permitted Cee and I to escape The Green. She threw an entire pint of solution into a deposit. Nearly blew the entire place to bits.”

You feel rude when you realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock. You close your mouth and words about his time on The Green tumble out of his, “I am devious, indeed. But there were people--beings--there that would make me look like an angel. I take responsibility for killing Cee’s father because he tried to hijack my stash. A man’s work is no petty thing, Goose. I ended up having to kill two others there, in the end. I overestimated our luck after the first one, thinking that it would’ve been a simple escape. I killed the other mercilessly. You see now, Goose, the dangers that I encountered on The Green alone. I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you into harm’s way, and you became a tragedy.”

You reach a hand out and cup his face, which he leans into. He still holds onto your hair, your braid halfway done, and you say, “I was ungrateful, and I’m sorry for that.” He shakes his head once, taking your hand from his face and kissing your palm, “Now you see why I wanted to strangle you in my nightmare. I dreamt that you were someone else, some other thing, that was threatening to drag our trio back to that wretched land.” You both breathe out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Even though it was nervous, you are glad that the both of you are taking some steps in the right direction.

He clears his throat and sits up straight, “Now, after you dodge an eruption, what is the next step of prospecting?”

You face ahead and let him continue your braid as you speak, “Next you want to remove the husk from the deposit, and cut the cord that connects the two. Then you want to remove the inner membrane from the husk.”

He quizzes you, “And what’s inside the inner membrane?”

“The aurelac gem.”

“Correct. Continue.”

“Then you want to cut out any blisters, but if you cut too carelessly you could puncture it, which will release acid. If that happens then the gem ceases to be worth anything.”

“That’s where my expertise usually falters.”

“Finally you want to remove the gem from the inner membrane, douse it in fazer solution, and you have your stone.”

He tests you again, “What is the purpose of the fazer solution?”

“To stabilize the gem and increase its clarity. Higher clarity grants higher payout.”

He pats your shoulder twice and ties your hair off with the hair tie you used for your loose braid, “Fantastic job, Goose. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.” He stands, walks around your stumps and holds a hand out to you. You take it, even though you were perfectly capable of getting up yourself. You got to hand him his gloves, and he stops you, “Wait a minute.” Both of his hands come to the sides of your face and push a few stray hairs behind your ears; the finishing touches to his masterpiece. You can tell he did a good job without having to look at it, since it didn't feel too loose or too tight, and the problem you had before was now solved. His tongue darts out and runs the edge of his bottom lip before he takes a step back, throwing his hands up, “Voila!” You giggle, eliciting a smile from Ezra wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle in happiness. You hand him his gloves, which he puts on before you both secure your helmets back to your suits.

Ezra checks in with Cee, “Everything alright, Sparrow?”

A few seconds pass before she answers, “Yep, just listening to my music. Everything alright on your end?”

“Affirmative. We’ll be staying outside for lunch. Over and out.”

Ezra’s eyes gaze into yours for a brief moment before they move past your shoulder, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You ask, “What?” before turning and following his stare. A patch of undisturbed soil, littered with lumps. In his rush by you, Ezra grabs your hand and pulls you along with him as you run to the potential aurelac deposits, laughing at his enthusiasm. He halts at the brink of the field, choosing which one he wants to dig up first. You suggest, “Why don’t we start from the outside and work our way in?” He nods, “That’s a great idea,” and drops to his knees. You stare at the mound in front of him as you sink down to the ground, pulling out your map. You mark where this field is located as he preps his harvesting tools. Once he’s prepared, he sighs and takes your hand, “Do you want to help me, Goose?”

You nearly spring to your feet with excitement, “Would I ever!”

He beams at your reaction and begins the process by clearing the dirt away from the mound to reveal the deposit. “How about for this first time, you just hand me the tools?” You nod, taking this as slowly as he wants to, “Whatever you’d like.” He grins as he cuts a hole in the deposit, knife already in hand. “Solution,” he requests. You hand him the bottle and he does the honor of pouring it over the deposit. A white steam emits from the hole, and he reaches in and grabs the husk. “Let me cut this cord, you can do the next one.” You agree and watch as he cuts it with his knife. He places the husk on a flat patch of land and requests his next tool, “Scalpel.” You hand him a Ralon Crusader Laser Scalpel and watch him work.

Laser scalpels are primarily used for precision work, like this step and the removal of blisters, while any generic knives will do the job when cutting the cord or opening up the deposit.

You watch as he makes an incision in the husk, handing you back the tool once he’s done. He wrangles the inner membrane out of the husk and holds his hand out. You know that he wants the scalpel back, and you give it to him. He flashes you a smile for your readiness, but then hands you the scalpel back. You take it, confused, and he says, “I’d like you to cut the blisters off of this one.”

Your pupils narrow and your muscles grow tense. You know the steps of prospecting backwards and forwards, but you had never carried out a lab experiment, let alone prospected aurelac in the wild. Ezra lays a gentle hand on your forearm, “I have eternal faith in you, Goose.” You move toward the membrane and turn the scalpel on. Ezra holds it steady for you as you go to remove the blister. There’s only one, which is a slight relief. You plunge the scalpel into the membrane, thinking that the skin would be thicker, and a hiss greets you. You pull back as the membrane deflates and an amber liquid seeps from it, the hissing never stopping. Your mortified eyes look up into Ezra’s and you immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry, Ezra, I thought that-” He raises a hand, “It is not a big deal in the slightest, Goose. I’ve never come across a prospector that didn’t puncture the membrane, or fail to mix the fazer solution correctly the first time.” He senses your lingering humiliation and grabs your shoulders, turning you even more towards himself, “Really, it’s fine.” You want to melt into his hands, crawl into his lap and just hide there until you feel better, but you know that you have to move on.

He points to the mound behind you, “Let’s try that one.” You stay on the ground and move the tools with you, while Ezra stands and walks over before he squats. You hand him the knife, watch him repeat the process and hand him tools as he needs them: slice the deposit, squirt in the solution, remove the husk, sever the cord, open the husk, take the membrane out. He looks to you, “I want you to try again.” Turning the scalpel on, its vibrations feel more vigorous against your heightened nerves than they did last time. Ezra assumes his position of securing the slippery pod, and you begin cutting. Again only one blister, you circle the blemish with the blade. Once the circle is complete, Ezra reminds you, “It’s easiest to pull it off with your fingers.” You follow his directions, turning the instrument off and setting it to the side. You pull on sticky flesh, and the part that you cut comes off easily. Ezra sighs, “Incredible.” Sliding his fingers in between the membrane and the aurelac, he pulls the rock out and discards the pouch. He calls for the fazer solution, which you hand him and watch as he washes the gem with it. Another hissing sound can be heard, much quieter than the one that came when you punctured the membrane. He holds the aurelac up to the blue Sun, and both of you observe, amazed, at how the light shines through the gem. Aurelac is an amber-hued stone, sometimes with ripples in the color, encased in a foggy crystal. The blue light complements the orange shade of the gem exquisitely.

Ezra turns to you, eyes bright with satisfaction, hands muddied with gristle, “Superb job, Goose!” He leans into you, helmet shields touching and reaches forward to kiss your glass. You smile and laugh with him in gratification. You can’t wait to harvest the rest of the mounds with your partner.

A warmth you have never felt before bestows itself to you this early morning. It flourishes in your heart and subsequently pumps through your body, reaching from the crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet. It stretches from your ribs to the ends of your fingertips, running in cycles back and forth. The cause of this pleasure was not from the large aurelac haul you had pulled yesterday, but from the man that you harvested with. Ezra’s arms encircle you, heavy with sleep. You’re swaddled in his blankets with him, the depths of sleep tempting you to fall back down to their level of subconscious. The Sun hasn’t risen yet.

You had crawled into Ezra’s awaiting lap after Cee had fallen asleep the night before. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to hide your feelings from her, but the dynamic still made you feel a little bit awkward, even with Ezra’s reassurance and Cee’s encouragement to pursue him. You would feel more comfortable if she were to wake up and find the two of you in your designated sleeping arrangements, and not in an amorous yet innocent entanglement of limbs.

You can practically feel a rainbow sprout from your chest as you look up at Ezra, finding delight in his relaxed expression. His hair is messy not from the tossing and turning of a restless night’s sleep, but the enamored strokes of a yearning partner’s fingers. The whirlwind of malachite butterflies in your stomach nudges you away from sleep. You press your hands into Ezra’s chest, where they have been resting, and turn to nuzzle your nose into his collarbone before you start to slip out of his embrace. Gently lifting his arms off of you in an effort to keep him asleep, you fail. He cups the side of your face and rubs his thumb back and forth against your cheek a few times before he lets his arm fall to his side. He gives you a smile of understanding, allowing you to leave him only because he will dream about holding onto you for forever once he drifts off again. You give him a playful boop on his nose before you stand and trudge over to your pilot’s chair, sinking down into your own cold blankets. You try your best to recreate the heat you just deserted by bundling yourself up tight, but it’s not the same. However uncomfortable, you quickly succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The true morning gives rise to an energetic group of prospectors. Still joyful about yesterday’s collection, you, Cee and Ezra are enthusiastic to stroll around The Blue again and see what else could be in store for you. Stretching in your chair, Ezra grabs your raised hands and leans over the back of your seat. You look up into his eyes and he greets you, “Good morning, Goose.” You smile and tease, “Good morning, Magpie.”

Cee blurts out, “Finally, you give her a nickname too!” You and Ezra laugh as he releases your hands, and you turn to face Cee at her equipment hatch. “I like Magpie too. Very fitting,” she raises an eyebrow at Ezra and he shoots you a wink. You get up to fold your blanket, Ezra glides over to his own equipment hatch, and Cee says, “You know, I say you guys last night.” Your face instantly beats red, and Cee notices, “No, it’s fine. It makes me happy to see a couple that can get over obstacles and love each other through it all.” You still feel a bit embarrassed, but shrug it off.

A word she chose makes you question Ezra, “Are we a couple?”

“Of course. We’ve always been partners, haven’t we?”

Suited up, the three of you enter The Blue. After your daily assessment of the land (beautiful, as always) you turn to Cee and wait for her direction. She had mapped out the majority of the Blue Moon the day that you and Ezra stayed inside the pod, so you trusted her guidance the most. Ezra asks, “Where to today, birdies?” Cee analyzes the map before pointing to an area, “This block was filled with hills. It didn’t look like there were many deposits, but then again I’m not the best at spotting them.” Eager to start, you ask, “Which way do we go?” Ezra glances at the map, points to the right and commences your expedition, “This is the way.”

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