#wonder how she'd feel about this one then

[rvp32]

Mother's Love

This was a commission but I got permission to post it. It is probably the work that took me the longest to write because of how much research. It is very new concept to me and I don't know how well I portrayed it. Please let me know what you guys think.

Warning: Heavy Incest

You gazed longingly at the framed photo on your nightstand - your mother in her prime, radiant smile beaming at the camera. With a guilty pang, you reached for it, fingertips tracing her outline. You knew it was wrong but couldn't stop the flood of inappropriate thoughts.

Just then, a gentle knock at your bedroom door made you jump. "Honey, are you okay? You've been awfully quiet tonight," your mother's concerned voice said.

Hastily, you shoved the photo under your pillow. "I-I'm fine, Mom," you called back, voice cracking slightly. "Just tired from work."

"Alright, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything." Her footsteps retreated down the hall.

You let out a shaky breath, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that she hadn't come in. Retrieving the photo and pulling your pants back on you headed out.  To your surprise, the door wasn’t closed but you were happy that she hadn’t seen what you were doing. 

Hey Mom, what are you doing back home so soon? I thought you were meeting Auntie Yoona and Yuri today. 

“I was baby, but we decided to call it a day fast because I didn’t want to leave you home alone for so long,” Seohyun says. 

This wasn’t anything new for your mother as she has always been very protective of you but what you found much more weird was the fact that your mother hasn’t tried to hug you yet. She loved hugs and that’s the first thing she always did when she saw you. 

It was a little surprising because you also loved those hugs, using them as a chance to hold her curvy body in between your arms, feel her breasts squeeze up against you, and the scent of Vanilla from her hair. 

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should bring up the lack of a hug. But before you can say anything, Seohyun speaks again.

"Sweetie, why don't you come sit with me on the couch? We need to talk about something."

Her tone is serious, and you feel a twinge of anxiety in your stomach. You follow her to the living room, watching as she settles onto the sofa. She pats the spot next to her, and you sit down, noticing how she keeps a bit more distance between you than usual.

"What's going on, Mom?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Seohyun takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours. "I've noticed what you were doing in your room earlier. I think we should address this."

Your heart races, and you feel a rush of heat on your face. You hadn't realized she'd seen anything. You try to swallow, but your mouth has gone dry.

"I... I don't know what you mean," you stammer, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know it's a feeble attempt at denial.

Seohyun's expression softens slightly, but her eyes remain serious. "Sweetie, I know this is uncomfortable, but we need to be honest with each other. I saw you looking at those pictures on your computer. The ones of... me."

Your stomach drops. You'd thought you were being so careful, always clearing your browser history, never leaving any traces. But somehow, she'd caught you.

"Mom, I can explain," you begin, but you're not sure how to continue. How do you explain the feelings you've been grappling with, the confusion and desire that have been tormenting you for months? How do you tell your mother that you've developed feelings for her that go far beyond what's appropriate?

Seohyun takes a step closer, and you instinctively back away until you feel the wall behind you. You're trapped, both physically and emotionally.

"Honey, I'm not angry," she says softly. "I'm just... concerned. And a little confused. Can you help me understand what's going on?"

You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear. But you know you can't avoid this conversation any longer. With a shaky breath, you open your eyes and meet her gaze but close them again.

"I don't know how it happened," you whisper. "I've tried to fight it, to ignore these feelings, but I can't. Mom, I... I think I'm in love with you."

Your eyes remain closed as you take a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the pounding of your heart. 

"I... I don't know how to explain it," you finally manage. Your voice comes out as barely more than a whisper. "It's not something I chose or wanted. These feelings just... developed over time."

You open your eyes to see your mother's face etched with worry. She reaches out and gently touches your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you.

"When did this start?" Seohyun asks.

"I'm not sure exactly. Maybe a few months ago? At first, I tried to ignore it, to push the thoughts away. But they kept coming back stronger." 

You look down, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Mom. I know it's wrong. I've tried to get rid of them but no matter what I tried, I always ended up back where I started. 

You feel your mother's hand gently squeeze your arm. "Sweetheart, look at me," she says softly. You slowly raise your eyes to meet hers, expecting to see disappointment or disgust. Instead, her gaze is filled with understanding and compassion.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Seohyun says firmly. "Your feelings are valid, even if they're complicated. I'm glad you felt you could open up to me about this."

She pulls you into a warm embrace. You relax into her arms, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. 

"Why don't we sit down and talk more?" your mother suggests. "I want to understand what you're going through."

The both of you sit down and you begin to tell her what you have been doing, Seohyun listens without saying a single word, sitting next to you with her legs folded. 

“Mom, are you sure it's fine for me to keep going? I know this isn’t what you expected from me.” 

All of a sudden, Seohyun pushes your back onto the couch.

“Baby you have no idea how much I have held myself back.  Just hearing how you feel about me made me feel so wet, Look” 

Seohyun holds you down with your hands above your head,  and moves her pelvis closer to your face, showing you the wet spot on her leggings. 

Shocked would be an understatement of how you were feeling right now, you couldn’t get any words out. 

“Your body is so fucking perfect baby, I love skinny men, and you are just the perfect size for me unlike your father, so fat and ugly he is. I am so happy that you are nothing like him, baby.” 

She traces your body, her fingers lingering over your collarbone and shoulder. 

“Your body is just so perfect for a goddess like me. Look at how sexy I am, my body is literal perfection and it deserves to be worshipped doesn’t it.” Seohyun asks. 

All you can do is nod. 

“That’s a good boy. Now stay still for mommy,” Seohyun says as she lets go of your hands and takes off her leggings along with those panties. 

“Fuck Mommy, your body is so perfect. Those legs and lovely shaved pussy,” You say as you admire her body.  

“I know baby” 

“Mommy can you come kiss me please! I wanna hold your face and enjoy this moment,” 

Seohyun obliges and kisses her son, a deep and passionate one. Tongues fighting with each other but Seohyun’s winning. 

After what felt like hours, she pulls away from you. “Give your hands baby,” 

You oblige, Seohyun ties your hands together with her leggings. 

“Mommy, why are you tying my hands,” You ask, surprised and also annoyed because you wanted to hold her and feel her perfect body. 

“Yes baby, I am the one in control here and you will do anything I say won’t you, my pretty boy?”

“Yes Mommy, I will be a good boy for you,” you reply all your worries from earlier disappearing. All you wanted to do was make your mommy happy. 

Your mother's pussy was now right in front of your face, a few inches away from your mouth. You had dreamed about such a day, the smell was so perfect, a little hint of her sweat but that made it more addicting. 

You put your tongue out trying to get a taste of her pussy but you were stopped by your hair being pulled. 

“Did I tell you to lick my pussy?” Seohyun says. In the same voice, she uses when you do something stupid. 

“No…” you were shocked by her tone but something about the way she was controlling you was turning you on in a way that you didn’t know was possible. 

“Good, you will only do things that I say, anything more or anything less you will be punished okay? Pretty boy,”

“Yes Mommy,” You liked how this situation turned out even more now. You were always a submissive guy so this was a dream come true.

“Now, go ahead and have a taste of this heavenly pussy,” Seohyun allows you. Wanting to savor the moment, you take a deep breath of her scent and dive into it. Her pussy tasted amazing, it was sweet and addictive. 

You licked her pussy as your life depended on it, occasionally flicking your tongue against her clit. Seohyun’s moans filled the room. It was like music to your ears. 

Seohyun grabbed onto your hair pulling it and the pain is making this pleasure even better. 

“Fuck, baby boy, keep going! You are going to make Mommy cum, keep going. Don’t you dare fucking stop? Keep fucking going baby!” Seohyun screamed. Her pleasure was getting to her. 

Soon after, Seohyun goes over the edge, squirting all over your face, her thighs crushing your head. You lick up every single drop of it. 

“You did such an amazing job baby boy! Mommy should reward you for being such a good boy. Don’t move and let mommy take care of you” 

Seohyun pulls down your pants and out comes your hard cock. Amazed by its sheer size.”I didn’t know you grew so much, baby.” 

She wraps her hand around your cock slowly pumping it. Her hands felt so perfect around your cock, the warmth of her hands so perfect. 

“Mommy, that feels so good!” You moan. 

Your moans were like music to Seohyun’s ears, she wanted to hear more. So she gives your cock a little kiss on the tip before putting it into her mouth, her head bobbing as her tongue works its way around the tip.

It was a struggle to not cum within a few seconds. It took all the concentration you had but it was getting too much. You try to stop her with your hands and it works but to your dismay, your mother's eyes meet yours and she isn’t happy. 

A sudden sting on your cheek brings you back to reality, Seohyun had just slapped you. “WHAT THE FUCK Mom!” 

But the only reply you get is another slap.

“What did I tell you? I told you to stay still, didn’t I?” 

You were stunned but replied, “You did, I’m sorry Mommy it was getting too much for me,”

“I know baby but mommy wants your cum, you will give it to her won’t you?” Seohyun says, her puppy eyes staring into yours. 

“Yes Mommy, Anything for you,” You didn’t have it in you to say no to anything that she asked for especially when she used those puppy eyes. 

She restarted her assault on your cock and this time she was dead set on making you cum. Her head bobbing so fast, this time you did your best to keep your hands above. 

“Hnghh, Mommy I’m cumming!!” 

Seohyun speeds up and within a few seconds, you cum down her throat. This was probably the strongest orgasm that you have ever had. It was mind-numbing to you. Seohyun swallowed every single drop of your cum. 

“Mhmm that was quite the load you were saving up for me, baby.” 

The orgasm had hit you like a truck and you were recovering slowly from it. “Amazing Mommy, that was the best orgasm that I’ve ever had,” 

“I know baby, and this is just the beginning we haven’t even got to the main event yet.” 

“Oh yeah? I can’t wait to see how much better the main event is going to be Mommy.”

“Let me ride my baby boy, I want to feel your cock stretching out my tight pussy.” Seohyun says. Stradling your body and lining your cock. 

She teases you, not putting it in, rubbing your cock on her pussy coating it with her juices. You wanted to put it in so badly but you knew better than to be impatient, but there was only so much you could take. 

“Mommy, please put it in,” you beg.

She obliges, slowly sliding your cock into her tight pussy, this is what you imagined heaven would feel like. 

“Fuck! Baby, your big fat cock is stretching me out so good, I miss this feeling so fucking much, your tiny dick father could never stretch me like this,” Seohyun moaned, her hands gripping onto your chest as she adjusted to your length.

“Mommy your pussy is so fucking tight!” You moaned. 

Seohyun was riding you like there was no tomorrow, the pleasure slowly taking over her brain and ignoring your hands that were now groping at her perfect tits. 

Everything was so perfect. Your mother continued to ride you as you played with her tits. One of her hands rubbing her clit. 

The sight of your cock going in and out of your mother's pussy was addicting, Your mother loved it just as much as you, she loved it a lot more. Her hips were moving in ways that you didn’t know were possible and that was bringing you closer to your orgasm. 

With how much your dick was twitching inside Seohyun’s pussy she knew that you wouldn’t be able to last longer but she couldn’t have that, not when she hasn’t even cum yet. 

You felt Seohyun slap you, it wasn’t like the one before this one was harder, before you could protest another one landed. You were shocked. 

“Mommy, what did I do?” You questioned. 

“Nothing baby, I just didn’t want you to cum so soon. Mommy is close but you have to make her cum more than once. She desperately misses sex,” Seohyun moaned as her nails dug into your arms. 

The pain really helped get your mind off your orgasm but you were enjoying the pain, it was different, it felt perfect receiving pain from the one woman you loved more than yourself.

“Mommy’s cumming baby boy, pound her hard and fast, don’t you dare fucking cum or stop until I say so,” Seohyun instructs and you do exactly that. There wasn’t much gap between Seohyun and the bed but you did your best to pound into her and she was enjoying it. 

After a few seconds of hard pounding, Seohyun pulls your cock out of her pussy and squirts all over your body. It was a strong one given how much squirt was on your body and also how long it took your mother to recover from it. 

As soon as she recovers from her orgasm, she begins chasing her next one, hoping it is stronger than the last, her dominant side takes over and she begins choking you all while still riding you.

The lack of oxygen and the tightness of Seohyun’s pussy was bringing you dangerously close to your orgasm. 

‘Mommy-” Before you can warn your mother, your cum, squirting your seed into the depths of your mother's tight pussy. 

“Oh my God, what a naughty boy you are. Cumming inside me without permission. Since this is your first time. I am going to let this go.” 

Seohyun stays on your cock for a few more seconds before finally getting off. A glob of your semen leaks out of her freshly fucked pussy. Seohyun is a little surprised by this. 

“Oh my! Were you trying to get your mother pregnant? Look at how much cum you dumped in my pussy,” Seohyun says before bending down to lick up the glob of cum that leaked out of her pussy. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” you reply, a little guilty for cumming inside of her without her permission. 

“Haha, don’t take it seriously. I was just kidding. Go on clean up. Your father might be coming home earlier than expected today,” Seohyun says before untying your hands and walking toward the master bedroom.

Heading your mother’s warning, you pick up your clothes and head to your room to wash up. Just as your mother had predicted, your father returned an hour after your sex session. 

**********

The next few days were uneventful. Neither of you spoke about what had happened that night. Maybe it was because both of you were avoiding the responsibility of confronting the situation, but more than anything, it seemed like your father’s presence at home gave you both an excuse to ignore it. He had taken a few days off, and the house was unusually busy with him being around.

You spent most of your time outside, either at the gym or hanging out at a friend’s place, unable to bear the sight of your father acting all affectionate with your mother. For some reason, it rubbed you the wrong way—seeing them that way, so close and content, stirred something uncomfortable deep within you.

One afternoon, you came home to find your mother sitting at your desk, using your computer. Before you could see what she was looking at, she quickly closed all the windows and got up, leaving the room without a word. It was strange—completely out of character for her. She had never gone through your things before, much less without asking your permission.

Shrugging it off, you spent the next few hours immersed in your video games. When dinner time rolled around, you went downstairs. Dinner proceeded as usual, with the usual exchanges between your parents. Just as you were beginning to let your guard down, something unexpected happened: beneath the table, your mother’s foot slowly slid onto your lap.

Her toes pressed against your groin.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your body tensed involuntarily. It was difficult not to react, especially with your father sitting right next to her, obliviously eating. She didn’t look at you, not once, her expression calm and composed as if nothing unusual was happening.

That was the only noteworthy event of the evening. Afterward, things seemed to return to normal—as normal as they could be.

************

The following evening, the air in the house felt unusually heavy. You kept thinking about the small, strange moments you had shared with your mother over the last few days—moments you didn’t know how to interpret.

Later that night, when you were in your room, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you heard the faintest sound of anklets jingling from outside your door.

The door creaked open, and there she stood—your mother, Seohyun, bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light. But tonight, she wasn’t dressed in her usual attire. She was wearing an intricate Indian outfit—a flowing saree draped elegantly over her body. The rich fabric shimmered as she stepped into the room, each movement accompanied by the soft chime of her anklets.

Her bare feet carried silver toe rings that glinted under the low light, and a thin chain rested delicately around her waist, adorned with a small stomach ring that peeked from beneath the edge of her saree. She wore a nose ring—simple yet striking—and it enhanced the sharpness of her features. She looked both foreign and familiar, like a dream plucked from the depths of your subconscious. 

Your heart pounded as she closed the door quietly behind her, locking it with a soft click.

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. There was no mistaking the intent behind her gaze—she knew exactly what she was doing.

How did she know? How had she figured out your fascination with Indian attire?

Before you could gather your thoughts, she crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, her anklets jingling with every movement. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood clung to her skin, intoxicating. She knelt beside you, her fingers brushing lightly against your hand.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore,” she whispered, leaning closer. "I know."

 The room felt still, as though time had slowed. Your gaze traveled over her form, taking in every detail—the way the saree’s fabric clung to her curves, the shimmer of silver jewelry against her pale skin, and the way she carried herself with quiet grace.

Seohyun tilted her head slightly, her anklet chiming softly as she shifted her weight. "Do you like what you see?" she asked gently, her voice carrying warmth and curiosity as if she truly wanted to know what was in your heart.

You swallowed, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Yes... Goddess.” The word slipped from your lips without hesitation, as if it had always belonged there. It wasn’t just admiration—it was reverence, an acknowledgment of the deep, unspoken emotions that had grown over time. You weren’t merely looking at your mother; you were gazing at someone you now saw as something more—someone extraordinary.

A soft smile spread across her lips, filled with both amusement and understanding. She didn’t laugh at you or dismiss the way you had addressed her. Instead, she stood quietly, as if waiting for you to express what had been unspoken between the two of you.

You knelt in front of her, overwhelmed by the desire to honor her presence. With a deep breath, you lowered your head and kissed her feet. The cool metal of her toe rings brushed against your skin, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air. It wasn’t about submission; it was about devotion.

She rested her hand lightly on your head, her touch soft and reassuring. "You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Mommy’s here."

Raising your head slowly, you gazed up at her. "I... I want to honor you, Goddess. To cherish every part of you."

Her expression softened, and she brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. "Then honor me," she said simply, her voice steady and kind.

You sat quietly at her feet as you traced her body from her toes to her magnificent thighs. She stayed with you, the jingling of her anklets becoming a familiar, soothing sound. It felt as if the unspoken tension of the past days had finally lifted, replaced by something far more profound—a bond deeper than words, built on mutual respect and quiet admiration.

A rush of emotions surged through you—so many that it was difficult to sort them all out. Reverence, gratitude, admiration… but above all, an overwhelming sense of peace. It was as if the storm raging inside you for days had finally quieted, replaced by clarity.

Every small detail seemed magnified: the cool metal of her toe rings, the soft chime of her anklets, the smoothness of her skin beneath your touch. Your heart pounded, not with fear, but with a deep sense of purpose. Worshipping her wasn’t just an act—it felt like the truest way to express what words never could.

You marveled at her grace, the way the flowing fabric of her saree traced her silhouette like art in motion. Every inch of her felt like a masterpiece—each curve, each subtle movement speaking of beauty beyond the physical. It was not just about her appearance, but the aura she carried: the quiet strength, the kindness, the elegance that she exuded so effortlessly.

As your fingers brushed along her anklets, a strange warmth bloomed within you—something between awe and humility. You felt small in her presence, but not in a diminished way. It was the kind of smallness you might feel while standing beneath a starry sky, or gazing at a powerful painting—something grand, humbling, yet strangely comforting.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at her, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in her eyes—an understanding, perhaps, of what this moment meant to you. There was no awkwardness, no shame, only a quiet acceptance between the two of you.

Touching her feet, tracing the delicate rings she wore, filled you with a sense of connection that went deeper than any conversation ever could. It was as though you were communicating without words, speaking in gestures and glances, your emotions laid bare in the simplest of touches.

And as you gazed up at her, you felt a sense of belonging—like you were exactly where you were meant to be. In that quiet, sacred space, nothing else mattered. The world outside could wait. All that existed now was her, standing before you, radiant and serene.

The first thing you noticed was how soft and smooth her skin felt beneath your touch—like fine silk, cool yet welcoming. Her feet were elegant, with well-formed arches that gave them a graceful shape. The pale skin had a slight sheen, catching the soft light in the room. A light floral scent, perhaps from lotion or oil, lingered faintly, making the experience even more soothing.

Her toes were slender, each adorned with delicate silver rings that rested comfortably against her skin, their smooth surfaces cool under your fingertips. The rings glinted subtly, adding an extra layer of beauty to her already mesmerizing presence. Her nails were neatly trimmed and painted a soft shade of pink—simple yet refined, perfectly complementing the quiet elegance she carried.

The anklets wrapped around her slim ankles jingled gently with every movement, creating a rhythmic, calming sound. You felt the subtle weight of the anklets as you rested your forehead against her feet, the tiny charms brushing lightly against your skin.

Her soles were soft but carried a slight firmness from the natural wear of walking barefoot—enough to remind you of her strength without diminishing her delicacy. As your fingertips traced lightly along the curve of her heel, you noticed how her skin gave just a little under your touch, a perfect balance between tender and resilient.

There was warmth in her touch as she rested one foot against your hands as if to say she accepted your reverence. The slight pressure of her foot was neither heavy nor intrusive—just enough to make you feel grounded, connected, and fully present in the moment. 

As the quiet moment lingered, she reached out, her hand gently cupping your face with a softness that seemed to erase all your doubts. She looked at you, her eyes filled with warmth and a silent understanding, before leaning down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. Her closeness filled you with a sense of calm, and you felt yourself relax under her gentle touch.

She moved closer, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as she brought her lips to yours in a delicate, almost tentative kiss. The touch was gentle, warm, and filled with a kindness that made your heartache. Her lips were soft, and the kiss was unhurried as if she wanted to savor every moment, every shared breath. It wasn’t about passion or intensity; it was about the quiet connection you both shared—a bond that felt comforting, familiar, and deeply rooted.

As she leaned in, the first kiss was soft and slow, but it quickly deepened, as if an unspoken energy had sparked between you both. Her hand slid up to your neck, fingers tracing lightly over your skin as her lips pressed to yours with more intensity. There was a hint of laughter in her eyes, a playful spark that made you feel like she was daring you to follow her lead.

Suddenly, she broke away, her fingers slipping from yours as she backed away with a teasing smile. She took a step backward, her gaze inviting you to follow. And then, with a quiet laugh, she turned and glided into the next room, her steps light and graceful. You didn’t hesitate—you chased after her, catching up just as she leaned back against the doorway, waiting for you with that same mischievous smile.

Your hands found hers, pulling her close as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. The kiss was bolder this time, filled with an urgency that neither of you had fully realized until now. She pulled back again, just enough to make you chase her once more, her laughter echoing softly as she led you through the house.

In each room, you caught up to her, drawing her close as her fingers tangled in your hair, her lips meeting yours in passionate, lingering kisses that left you breathless. Her touch was tender, but her gaze was filled with a warmth that felt like both an invitation and a challenge.

Room by room, she led you, each time letting you catch her, only to playfully slip away with a smile that kept your pulse racing. Her laughter, her smile, her closeness—all of it filled you with a joy that felt deeper than words. You both moved in harmony, drawn together by the same unspoken connection, until finally, you reached a quiet space where you held each other, both breathless, both smiling, as you shared one last kiss filled with warmth and affection before Seohyun broke the silence.

“What a good boy you are. Seeing how much you were worshipping my feet, maybe I should give you a footjob,” Seohyun suggested. 

“Please Mommy”

“Take off your clothes for me,” Seohyun commanded, her tone unchanged but her voice sounded hypnotizing. 

You do exactly that, in a hurry, ripping pieces of our clothing away from your body. Seohyun admires your body like an artwork. She closes the gap between the both of you but the kiss you were expecting doesn’t come, instead she pushes you onto the bed. 

Seohyun follows you onto the bed. Her back rested against the headboard. “Come to me.” 

Seohyun’s thighs wrapping your body and her feet reach your hardened cock. The cold metal of her toe ring creates a novel sensation on your cock. Her anklet occasionally touches your thighs making a jingling sound. 

“Spit on your cock for me,” Seohyun commands. 

She spreads your spit all over your cock and she begins giving you a footjob. This was your first footjob, you never expected it to feel this good. The sound of her anklet ringing throughout the entire room. 

You were trying your best not to moan so soon. The kisses she was placing on your neck were distracting you from your rising orgasm. Her legs were moving in perfect motion giving you the most amount of pleasure. The sound of her anklet hypnotized you into a trance where pleasure was all you could think about. 

The orgasm that you were trying so hard to stop was now unstoppable, her hips unconsciously thrusting into your mother's feet. Seohyun noticed this and also how much your cock was throbbing. 

When you were almost at your peak, Seohyun pulled her feet away from your cock, leaving you completely devoid of any touch. 

“MOMMYY! I was just about to cum!” You whine, your voice filled with frustration. 

“I know baby but we don’t want this to end so soon now do we?” 

After a few seconds, Seohyun’s feet wrap around your cock again but this time they don’t move. “Mommy, pleaseeee” 

“If you want it so badly then why not fuck my feet then?” Seohyun suggests. Initially, you were a little reluctant because of how embarrassing it was but your lust eventually got the best of you. You began humping your mother's feet slowly. 

The pleasure and pace increase with every thrust. Eventually, the orgasm that had subsided was now within your reach. “Mommy, your feet feel so good. I’m gonna cum soon!” You moan. 

But again you were deprived of your release. “Mommy!” you scream and get out of her embrace.  

“Don’t be so impatient baby, your mommy will let you cum so be a good boy and keep humping my feet,” Seohyun says. 

Though you weren’t particularly happy about it you still enjoyed how good your mother’s feet felt around your cock. You went back to thrusting your cock in between her soft feet. Increasing your pace with every thrust, trying to chase your orgasm again not caring about how your mother would react to your disobedience. 

Seohyun could feel your thrusts getting more erratic, the way you were grunting turned your mother her hand playing with her clothed pussy but you were too preoccupied to notice it. 

The sudden increase in pace from earlier signaled to your soon impending orgasm but you were brought back to reality by a sharp slap, your cheek stinging. Seohyun grabs you by your hair, pulling you close to her. 

“You want to be a naughty boy? Do you know what happens to naughty boys?” 

You nod in reply. 

Seohyun yanks your hair again, “Use your pretty words, or are you so stupid that you can’t give me a proper reply?” 

“They get punished,” you reply. 

“Yes, they get punished. Stay here,” Seohyun says before leaving you alone in the room. 

The suspense was killing you, lying there on your bed completely naked. Not knowing what kind of punishment is awaiting you. The silence is broken by the sound of your mother’s anklet jingling echoing throughout the house. 

Seohyun returns to the room with a Whip in her hand, a small one but it was intimidating you a lot more than you would like to admit. You had never been hit before at least not like this. 

“Turn around, I wanna see that skinny ass of yours,” Seohyun commands. You do exactly as she asks.  

You could feel the coolness of the whip as it slides over your ass, and then you are struck, it wasn’t hard but enough to send a stinging sense of pain. 

“Hngh,” You let out a sound, trying your best not to scream. 

Surprisingly your dick was throbbing, the pain that was supposed to scare you was giving you pleasure. 

Another one but this type on your upper back, much harder than the previous one, you moaned out in pain. She continued to whip you, sometimes lightly, sometimes hard, but you loved every single one, crazing more. 

“Turn around,” and so you do 

Your mother immediately notices the massive boner that you were sporting and also the precum that was leaking from the tip of your penis. 

“Oh my what a naughty little slut you are, you were enjoying all this whipping?” Seohyun asks but you are too shy to reply. 

“I can’t believe that I’ve got a painslut on my hands,” Seohyun coos you as she leans in to kiss you. Both your bodies were covered with sweat, Seohyun’s body sliding against yours as she leaned into the kiss and onto your body. 

“My ideal man, you are the perfect man for me, your skinny body, your love for pain, and your fat cock, it’s meant for me and only me,” Seohyun whispers after cupping your face.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore,” Soehyun says before aligning herself on your cock and slowly sinking into it. 

“THIS IS IT! This is the best fucking feeling ever. Your fat cock stretched my pussy so fucking good baby boy” Seohyun moans as her ass sits flat on your pelvis with your cock buried deep inside her tight pussy. 

Her pussy was just as you remember it, the closest thing to perfection. It was gripping onto your cock with the perfect amount of pressure. Seohyun’s sweat drips onto your face as she adjusts to your length. The room was too hot for the both of you but you couldn’t care more about the heat outside because the heat inside of you was burning you up and you needed your mother to feel just how much you loved her. 

“Mommy, please can you start moving, I don’t know how much longer I can stay like this,” You beg, Seohyun obliges your request and begins to slowly move her hips.

“Fuck!” You moan.

“Yes, this is it! Don’t you dare fucking cum this time without my permission,” Seohyun said as her ass bounced on your cock. The sound of wet bodies colliding with each other and her jewelry bouncing echoed throughout the room.

Seohyun’s tits bouncing right in front of you, mesmerizing. You grab onto them, and your hands sink into them, soft as feathery pillows. Using one of your hands you pinch one of her nipples that were as hard as rocks. With just one twist, your mother’s pussy tightened around you catching you off guard and almost making you cum. 

“You like that mommy? When I play with your sensitive nipples?” Seohyun yelps with increased pleasure. 

“I wonder if is squeeze hard enough, will milk come out Mommy?” you ask and pinch harder. 

“Hngh fuck! Mommy loves it baby keep going. Fuck a baby into me and I will give you all the milk you need my pretty boy,” Seohyun replies, the pleasure slowly getting to her.

Her grinding slows down, you take this as a chance to start thrusting into her. She was shocked by your sudden movements but she loved it, her moans grew louder almost sounding like screams. 

“Yes, that’s it! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” your mother screamed one last time before cumming and squirting all over your body. Her back bending in pure bliss, incoherent words spilling out of her mouth. Some of her squirt got into your mouth but you relished the sweetness of her juices.

Your cock was resting and throbbing on your abdomen as Seohyun recovered from the mind-shattering orgasm that she just had. Your breathing still labored from the intense pounding you just gave your mother.

“That was the best orgasm that I’ve ever had baby boy. Now it’s your turn, I can see your cock throbbing and begging for a release,” Seohyun says as she gets off you. 

“Now come and fuck your mommy till you cum deep inside her pussy and breed her,” Seohyun commands. 

Taking up her invitation. This was the first time that you were on top and had any sort of control in the bedroom with your mother. You lined yourself up and rubbed the entrance of her pussy and slapped your cock on her her clit occasionally. 

“I’m putting it in Mommy,” You warn her, slowly pushing into her. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle baby, Go ahead and fuck me like I am nothing but a fleshlight! Use your mommy and dump your cum into my fertile baby-making womb,” Seohyun moans.

You bottom out into her and start pounding without waiting for another second. The warmth and tightness brought back the orgasm that had subsided earlier. You were pounding hard and fast. Seohyun’s tits bouncing with every thrust. 

The bouncing tits were enticing you to grab them but all of a sudden something came over your mind and you give her boobs a hard slap causing a stinging sensation for Seohyun. 

“Yes just like that use me however you want! This body is your baby!” Your mother screamed loving the stinging sensation. 

You continue to give her boobs a few more hard slaps, her white pale skin was now bright red, and Seohyun’s eyes rolled to the back of her head with the immense pleasure she was feeling. Her mouth was open and spit drooling out without any control. 

It was only a matter of a few more seconds before you could no longer hold back and from the looks of it your mother was also closing in on another orgasm. Your thrusts grew more erratic.

“Fuck I’m cumming!” You scream. 

Seohyun can feel you pulling out and she can’t have that, she wraps her legs around your body caging you and keeping your cock buried deep inside her pussy. “Don’t you dare even think of trying to pull out? I need your hot cum filling up my tight pussy.” 

“THIS IS IT! FUCKK! Your cum is so fucking hot, it’s like my inside is being burned!” 

You were out of it, the pleasure from the orgasm was beyond what you had ever felt, it was destroying your brain, completely destroying your ability to form any thoughts or sentences. The only sound in the room was your grunts as you shot your last few spurts of cum. 

It took you a good few minutes before you were finally able to comprehend what you had just done and how perfect this moment was. 

“How are you feeling baby?” Your mother asked as she felt you slowly trying to pull out. 

“That was perfect mommy! But is it really okay for me to be cumming inside you like this? What if you get pregnant?” You question 

“That’s exactly what I want. I want to carry your baby” Seohyun says.  

The words that had just come out of your mother’s mouth were beyond shocking, it wasn’t something you had ever expected to hear. It took you a few seconds to process what you had just heard. 

“But what about father, what about everyone else no one will accept this!” You screamed, panic setting in. 

“It’s okay baby, We can run away from all this to a far-away country where no one knows the both of us. We can get married and enjoy the life we want.” Seohyun says. This is what you wanted but you needed to be realistic about it because starting a completely new life would be extremely hard. 

“It’s too difficult, I don’t even have enough money to support us for a month.” You retort. 

“Money is not of concern, baby. I’ve been making arrangements for a while now. I have more than enough to last us through the rest of our lives,” 

“How? I thought Dad paid for everything.” You questioned. 

“That’s a story for another time. Tell me, don’t you want to marry your mother and run away from this mess.”  

“I do, I want that so badly but I’m scared. I don’t know what will happen and I don’t want you to get hurt,” You reply 

“Don’t worry baby, we can figure it all out. I know that you would never hurt me intentionally,” Seohyun replies. 

The sweetness in her words flicked a switch in your mind. You knew you wanted this but those words gave you the push you so desperately needed. 

You kiss her, it is an innocent kiss filled with love and passion. Both your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. Something about this kiss felt perfect. 

If it wasn’t for the need to breathe the kiss would have gone on for much longer, you pull away from your mother, your forehead still on hers, lips mere centimeters away from each other. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Seohyun says and all you can do is nod, not finding the right words to express your love and gratitude. 

After laying together for a few seconds, you get up to admire your mother’s perfect body, from her perfect chubby face to her firm tits, to her perfectly sculpted stomach, and then to her pussy which had your cum leaking. 

The sight of your cum leaking from her pussy turned you on again and within no time you were hard again. Seohyun notices this. “Oh my, being young truly is an amazing gift. You aren’t satisfied even after all the things we just did” 

“Sorry, Mommy I will take care of it,” You reply but are pulled back into bed by your mother. 

“You will do no such thing. As long as I am here, the only one who gets to milk a load of cum from you is me, and only me. So come here and fuck your mother again but this time I want to do it in the washroom while we shower.”

Taking her up on the invitation you pick her up from the bed, her legs wrapped around your body, face to face with you. You line yourself up with her pussy and slide it in, there was almost no resistance given how wet and cum filled it was. 

You start thrusting up slowly, her moans filling up the room. While still thrusting, you slowly walk toward the washroom. 

The both of you were still sensitive from the last time, so you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Seohyun turns the shower on with one of the hands that was wrapped around your neck. The hot water hits your back, your thrusts increase in pace. Seohyun’s body is now pressed in between the wall and your body. 

Your mother’s pussy was tightening around you, her nails digging into the back of your neck, and the hot water causing a stinging pain. 

“I can’t hold on much longer baby, please let’s cum together, I need you to fill up your mother's tight pussy again! I beg you!” Seohyun scream. 

Your thrusts growing more erratic and harsh, not caring about anything or than your orgasm. Seohyun ends up cumming a little earlier than you and a few seconds after her you follow, flooding her pussy full of all the cum that you have left. 

“FUCK!” You grunt as your cum floods Seohyun’s pussy. 

The both of you don’t move, the scene in front of you is something that you would love to see every day. Seohyun’s face drained and your cock was the cause of that. 

Mesmerized by her beauty you place kisses all over her chubby perfect face. Seohyun loved those little kisses. Just as you are about to pull out, Seohyun stops you.

“Leave it in there baby, I don’t want a single drop of your cum to go to waste,” Seohyun says. 

******

It’s been three years since your mind-blowing sex in the washroom. The both of you had now moved to a remote estate in Poland, a place where no one recognized your mother or you. 

It was no longer just the two of you, Soehyun had given birth to your baby boy 2 years ago and she was now pregnant again with your child. It was initially difficult for you to adjust to but you had gotten used to it. You were now working in a small company, under an alias. 

Life was perfect like this. Every evening when you came back home you were greeted by your perfect wife/mother. After dinner, you guys still had the same amount of passion in the bedroom, and sex was still as hot and exciting as ever, sometimes you both went overboard with all the sex but it was fine. This is the life you had imagined and loved.   

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

everytime i read this series i feel like im entering the battlefield 🚬😮‍💨my annotations below hehe ⬇️

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

ur writing has such PERSONALITY in it, i swear to god when i read this in beta, i was so in awe

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

this parallels perfectly to the first chapter where topper called rafe when reader was leaving, so not only is this paragraph giving us an at-point breakdown, but it's referring evidence that topper would slip and tell rafe

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

their lives are so intertwined that reader doesn't know who to turn to when she needs independence 😭 oh curse rafe and his big dick

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

this specific paragraph i wanted to highlight because i thought it was so descriptive and imaginative, but simplistic in a way that didn't feel like it was purple prose.

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

the last line EATS BITCH IT EATS

 “You should sit down.”

oh suck a dick

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

in love to hate omg

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

THIS IS SO COLD BUT IT SHOWED HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO WELL, HOW INTERTWINED THEY ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

i would crashout

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

hm.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

they're so toxic and dynamic and i love them

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

that stopped me cold i had to write something in my diary

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.  "Yeah? Get in line."

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I'M LISTENING TO BAD OMENS BY 5SOS AND IT'S AT THE BEATS AND WHILE I READ THIS, IT FITTED PERFECTLY OHMYGOD

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

i wanted to highlight this specific paragraph because i adore the writing, something about it made me feel every single atom of the scene

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”“And what?” you interrupted.“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”“You’re not coming in."He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

HE DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SHIT NO NO

“Yeah, I got someone.”

that's right baby tell em

💌 — ugh, something about this part has been so dynamic, in the way it's constructed, the way it flows so naturally, the way the dialogues are so emotionally-charged but bounces off one another seamlessly. it was like i was watching a perfectly-curated film, where the dialogues were performed by seasoned actors. i love love their arguments. i love how intense it always gets, how they have this push-pull against each other, this hate-love, this line they can't even comprehend nor define. and i love how you written it so beautifully, that you communicate the intensity and depth of this relationship but aggression, tension, and hurt.

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[relia-robot-writes]

I am the Princess in the Tower.

You know, people hear that, and they say, "Oh, that poor Princess, she must be so lonesome up there. Some cruel fate must have befallen her, to be trapped so."

It's true, to a certain extent. I am lonesome. There's no shortage of princes and princesses - I have to wonder where they all come from - who come to try to rescue me from my captivity. None of them ever get particularly close, of course. The Tower is surrounded by a dark and tangled wood, monsters of flesh and stone stalk the grounds, invisible barriers and devious traps block all entry, and even if they got to the base of the Tower, they'd have to figure out how to climb up a sheer, frictionless vertical surface while automatically triggered fireballs rained down upon them... it's pretty well defended, is what I'm trying to say. Every single one of them gets sent packing, cursing the wizard who built the Tower and imprisoned me.

Which is, you know, pretty funny, when you get right down to it.

I mean, it's only natural to assume that, right? Wizards are mysterious, they pop in and out all the time. If one decides to suddenly vanish one day, well, he's probably just off calculating the angles of reality, or whatever, he'll be back. And if a girl appears in his Tower, well, of course he kidnapped a Princess for his own unfathomable wizard purposes.

It hardly matters that there aren't any kingdoms missing a Princess.

I don't correct them, anyway. It's safer for me if nobody knows who I am, or how I've changed. Safety was, after all, why I built the Tower in the first place. You think wizards do this for fun? Out in the middle of nowhere, forced to conjure food and water? Having to walk up and down twenty flights of stairs if I feel like going outside?

Wizards build towers when they are scared shitless.

See, I cast this divination spell when I was an apprentice, and I fucked it up. It constantly shows me visions of my own doom...

Not buying it?

Well, there was this devil, see, and I tricked him into thinking I'd signed my soul away, so now he stalks me forever, seeking vengeance through the very shadows themselves...

No good?

Well, I was cursed as a wee babe, and now all the world is my enemy, from the mightiest warrior to the softest blade of grass, and each one thirsts for my blood!

...I would have died to that one, like, immediately, huh.

Okay. Fine. I'm just... a coward. I built my Tower as far away from everything and everyone that could possibly do me harm as I could. I studied magic because it felt like the best way to avoid any and all hard work, conflict, and danger. I held off on telling anyone anything about who I truly was or what I wanted until I felt I could be absolutely safe.

And still, with "rescuers" at my door just waiting for my hand, I can't bear to look at them. The idea of one even getting close enough to attempt to climb the Tower (it's happened more than once) is terrifying. I could ask them to stop, but who would believe me? "Yes, I, the Princess in the Tower, am totes fine, please go away forever thanks, I am not an evil wizard." That'd go over well.

There's another princess that just made her way through the Woods and slayed one of my constructs. She'll be at the Tower base soon. She's got really pretty hair

I wish

I hope that you

Please don't

I'm writing this down here, and then I'm gonna go hide. If you're reading this,

The blue-armored princess flipped the paper over to the other side. It was blank. Her hair smoldered from the fireball she'd almost dodged, and she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her blade as she reread the first side. Aside from the paper, the room - and, indeed, the entire interior of the Tower - seemed completely empty.

[daddysclownboy]

marylily but it's mary, watching lily from afar and wondering why she feels something she's never felt before.

mary clinging to Sirius like a lifeline even though she knows that she can never love him and he can never love her, because what else can she do?

Mary, kissing lily in a game of truth or dare and realising just how much she's always wanted to do that.

Mary and lily, after the party, alone in the corridor and kissing like they'll never stop, kissing so many times afterwards, even though mary has sirius and she knows that he should be enough.

mary, holding back tears as lily tells her they should stop- it's not right to lie to sirius and their friends, neither girl realising the other feels the same way, each believing the other was only with them as an experiment.

mary, loving lily, never stopping loving her even as lily falls out of love and tells mary about james- james who she likes, even though she's always hated him so much.

mary, always so supportive, because she'd do anything for lily, cheering her on even as her heart rips to shreds, watching she and james kiss like the girls never could- like sirius and remus will never be able to- so so jealous and angry but never angry at lily, because how could she ever be?

mary, barely remembering anything from before the fighting and the death, crying when she hears the news or her friends death, safe only in the knowledge that lily, her lily is still safe, even though they barely speak anymore, and all she has left of her are faded photographs and memories of soft lips and green eyes and kindness.

mary, hiding away- hating herself more and more each day for leaving the only people she ever loved behind, hating james and marlene and even sirius for fighting still, but never, ever hating lily.

mary, numb, so numb, crying and laughing and screaming when she hears the news. she can't even hate him- the man she loved like a brother, the man who made her feel like she wasn't alone, the man who turned out to be just like everything he tried to run from- because all she feels is empty, everything that held her to this earth gone in a flash of green. although, maybe not everything.

mary, running like her life depends on it, because it does really, scooping up the baby in her arms and refusing to look at the woman lying beside him, scared of how her love would look now that she can no longer smile, leaving the house and the man who claimed to love lily, but never did, not like mary could, and the man who did love her, but couldn't save her in the end.

mary, frantic as she runs, sobbing and broken into the arms of a man who watched as everyone she ever loved died, needing to cry out and hit but never doing so, because she couldn't spoil the baby like that, not when he was lily's.

mary, never again thinking of red hair and the smell of apple blossom, never again thinking of stars and records and magic, never again remembering the boy who lived, alive for his mother- the only one mary ever truly loved, never again really living, as the man muttered a spell and everything was forgotten as though it never meant a thing.

mary, who survived, unlike the rest, but who never truly breathed again, because how could she live without lily, without her warmth and light and beauty, without her memories.

mary, who lived longer than the rest, but died that night on halloween, as she was always meant to from the moment she fell in love.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 7

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5017 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

T-minus 1 day until Echidna's War.

'All right, everyone!' Y/N called out to the group, forcing them to stop sparring in their pairs and look at her. 'That's enough for today. Go, shower and get ready for our feast. You deserve to enjoy this night before tomorrow.'

'Yes, Princess!' the warriors said in unison, then quickly dispersed, leaving the training grounds to head back into the city to prepare for tomorrow.

'You should get ready too, Princess,' Calliope said, looking after her sisters-in-arms chatting and walking down the stairs to their homes. Y/N's heart pulled at the thought that she'd never see such happy smiles again after tonight.

'In a moment, Calliope,' Y/N answered, looking around the remaining groups that were finishing up their drills. Her gaze fell on one particular acrobat who was teaching the group blocking techniques and some acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid an opponent. All the while doing so, Dick was smiling, encouraging the women to keep trying.

'He's not too bad,' Calliope said with amusement. 'For a mortal man, that is.'

Y/N turned to Calliope only to see a knowing smile on her friend's face. Only then did Y/N realise she was smiling stupidly wide, and made quick work to get rid of it. 'I guess so. But he's stupidly naive and impulsive. He'll get himself killed because of it.'

'Maybe,' Calliope said thoughtfully as she looked back at Dick for a moment before facing Y/N again. 'But isn't that how a true warrior should die? In battle fighting for what's right?'

Y/N didn't like the thought of Dick being clawed open or beheaded by monsters, so she quickly said, 'It's not his battle to fight in, though. He shouldn't be here.'

'But he is, Y/N,' Calliope insisted, coming to stand in front of Y/N so she had no choice but to make eye contact. 'And that's what makes him even braver. He's here helping us save our home; a home he had never seen until a few days ago; a home that has no connection to him whatsoever but he is here trying to save it.'

Before Y/N could protest, Calliope gripped Y/N's hands in a manner that was desperate and insistent. 'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. 'What are you-'

'Oh, don't play dumb with me,' Calliope interrupted. 'I see how you look at him. You're worried about him. Which means you care, despite everything you say to convince us otherwise.'

Y/N went to deny it but couldn't find the words to do so. Her heart was being torn in so many different directions any time she thought about Dick, she didn't know what exactly she felt for him. It was hard to put into words what he meant to her, the good and the bad.

When she remained silent, Calliope patted Y/N's hands gently then dropped them as she too walked away, leaving Y/N standing frozen in a battle with her head and her heart.

Y/N could've been standing there for one minute or an hour for all she knew, until someone waved their hand in front of her face and broke her from her trance.

'Y/N,' Dick said, his brows furrowed in concern. 'You okay?'

Y/N took a deep breath in as she came back to the moment. 'Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just...'

'Worried?' Dick offered, and Y/N was grateful for the change in subject. 'Well, I wouldn't be if I were you. These women are stronger than some of the heroes back home.'

Y/N raised a playful eyebrow. 'Only some?'

Dick chuckled. 'Okay, all of them.'

The two shared a quiet laugh, and it brought Y/N a sense of normalcy and nostalgia that warmed her heart.

She looked around as the remaining warriors finished their trainings and made to leave for their homes. Y/N could almost name each and every one of them, and there was the possibility that after tomorrow she would never see them again.

'Echidna is the one who should be worried,' Y/N said, her voice slightly shaky with anger and determination. She knew that if death were to come tomorrow, Y/N wouldn't be able to save them all. But she'd be damned if she didn't try to.

A warm calloused hand tentatively enclosed her fist, and the touch was enough to cease Y/N's shakes. 'I agree,' Dick said, two simple words seemingly echoing around the quiet training ground. His smile was smooth but genuine and Y/N could've believed they were eighteen again and back on the mainland and with the team. Back when his smile eased all her problems, back when Wally and all their lost friends weren't gone. Back when it was just them, and everything in Y/N's world made sense.

But now Y/N felt like she was on another planet, and they were about to go to war with the Mother of Monsters and nothing made sense anymore.

Y/N slowly pulled her had away from Dick's and cleared her throat as she stared straight ahead. 'We should probably get ready for the feast. Could be the last one we have in a while.' Or ever, she wanted to add, but Dick was an optimist and would ridicule her for thinking such thoughts and she really didn't want to keep talking with him.

'That's right,' Dick said, eyes brightening up at the thought of food. 'I bet you guys put on the best meals, as well.'

Y/N just rolled her eyes as they made their way across the training grounds to the stairs that would lead them back into town. 'A true boy. Only ever thinking about food.'

'A true girl. Turning every compliment into an insult.'

Y/N shoved him and he shoved her back and the two couldn't hold back radiant smiles. It astounded Y/N how easily they fell back into old habits. How familiar and safe Dick was.

'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Tell him what exactly? Y/N could hardly discern what mixture of emotions was running through her, let alone wheedle down to a specific point what her true feelings were for Dick. She'd been upset for so long, then angry at him. But the past three days he'd shown himself to be the Dick she'd always known and come to love. Kind, brave, funny, strong, compassionate.

It all lead her to a very confusing fork in the metaphorical road of her heart.

Even so, there was something she felt for him...

Just as Dick took a step down the stairs, Y/N found herself reaching out to him this time, bringing him to a stop with her soft grip on his shoulder. 'Wait.'

Dick looked over his shoulder immediately, his piercing blue eyes glued onto her with curiosity and wonder. 'Yeah?' he asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, calming her racing heart as she said, 'I'm sorry.' When Dick only frowned with confusion, she elaborated. 'I'm sorry for doubting you. For being... well, I haven't been the most welcoming of people have I?'

Dick didn't say a word, but he turned fully around to face her, his face as serious as it was the other night on another staircase. Y/N's hand dropped to her side, and she found she could not look away from Dick's eyes as the words started falling out.

'I guess... I just didn't think you cared about us anymore,' she said. 'About the team, about me. And it made me so angry, but then you came to the one place I thought I could finally find peace again and I just couldn't accept that you were here for me. But I see now I was wrong.'

'No, I was the one who was wrong,' Dick said with a shake of his head. 'You had every right to be angry with me, in fact you still do. You were right, I was ignorant and only thought of my pain in those years I was away. I didn't think how coming here would affect you after everything I've done.'

Dick returned to the landing, now towering over Y/N, and took her hands in his and said in a gentle voice, 'I know I am far from forgiven, but I promise you, I will spend whatever time I have left on this earth trying to make it up to you.'

Y/N could hardly breathe with the way Dick was looking at her. It was almost dream-like, and suddenly all of her teenage emotions came rushing back into her bloodstream. The adoration, the awe, the love - it had remained all this time, she'd just repressed it in her time of pain and loss.

And it could've just been her, but something flickered briefly across Dick's face - the slightest arch of his brows, the minuscule twitch of his mouth. An emotion Y/N had no time to discern before Dick was the one stepping back and resuming his journey down the stairs, a careless smile on his face like the moment never happened.

'The showers await us, Princess,' he jested as he waved her after him. 'Wouldn't want to be late for the feast!'

Y/N stared after him for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He was serious, he would do anything to make it all up to her. And that look on his face...

Y/N shook herself out of her imagination. Probably just seeing things, she told herself as she followed Dick down the stairs. She wouldn't get her hopes up again.

Not for Dick Grayson of all people.

~~~

When Dick Grayson arrived back at his room, he drew himself a bath and allowed himself to relax if only for a few minutes. The first night in his room he'd been affronted to find a group of women ready to bathe him like a child. He'd argued with Y/N about them, her saying it was their tradition and all. Eventually she caved and dismissed the women from his room. He laughed at the memory, thinking beneath his own anger that she looked cute riled up.

There it was again - the thoughts he had never thought before.

He couldn't deny Y/N had grown into a beautiful young woman, one who stood by her values and always fought for the right thing. She'd stuck by the team when he couldn't, and for that he would always admire her.

But then again he had always admired her. That's part of the reason she was his best friend. She was this strong and loving individual that had always stuck by him and the others. She had the most infectious smile, and her laughter was like music-

Dick bolted upright in the bath, his heart racing at a million miles per hour as an alarming thought entered his mind. Do I like Y/N?

Well, it wasn't a matter of like. Of course he liked her, she was his best friend after all. But they'd never... she'd never implied...

He recalled when they were younger how many people - including their parents - said that he and Y/N would end up together. They were each other's better half, and honestly part of the reason he ended up breaking up with each and every one of his past girlfriends. Because they couldn't see how important Y/N was to him.

That didn't mean he liked her like that... did he?

Dick splashed his face one last time before leaping out of the bath to get ready for the feast. Maybe all the training he was doing was making him tired and delusional. After all, even if he truly felt that way for her, she'd never feel the same. Maybe once - though there was no telling so - but certainly not now.

However, they'd had a moment on the stairs this afternoon, and something felt... different. The way she looked at him had sent his gut rolling with something akin to a roller coaster, and the vision of her hair in the golden rays of sun had taken his breath away completely. Dick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way - completely and utterly entranced.

Dick dressed himself in the only set of clothes he'd come in and opened his door to find Calliope and other guards standing in the corridor.

'We are to escort you down to the feast, Mr. Grayson,' Calliope explained. 'By order of the Queen herself. You will be seated at their table tonight.'

Dick found this surprising as he usually sat with the soldiers of the group he'd trained that day, getting to know them and laughing with them. But he was to sit at the royals table, which consisted of Queen Hippolyta, some generals, and Y/N.

When they entered the dining hall, the feast had pretty much begun as hundreds and hundreds of women were already seated at long tables that ran almost from the door to the dais where the Queen sat chatting with other generals at their own long table. Dick made sure to greet any woman he knew as he was guided up to the royals' table.

'So nice of you to join us, Mr. Grayson,' the Queen said as Dick was seated.

'The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty,' he replied politely, then noted the empty chair between him and the Queen. 'Is Y/N not down yet?'

'She is usually late to these sorts of things,' the Queen replied defeatedly. 'She always fights with the maidens about her hair and dress. In that respect, she is very much her mother.'

As Queen Hippolyta turned back to the speak with the generals, a quiet voice leant in behind him and quietly said, 'Eager to see the princess are we?'

'W-What?' Dick exclaimed to Calliope. 'No, I'm not. I just... I'm just making conversation, that's all.'

'Whatever you say, mortal,' Calliope teased, her smile knowing and irritating as she remained by Dick's head.

He turned to her, annoyed. 'What do you mean by that?'

Calliope just shrugged. 'Nothing nobody doesn't already know.' When Dick just stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes and said, 'You cannot tell me you do not feel for our princess. Do you not?'

It was like she was reading his mind or something. It was a little freaky and off-putting. But Dick was used to off-putting questions - journalists used them all the time on him when Dick did press interviews with Bruce.

So he calmly sat in his chair and looked out to the busy hall in front of him. 'Well, I still have the bruises from our first sparring match when I first got here so I guess I do feel something because of the princess.'

Calliope chuckled and shook her head. 'Avoid the question all you want, mortal. But Truth always has an interesting way of making itself known.'

Dick didn't like her know-it-all tone, and so finally turned around and said in a quiet but hard tone. 'My relationship with Y/N isn't up for debate here. She is my best friend, and the only thing I'm interested in is restoring her trust in me and saving your island.'

'How noble...' Calliope started, but her attention turned to the opening of the hall's doors and so Dick's eyes followed. He was struck still at the vision he was met with.

It was Y/N, draped in a flattering arrangement of white cloth that was synched at her waist with a golden chain. Her H/C hair had been put up in a loose bun, held together by golden pins. Plain sandals covered her feet as she made her way towards the dais, the many bracelets and arm bands adorning her arms flashing golden in the firelight.

Dick knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. No one could it seemed, as Y/N greeted many women along the way, and whispers of her beauty echoed throughout the hall. When she drew closer, her eyes connected with Dick's, and instead of the cold or distant expression she'd given him since day one, she offered him an embarrassed smile.

That brief interaction sent his heart in motion. It reminded him of the time they had gone to prom in their junior year of school. It had been the first time Dick had seen Y/N with makeup and in a dress. She'd given him the same embarrassed look, and he had been just as transfixed.

Dick felt someone lean in to his ear as he continued to watch Y/N make her way to the dais. 'But are you sure there is no other reason that you are here?' Calliope finished with a whisper.

She stepped back into her position before Dick could respond, not that he knew what he would say anyway. His gut was rolling so much with indecision that he thought he might throw up.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Y/N took her seat between him and the Queen. 'Grandmother,' she greeted coolly.

'Y/N,' the Queen responded, a kind smile stretching her lips. 'You look beautiful, my dear.'

'Thank you, but I still do not understand why I must wear this to every feast we have,' Y/N argued.

'It is tradition, and you are Themyscria's princess,' the Queen explained, tapping her granddaughter's hand in comfort before returning to her previous conversation.

Y/N sighed in mild defeat as she sat back in her chair. After a moment, she clocked that Dick was looking at her and sighed again. 'Not a single word from you, Grayson.'

'I wasn't going to say anything!' Dick retorted, quickly collecting himself.

'I can see it in your eyes that you're going to laugh at me.'

It took Dick a moment to realise she wasn't joking. She fidgeted with the loose cloth that draped over her body, eyes flickering from him to the crowd and back. She genuinely thought she looked ridiculous. If he was sixteen still, maybe he would've made a comment or two.

But sixteen was a long time ago now.

'No, I wasn't,' he said, and his answer must've surprised him as she turned to him with a perplexed expression on her face. 'You look... You look beautiful, Y/N.'

Y/N's E/C eyes scanned over his face, possibly searching for any kind of lie or detection of amusement. But she obviously didn't find anything, as she smiled at him, her eyes shining with surprise. 'Thank you. I would offer you the same compliment, but you've looked the same as you did the day you got here.'

'Ruggedly handsome?'

'Hmm, I'd say a bit worse for wear.'

Dick let out a painful groan as he slapped a hand across his chest where his heart was encased under. 'Wow! Way to wound a guy.'

Y/N just laughed, and Dick joined her, genuinely happy to see her smiling as they used to together. Once the laughter died, he said, 'But seriously, Y/N, you look great. And... I'm just glad you're not calling me Nightwing anymore.'

'Well,' Y/N started, fiddling with one of her bracelets, 'I figured you deserved that much after all your help.'

Help. That's right. He was helping her save her new home and new family. It wasn't because she'd forgiven him and were suddenly best friends again.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' a young girl said, coming to stand on the other side of the table. 'But I just had something to discuss with you, Princess.'

'Of course,' Y/N answered, turning all her attention to the girl. 'Go ahead.'

Throughout dinner, Y/N was kept busy by other conversations with warriors and young girls and teachers alike that all had questions for their princess. Y/N answered every single one of their queries with enthusiasm and grace, not batting an eye as she ate and spoke and listened.

She was a natural and a pro. The whole time she spoke, Dick couldn't help but think about the two years he'd been gone for and how many times Y/N had to soothe a fear, had to deliver a confident speech that would encourage the team to keep going no matter how bleak the future seemed.

It saddened and pained him to think he'd forced that responsibility onto her in his absence. But she'd done it, held the team together and she was doing that right now as well for her people.

Upon the conclusion of dinner, the Queen called for silence as she rose to address the hall. 'Evening everyone,' she started, her voice radiating composure and control. 'Tonight, we are in the presence of our own history in the making. Tomorrow, we face Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.'

The mention of the goddess sent whispers of fear rattling throughout the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the raise of the Queen's hand. 'I know some of you, if not all of you, are fearful of the coming events. Echidna is a foe that will not be so easily defeated. However, this is what we have trained for. This is what us Amazons are built for.

"Think of the young women, young girls and infants in their houses sleeping peacefully right now. Think of the women you grew up with, of the friendships and sisterhoods you have forged in those years. Think of the woman beside you now. That is who you fight for when Echidna comes. Not ourselves, but the women" - the Queen made a pointed look at Dick as she continued - "and man that reside on this island tonight. They will need you when the fight comes. So are you ready?'

The entire hall exploded with cheers and whistles of eagerness, and that brought a bright smile to Queen Hippolyta's face. 'In that case, enjoy tonight. Dance, eat, drink, sing. Be free.'

By the flick of the Queen's wrist, the band in the corner Dick hadn't seen started playing beautiful music and the tables were moved to create room for a dance floor.

'Princess, you must join us for a dance!' Some young girls came around the table and gently pulled Y/N from her seat, to which Y/N just laughed as she allowed them to drag her to the dance floor. Dick watched Y/N join the other women, watched her smile stretch wide and bright, watched her embrace and let herself go as she danced.

When was the last time she'd done that?

'...when we last spoke, she sounded like she didn't want to be found. That she would come back to us when she was ready...'

'Maybe she doesn't want to see you, have you considered that?'

Kaldur's words haunted him, had been since he left M'gann and Connor's house. He just hadn't taken his friend's warning seriously until now.

Kaldur was right.

Dick rose from his seat and quickly excused himself from the party, suddenly overwhelmed by the music and the full room. He escaped to one of the balconies nearby and was relieved that he could finally hear himself think. And yet now he could hear it all in the outdoor silence - the conflicting emotions and thoughts running through him.

Did she really belong here or back home?

Did he mean as much to her anymore as much as she meant to him?

What did he truly feel for her?

What will happen when Echidna strikes tomorrow?

So many issues and so little time to solve them all.

He didn't know how long he stood there, looking out over the mountain and ocean, over the flickering lights of those who feasted in their homes. It could've been hours, and yet the full moon barely moved.

'What are you doing out here?'

Dick was knocked out of his mind at the sound of the sweet voice, and he turned to find Y/N standing on the steps that lead back inside to the bustling party, an exhausted grin adorning her flushed face. With the firelight behind her and the moon shining onto her dress, Dick could've sworn she glowed divinely.

'S-Sorry?' he called out, confused as to why she was out there in the first place.

'I asked what are you doing out here all by yourself on such a beautiful night?' Y/N repeated, walking down the steps before making her way over to him at the balcony's edge. 'You're usually one for parties if high school was any indicator.'

Dick tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak cough. 'Yeah well, we're a long way from high school, aren't we.'

'What's going on with you?' Y/N asked, and Dick could feel her stare on him. 'You've been oddly... quiet this evening.'

'I just don't feel well is all. Don't worry I will be fine for the battle tomorrow.'

'That's a load of crap, Grayson and you know it.'

Dick didn't reply, just looked out over the ocean in the hopes that she would leave. But she didn't and Dick finally turned to meet her stare. It was like she was undressing him, but not in the physical sense. In the way she'd always been able to read him and say silently that she knew he wasn't okay.

That one stare made him feel more vulnerable than being naked, or doing flips off a podium twenty metres in the air with no safety net to catch him.

'I just... I've been doing some thinking,' he started, 'and I think that... if we both survive this... that you should stay here. On Themyscira. If that is what you want.'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'So... you're giving me permission to stay here if we all live through Echidna's war? Seriously?'

Dick turned to her fully. 'No, I mean yes- But no you don't need my permission to stay, I just... I'm sorry this is coming out all wrong.' He took a calming breath before starting again. 'What I mean to say is, I came after you for the wrong reasons. I was being selfish and stubborn. But I want you to be happy. And seeing you dance tonight with the other women... well, I can't remember the last time myself or any of the team brought you that kind of happiness.'

'What about your mission?' she asked, her voice distant, almost scared.

Dick flashed her a casual smile. 'Don't worry about it. I'll manage. I never should've come here in the first place. I'm sorry.' Dick gestured back to the stairs and started back-tracking towards them. 'Let's go rejoin the party while we still can, huh? You're right, I do love a good party.'

Just as he turned his back, Y/N called out. 'I'm not.'

He paused for a moment, then looked over his shoulder to find Y/N looking at him with an intensity that almost sent him staggering. 'What?' he asked.

'I'm not sorry you came,' she answered, taking a deep breath in to maintain her composure.

Surprised by her answer, Dick turned back to her. 'You're not?'

She shook her head, then started fidgeting with her dress and looked down. 'Am I angry you came? Yes, initially. Am I still hurting because of what you did, and is your presence just a daily reminder of that pain? Most definitely.'

That last one struck him deep. He had never wanted to be the cause of so much pain. Not to her of all people.

After another deep breath, Y/N finally looked up at him. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you.'

There it was again, that look she'd given him on the stairs earlier, in fact she'd given it to him many times before, he realised. Not just on Themyscira but back home, back when they were sixteen. It was the look of truth and honesty, of adoration and care.

His heart thumped so heavily in his chest he swore Y/N could hear it, and while he didn't understand what the thought of Y/N missing him implied, he knew how it made him feel.

'I missed you too,' he said honestly, returning to stand in front of Y/N. He didn't know why, but it felt right to reach for her hands, and she didn't push him away as he enclosed his fingers around hers. 'A-And being here has made me realise something else, too.'

'What's that?' Her breath fanned his face they stood so close, closer than what simple friends should. But he didn't care, it felt right, it felt natural.

'That I... I just...' He couldn't get the words out, they were so heavy with meaning they got stuck in his throat. Both afraid and excited to say them aloud, he couldn't decide what fate would be worse. Be honest and rejected, or be honest and see if she felt the same.

'You what, Dick?' she whispered, eyes never leaving his.

They both realised that it was the first time she'd called him by his first name since he'd landed on Themyscira. And if that wasn't a sign, then Dick didn't know what would be.

'I just...' Dick started, but a shadow crossed over Y/N's face and he quickly turned to find a a giant winged creature with fangs and a humanoid body reaching to him with its claws.

'Get down!' Dick cried as he turned and dove to the ground with Y/N. He felt the talons of the creature brush against his back as he partially covered Y/N out of natural instinct. The creature screeched as it soared high above again, disappearing into the darkness despite the moonlight.

'Are you okay?' Dick asked as he helped Y/N to her feet.

'Yes, I'm fine,' Y/N said, her eyes trained on the sky.

'What was that?' Dick asked, trying to spy the creature but there was no sign of it anywhere.

'That was a harpy,' Y/N answered, then her eyes locked on to something in the sky, her face paling with fear.

Dick followed her gaze and found himself frozen with fear himself. The harpy had come back but with more of its kind. Many more. So much so they blocked out the moon and engulfed the palace in darkness.

'Echidna's war...' Y/N breathed out in disbelief. 'It' has begun.'

---------------------

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @resistanythingbuttemptation | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycat | @b4tm4nn | @cynwing | @lilylovelyxo | @herondale-lightworm | @animeflower26 | @tiny-marie | @jedigrayson | @kookiemyfeelsposts | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @vxxviennne | @peachmartini | @jayn333-blog | @rory-cakes

[filmtv2022]

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

-----------------------------------------------------

Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind. 

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose. 

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight,  and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him. 

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later. 

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time. 

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.” 

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.” 

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation,  and fell short, “It has been adequate.” 

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?” 

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you. 

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings. 

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.” 

“My lady.” 

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later. 

----------------------------------------------------

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind. 

You couldn't be sure of the hour,  but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was. 

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less.  But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.  

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings. 

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm. 

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it.  With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot. 

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface. 

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen. 

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-” 

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.” 

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.” 

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest.  You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart. 

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.” 

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.” 

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

[finalgirl1984]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Kendra.

I already answered this one here. So I’ll talk about the Kendra/Faith dynamic that exists only in my head.

I think the thing that compels me about this pairing, either as romantic or platonic, is their glaring similarities despite the equally glaring differences and their connection to Buffy. They’re defined by the narrative by not being Buffy; From their appearance with Faith’s tendency towards dark colors and Kendra’s first outfit contrasting Buffy's baggy flannel (even though it doesn’t make much sense for Kendra’s character but let’s just ignore that.), to their upbringings with Kendra being raised from a very young age by her watcher and Faith’s implied abusive mother and generally terrible childhood.

Despite them being presented as the two extremes on the slayer scale, (Faith being too wild and reckless, Kendra being too uptight and in love with rules, with Buffy being in the middle), they have a lot of similarities. They put slaying at the forefront of their lives. They both enjoy it and embrace it in a way that Buffy struggled with. They’re both far away from home. All the people they know in sunnydale are connected to Buffy from the watcher(s) they essentially share to the friend group they’re not really a part of.

how would Faith feel about having someone around who likes being a slayer as much as she does? How would Kendra feel about someone who, while dedicated to slaying, is just as reckless as Buffy?

Faith feeling like just a spare is already in canon, now she's the third in line. I can imagine Faith commiserating with Kendra about how they're both outsiders, being frustrated that Kendra doesn't seem to care as much about it as she does (or maybe she's just better at hiding it). Faith might wonder how her life might have turned out if she'd been found as a potential at a young age like Kendra and raised by Diana.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

While Marcy miraculously staying in LA after the events of Amphibia """misses the point""" and """ruins the story""", my most self indulgent side NEEDS to see these three together in Highschool. I need Sasha being a bit of a mean girl especially to people who look at her girls weird. Yes she HAS spread people's secrets yes she HAS destroyed the self-esteem of countless boys yes she HAS gotten half the cheerleading squad kicked out while jumping through all the moral loopholes imaginable to be juuust on the side of chaotic good and not chaotic neutral. All because they said something mean about the time Marcy freaked out like a baby over a blackout, or because they mocked the food Anne brought from home. Need Anne being surprisingly popular, a big sports girly, seeing her two girls cheering for her during her games - one of them as an actual cheerleader, the other with big signs and maybe a trumpet or something. Need Marcy with her weak nerdy legs (and lingering nerve damage oops) asking Sasha for piggyback rides on the way home, discussing anime and FPS videogames with her while Anne carries her backpack, phone in her free hand, waiting for those two to be distracted so she can snap a picture.

I want them to be so uncommonly affectionate with each other in school, that everyone finds them kinda weird but their families have given very explicit Do Not Separate orders so the teachers let them be. They've been through a lot. Doesn't stop the cheerleading squad laughing at Sasha and questioning how come she'd rather hang out with her two kindergarden friends - one being cringe and nerdy and the other being dumber than a bag of rocks - instead of dating any of the cute boys that always ask her out, or how come she always cancels plans on them as soon as one of her girls calls. Sasha will make sure to teach them not to question her in the future.

The teachers quickly realize Marcy's potential but also notice she only hangs out with two girls who are pretty lazy and are barely passing their classes, and they wonder if they're using her to get good grades. Those two do seem to fit the stereotype of the jock and the mean girl taking a nerd under their wing to make them do their homework. Marcy does help them study, but she doesn't lose sleep over it - she knows they're smart and they'll figure it out, she's just there for a little encouragement. They just haven't seen the care and concern with which they hold her when her chest starts burning all of a sudden, how they race after her to the bathroom whenever she's feeling unwell, how protectively they cuddle her at sleepovers.

Anne has her own group of jock friends separate from Marcy and Sasha, and they get along fine, but they're beginning to think it's odd that she turns down every boy that asks her out, while lighting up like a flower in the sun whenever she gets a call from one of her girls. They ask her about it at one point, and all she says is "I don't really think I want a boyfriend. These two already take enough of my time", with a fond smile and a tender tone of voice that might make you think there's more to it if you had any idea of the concept of consensual non-monogamy, or lesbians. But you're a teenage boy so what you think is more along the lines of "wow they seem like very good friends".

[the-boundless-sea]

a list of stark family moments and details i treasure 🫶

jon telling gilly she has a pretty name when they meet because sansa told him once that he should always tell a lady they have a pretty name upon being introduced (jon iii, acok)

robb sitting up with bran after he goes to bed, trying to cheer his little brother up after his fall by telling him how their mother will be home soon and after they'll do a surprise visit to jon in castle black

and bran realizing robb has started crying as he says this, and so taking on the role of comforter and reaching out to hold his big brother's hand as they sit in the dark (bran iv, agot)

robb being unable to resist correcting catelyn for leaving jon out when she says there were 'five wolves for five stark children' despite trying not to argue with her (catelyn ii, asos)

this acting as an echo of when they found the wolves and it initially appeared there were only five, and jon, arguing they should keep the pups to make bran happy, told ned it was a sign that there were five direwolves for five stark kids. even at 7-years-old, bran understands jon is leaving himself out of the count to make it match and loves his brother "with all his heart at that moment." (bran i, agot)

"he was no true stark, had never been one... but he could die like one. let them say that eddard stark fathered four sons, not three." - jon, as he attempts to leave the night's watch to join robb (jon ix, agot)

"mother. you forget my father had four sons. jon's more a stark than some lordlings from the vale who've never set eyes on winterfell." robb, as he legitimizes jon as a stark, names him his heir, and goes to release him from the night's watch (catelyn v, asos)

jon being so overjoyed when bran wakes up from his coma that he cries, hugs tyrion and runs around castle black telling random guards his brother is going to live (jon iii, agot)

arya and bran teaming up to ambush sansa with a dozen snowballs each and sansa retaliating by chasing arya throughout the castle until she tripped. arya stopping to make sure she wasn't hurt and throwing another snowball at her face when she isn't. sansa pulling arya to to the ground and covering her in snow while they both laugh the whole time.

sansa making a snow model of winterfell after reliving this memory because there's no point in snowballs without someone to throw them at. (sansa vii, asos)

everything about the story of jon and robb's ghost prank in the crypts. robb making sure they have one (1) candle about to flicker out. jon being covered in flour makes him a ghost. bran holding arya's hand and hiding behind robb. sansa just fucking taking off. arya's strategy being to punch a ghost into submission. jon and robb laughing so hard bran and arya can't even stay mad and start laughing too. the fact the entire reason it comes up is it's a memory that makes arya smile and feel brave. (arya iv, agot)

rickon being too young to understand why jon isn't sitting with them like he normally does when the king is visiting and holding up the procession when he sees jon sitting somewhere else. (jon i, agot) he keeps asking why jon isn't sitting with them throughout the feast. (bran iii, acok)

jon telling catelyn he doesn't care if she calls the guards on him, she can't stop him saying goodbye to bran.

robb being able to tell something is off with jon after this takes place, and gently asking if his mother said something and jon lying in response to smooth the situation out. (jon ii, agot)

bran wondering if direwolves miss their brothers and sisters too. (bran i, acok)

jon and robb climbing the towers at winterfell to practice shouting at one another after ned told them it's doesn't matter how brilliant a man is if his men can't hear his commands during a battle. (jon vii, asos)

arya thinking if she could see sansa again she'd kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady to make her happy. (arya vii, acok)

sansa, believing her younger brothers to be dead, thinks of how she'll name her sons eddard, bran, and rickon. she pictures them all looking like her "late" brothers and sometimes dreams they'll have a girl who looks like arya too. (sansa ii, asos)

when jon imagines leaving the night's watch, he thinks wistfully of having a son named robb. he also fantasizes gilly's son and mance's son would grow up as pseudo-twin brothers like him and robb (jon xii, asos)

the boys would all share a bed to stay warm whenever it got cold. i love to picture this after they got the direwolves so the humans and wolves are all in one big puppy pile. (jon vi, acok) jon also says he would lay up at night while his brothers slept next to him and make his plans to join the night's watch (jon i, agot), so in this mental picture i have all the other boys are dead asleep, while jon super seriously explains his plans to ghost at 3am.

whenever she's on the verge of reuniting with other family members, arya worries they won't want her anymore because of what she's had to do to survive. but when she thinks of reuniting with jon, she thinks "jon will want me. even if no one else does." (arya xii, asos)

bran, sansa, and arya all saying they have to be as brave or as strong as robb when they're hyping themselves up. (bran iv, asos; sansa iv, asos; arya ii, agot) jon dreaming of being "as good and true a son as robb." (jon x, asos) he's literally the golden standard for all his siblings.

robb's ghost showing up in both jon and arya's dreams, with neither one recognizing him (jon viii, asos; cat of the canals, affc)

bran being jealous of jon for thinking of the name ghost first for his direwolf because it sounds so cool while being so disdainful of rickon deciding to call his shaggydog. (bran ii, agot)

jon continuing to hope bran and rickon's consciousnesses live on in their direwolves when he believes them dead. (jon i, adwd; jon viii, asos)

bran wanting to be a wolf so he could find arya and sansa and protect robb in battle so they could all return to winterfell. (bran i, acok)

jon remembering how bran would always follow him and robb everywhere and try join in on whatever they were doing. (jon iii, agot)

rickon following robb everywhere and physically clinging to robb after their other siblings and parents are gone. robb arguing with catelyn over how scared and abandoned rickon feels with her gone. (catelyn iii, agot)

after bran wakes, rickon cries if robb's away more than half a day and asks bran when robb is coming back (bran iv, agot). when robb goes south, rickon melts down so much that he won't eat - he just screams and cries all day and attacks adults who try to comfort him. (bran vi, agot)

jon imagining both his sisters' reactions to seeing the beautiful morning frost at craster's. he pictures sansa crying from how magical it looks and arya running to touch everything he can. (jon iii, acok)

robb and jon's bickering devolving into a race where robb is laughing and hooting and jon is super serious and intent on winning, in a way that implies this is the norm for them. (bran i, agot)

not just summer, but shaggy and grey wind also howl in mourning when bran's in his coma. robb opens the window in bran's room so bran can "hear them sing." (catelyn iii, agot)

when bran hears the wolves howling again he worries it means somethings happened to one of his siblings. (bran i, acok)

jon and arya are so in tune they'd regularly speak in unison. (jon ii, agot; arya i, asos; arya i, acok; jon iii, agot)

jon and robb building a "great mountain" of snow to dump on whoever walks under the gate, even getting mance fucking rayder to be their accomplice, and then getting chased around the yard by their poor victim fat tom until their faces are "red as autumn apples." (jon i, asos)

rickon immediately asking if robb's coming home upon seeing a letter from him and upon being told no tells maester luwin to write robb back and tell him to come home and bring grey wolf and their parents back too. (bran v, acok)

the fact rickon specifically mentions he should bring grey wind back too, because we saw him playing with grey wind, summer, and shaggydog when his siblings were all gone or busy. they were basically his only friends for a time. (bran iv, agot)

when tyrion leaves to head back to winterfell, jon tells him that rickon will ask when he's coming back and to try explain it to him, and also adds to tell him he can have all his stuff while he's gone, which is just such cute little sibling thing, but also shows how even then jon thinks of the night's watch as being away; winterfell is still his home that he'll come back to one day.

he also tells tyrion to tell robb that he can melt down his sword and take up needlework because jon's going to command the night's watch and keep him safe. and of course, his pleas for tyrion to find a way to help bran are what lead tyrion to give bran his new saddle. (jon iii, agot)

despite his mistrust of tyrion and the lannisters, robb offers to let tyrion stay at winterfell after he sees how much his gift means to bran. (bran iv, agot)

robb no longer believing the direwolves were sent by the old gods after bran and rickon were believed dead, because what was the point of a gift from the gods if it didn't keep his brothers safe? (catelyn ii, asos)

bran going to the godswood to pray that robb doesn't have to leave and then adding if he does to have to leave to make it so he comes home with their sisters and parents and that rickon will understand what's happening. (bran vi, agot)

when jon and sansa remember robb after his death they both picture him with snowflakes melting in his hair, the way he was when they left winterfell. (jon xiii, adwd; sansa viii, asos)

when seeing sam off, the last thing jon says is for sam to put his hood up because the snow's melting in his hair, and sam notes the strange smile on his face when he says it. (samwell i, affc)

bran arguing lord hornwood's son out of wedlock should be named his heir, thinking of jon. (bran ii, acok)

robb being so upset when catelyn compares jon to theon that grey wind hops onto the crypt and bares his teeth at her. (catelyn v, asos)

jon wondering if ever really had any right to call arya his sister, saying he was as out of place as theon at winterfell. (jon iii, asos)

just... the contrast of jon thinking about sansa, and how since she became old enough to understand what a bastard is she's only ever referred to him as her "half-brother", but he misses her anyways... and sansa missing jon while living as alayne, calling him the only brother that remains to her and thinking "i'm a bastard too now, just like him." (jon iii, agot; alayne ii, affc)

robb also calling jon the only brother who remains to him. arya calling jon the only brother she has left. (catelyn v, asos; arya xii, asos)

rickon crying and refusing to leave bran until he's physically forced off. (bran vii, acok)

every word of this sentence shatters me: "every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; snow and stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see." (jon xii, asos)

ok now the angsty part

like! jon is having this flashback because he feels guilty and conflicted over stannis's offer to legitimize him and name him heir to winterfell, never knowing that's exactly what robb wanted.

(jon xii, asos)

(catelyn v, asos)

he keeps remembering robb calling him a bastard as a mental chastisement for daring to put himself on their level, but one of robb's very last acts on earth was to name him jon stark!! bran wanted lord hornwood's illegitimate son to be allowed to succeed him because of jon!! jon doesn't think he counts as arya's brother. but he's the one she misses the most, the only one whose unconditional love she never doubts!! jon!!!

(jon xi, asos)

and yet! despite all the shame and guilt, the thing that ultimately stops him from accepting stannis's offer is his belief that the old gods sent the stark siblings their direwolves, and he can't betray his family's gods! that's what makes his decision, above all else!

(jon xii, asos)

[altocat]

I mean, besides the big bad ultimate illness (degradation/Jenova tomfoolery/geostigma), how would the firsts +Zack and Cloud (AC or not) be when they are genuinely sick. like, legitimately they think they might die. no Genesis thinking the sniffles are death. no no no, GRAVELY ILL.

(also ily, you're great, have a wonderful day ♥️)

This is gonna be SO MORBID lmao Thank you for the tasty angst.

TWs for potentially distressing topics.

Angeal: He initially tries to take the pragmatic approach, the resourceful one. Assuming he's about to die, he gets his affairs in order, arranges everything as neatly as possible. He tries to put on a brave face, even though it's emotionally exhausting him. He tries to juggle everything and bottle his feelings to the point where he becomes depressed and slightly unstable, eventually crumbling from the weight of it, admitting that he hopes it comes as quickly as possible so he doesn't have to prolong his own suffering.

Zack: Keeps a smile on his face despite everything. He's scared, yeah. But he's facing the prospect of dying with a sense of courage and acceptance. Yeah, it's terrifying. But it's a new adventure. He'll face whatever comes. He'll keep joking and laughing. He'll stand toe to toe with Death, look it in the eyes, and depart as an equal. That's the real Zack Fair. Fearless to the end.

AC!Cloud: Cloud privately worries about his loved ones. Tifa. Denzel. All his friends. His family. He wants to protect them. How will they go on without him? What if he doesn't have time to tell them how he really feels? What if it's too late? He once again underestimates just how loved and cherished he really is, with everyone gathering together to be with him, letting him know that they're not going anywhere. Tifa especially. She'd be right there beside him on his deathbed, holding his hand the entire time.

Genesis: Genesis just gets wild, destructive, and more impulsive than usual. He LOVES life, LOVES living. To lose it all is an existential break for him that causes him to become reckless and angry, mindlessly seeking out pleasurable distractions in order to ward off the anguish and pain of illness, regression. Eventually, Genesis just decides that if he IS going to die, better to go out in a blaze of glory. One last big FUCK YOU to the world that robbed him of the chance to live. A final stand against a hated enemy. A noble sacrifice for those he loves. Maybe even one last reckless bit of fun. Genesis plans for the mother of all showstoppers, a grand exit to ensure his name is not forgotten.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth initially expected to be angry and upset--after all, that's how most people feel in such scenarios. But apart from his reluctance to be permanently parted from his few and far between loved ones, he curiously feels a sense of....relief. Relief. Peace. Letting something go, something that has long burdened him, long caused him pain. It's over now. No more questions. No more strain. No more self-suppression. Needles and tanks. Cells and cages. All of it gone. He's free. He's escaped. And there are only outstretched hands beyond the veil, waiting shapes he'd so long hoped to approach, to know, to merge with.

He'll find her again.

He'll be with her. In her arms.

And he'll be warm, at long, long last.

Home.

[zablife]

Tommy's Scent

Tommy Shelby x nun!reader

A/N: The scent of smoke in the air, requested by @cillmequick and @peakyswritings. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: predatory behavior, unwanted advances, brief mention of assault Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

There was something about the earthy, spiced blend of smoke that would always be central to your memory of St. Hilda's. Arriving as a novice, the scent haunted your waking hours as it seemed to follow you through every corridor, never fully dissipating. The unique smell seeped from the banisters and books alike as though some specter lingered in every corner watching you.

The more it clung to you, the greater the weight on your mind until you could think of nothing else. Determined to banish the distraction, you took it upon yourself to air the classrooms every morning. However, breathing in lungfuls of soot and smoke from the nearby factories hardly seemed like a solution. The combination of smells gave you a nauseous headache which frequently made you ill.

By the end of your first month at the orphanage, your hands were already becoming red and chapped from the frequent, thorough scrubbing of your habit and stockings. At the end of your third, they were raw and bloodied. However, your nightly ritual had become something of a self-soothing gesture as you allowed the fresh scent of the soap to cleanse not only your belongings, but your anxious heart.

Your small room was something of a sanctuary for you in those days, the one place where the air remained pure. Loathe to leave the peace you'd created within those four walls, you began to delay the start of your day to remain there. Noticeably late for morning prayers on more than one occasion, you were swiftly reprimanded by Mother Superior who expressed doubts about your commitment.

After you pleaded with her to let you stay, she obliged on the condition that you performed a new duty. You listened intently as she explained there was a sick child in Warwickshire whose parents were to receive weekly communion. It seemed odd that this task had fallen upon the sisters of St. Hilda's when St. Mary's was much closer in proximity. However, you didn't dare question her judgement, especially after she'd shown you mercy.

The next morning you made the journey to a large estate called Arrow House in a shiny Bentley that had been sent just for the occasion. You tried not to show your excitement at the lavish accommodation, but you had to admit you were secretly thrilled at the prospect of making the drive in luxury each week.

The time passed quickly as you trained your thoughts on the little girl who'd fallen ill, wondering how you might find her upon arrival. Your nerves seizing hold of you before you'd realized, you began to fidget nervously as the large house came into view.

As the car came to a halt, you took a deep breath and held your head high as you exited. You were keen to project an air of confidence if the family was watching from the window.

However, you needn't have worried. There wasn't a single member of the Shelby clan to be found when the heavy oak door swung open, only a slight woman in a carefully pressed uniform. She ushered you inside as she studied you with piercing green eyes, stiffly introducing herself as the housekeeper.

Though you couldn't say why, the hair on the back of your neck prickled as you followed her down the hall. It might have been her unfriendly demeanor or the sudden rush of wind as the front door closed behind you, but an disquieted feeling came over you. The sense of déjà vu only grew stronger as a familiar woodsy, slightly sweet smell met your nostrils.

There was no time to reconcile your thoughts as the housekeeper left you at the threshold of Mr. Shelby's office, clutching your handbag against your body. By sheer willpower, you rapped upon the door, reminding yourself you were here to deliver communion to the Shelbys. Out of duty for this sacred act, you were compelled into the room where you glimpsed a man in only his waist coat and rolled sleeves sat at the desk. A rush of embarrassment caused you to falter, unaware he would be dressed so informally.

"Come," he commanded without looking up from his papers and the authority in his voice dictated nothing less than strict obedience.

Taking a seat across from him when he gestured, your gaze locked onto his sky blue eyes. They appeared quite angelic in the light, framed by his long, dark lashes. However, there was a hardened look about him which gave you a chill.

He hadn't failed to notice the effect he had on you, leaning forward to offer a cigarette. You shook your head as you politely declined, reaching into your bag for the small case containing the communion wafers.

"That won't be necessary," he muttered as he lit up.

You watched intently as he inhaled, your concern growing as his chest expanded like some great beast. The gentle roll of smoke tumbling from his mouth and nostrils did nothing to suppress your anxiety, especially as you were struck with a sudden revelation. The scent haunting you all those months was his unique blend of tobacco.

The clink of his lighter snapping shut jolted you back to reality and the purpose of your visit. "Mr. Shelby, I'm afraid, I don't understand. You asked me here, but you no longer wish to receive communion?"

The cigarette burned slowly between his fingers, curls of smoke reaching the high ceiling long before he gave an answer to your query.

Staring into the roaring fire beside him, Mr. Shelby's eyes reflected the bright orange hue of the flames as he admitted, "My daughter died last month. So, you see, I've no need."

You gulped harshly at his words, but quickly recovered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Would you care to say a prayer together?"

He only laughed at your suggestion, "And what good would that do her now, ey?"

"Prayer has seen me through difficult times since I was a child," you answered, staring at him earnestly.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger as he punctuated his words. "When I was a boy I carried a screwdriver and a blade and everyone believed I had the power to lay curses."

Your blood ran cold upon hearing this, but you had to admit you were intrigued by his statement. "Do you?" you ventured, holding your breath for his answer.

Without breaking eye contact he affirmed, "Yes, I do."

You shuddered involuntarily as another chuckle escaped his lips and you became suspicious he'd asked you here only to humiliate you. Whether driven by grief or malice, you didn't know, only that you'd become terribly afraid of him. Reaching for the rosary in your pocket, you removed it and began rubbing your thumb over the beads to soothe yourself.

You didn't realize you'd closed your eyes to the devil across from you until he was standing at your side, one hand clamped against the back of your neck. "I wouldn't try that," he advised as he caught sight of your lips moving in silent prayer. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered a cruel taunt, "No one is listening."

The following moments were a blur, his body too close for comfort and his words a mixture of threats and perverse longing. He'd watched you from the day you arrived at St. Hilda's, careful to keep to the shadows whenever he visited Mother Superior.

Upon his confession, your mind traversed the path of your early days at the orphanage when you'd been assigned to teach Latin. Suddenly you were lost in memory:

The twist of the door knob down the hall caused you to jump before turning your attention back to the lesson you were teaching. As the ancient wood creaked upon its hinges, you redoubled your efforts reciting the lesson as you'd rehearsed. However, the potency of the scented smoke caused you to freeze with chalk dangling from your fingertips.

As though in a trance, you moved to the doorway, your head tilted at an angle to follow the dark figure now striding away from you. In the shadows of the darkened hall, you could make out the outline of a man in a peaked cap. His dark, dusty coat flapped behind him as he disappeared from view, leaving nothing more than a few dirty footprints to prove his existence.

"You knew I'd been there," Mr. Shelby uttered and you cried out in horror at his ability to read your mind. It was beyond comprehension how he'd known your every move. "You wanted to know me too, didn't you?" he asked, hands roaming your body despite your thrashing. You couldn't answer, catatonic in the face of his brazen assault.

What seemed to be a lifetime later, you collected yourself from the floor and bolted for the door. Hurtling down the hall as fast as you could with tears blurring your vision, you eventually reached daylight, but in your haste to escape, your feet stumbled on the stone steps outside Arrow House. Falling to your knees, you winced as the gravel cut into your legs.

"Let me help you to the car," a calm, even voice boomed behind you. Thomas Shelby came into view above you, hand extended like a perfect gentleman.

"Don't touch me," you snapped, chest heaving for breath. A spark of indignant rage caught fire inside his crystal blue eyes before taking a deliberate step back when he noticed the driver approaching.

Smoothing his hair back, he turned to the older man announcing, "William, Sister Y/n seems to have hurt herself. Please help her to the car."

As William took hold of your elbow, you rose to face Mr. Shelby with a look of determination. Inwardly you vowed to tell Mother Superior everything as soon as you returned and your steely eyed gaze said as much. It was the very reason he returned to his office at that moment, to make a phone call of his own.

And thus your confession about Mr. Shelby's behavior did not go as planned. The moment you divulged the false pretenses under which you'd been brought to Arrow House, her apathy turned to anger. Incensed at your accusations, she reprimand you for telling such “fanciful tales."

However, you could not accept the injustice that had been done. “You're aware of his wickedness and you do nothing?” you gasped in disbelief, glancing down at your bloodied legs as proof something had indeed happened that day.

"Mr. Shelby is a very generous benefactor. In fact, the Grace Shelby Foundation is the biggest single source of funding for this charitable institution. If he asks for your visits to continue, then that is what you shall do." When she was finished, she pursed her lips tightly to convey her resolve and you realized it was her final word on the matter.

You took the long, lonely walk back to your room in a stupor. The moment you closed the door, you allowed yourself a moment of pity and cried until your eyes were as red as your hands which scrubbed ceaselessly to erase the scent of him.

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@helen06dreamer

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@elliaze

@snickersmee

@call-sign-shark

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

@justrainandcoffee

@ryecosse

@garrison-girl-08

@copinghex

@dandelionprints

@look-at-the-soul

@cillianmurphyfanatic

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@babayaga67

@babaohhhriley

@kmhappybunny240

@rangerelik

@polishcrazyone

@shelby-fangirl00

@thomashelbyswife

@mythos-writes

@writeroutoftime

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peakyltd

@holacia3

@novashelby

@moral-terpitude

[quinnverse]

“What does it matter if I invited you when you refused? You’re clearly not interested in bedding me-- which I suppose I should be grateful for, but…” Letting out a huff, Emma shook her head. To finish that sentence would be to confess more than she cared to admit. And she'd already given him enough for one day.

“Then stop being jealous!” She challenged, as though it were as simple as choosing to not be ruffled. If he didn't want her trying to make him jealous, then he should stop acting like he was jealous. His behaviors only made Emma want to taunt him, want to make him confess deeper feelings that he had, whether they were positive or negative.

“I do know how to count, thank you very much. And I believe your vulgar words about my body deserved a slap to the face. Thus, we are even." Rubbing at her fingers beneath the leather, she continued, ignoring the light sting that such a blow had induced. "Unless you think insulting my womanhood deserves two slaps?”

And he deserves true affection, does he not? She averts her gaze, knowing he was right. If she kept up the charade long enough, Emma didn't think it would've been impossible to grow genuine feelings for someone like Mister Finnegan, but that didn't change the fact that her reasons for pursuing him were disingenuous.

“Yes...” Emma conceded with a weak nod. “He does.”

By all means his associate seemed genuinely sweet and the thought of flirting with him for purely selfish, insincere reasons wasn’t fair. His concerns for his friend were understandable and as much as she wanted to despise everything he did, she couldn’t deny that his protectiveness towards his friend was admirable. A part of her wondered if he’d be as protective of her if they married.

“I apologize. I do not wish to hurt Mister Finnegan. I would very much like to be friends with him, if anything. Besides, I doubt he would ever harbor any real feelings towards me. As you said, he’ll choose you over me, and you’ve made it clear you do not approve of my existence.” She ignored the fact that she was supposed to hate him, too. That she had been the one intent on making her distaste towards him known from the second they met.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I want you to want me?” She scoffed, but it didn’t hide the way she paled at the realization.

She did want him to want her. At first, it was merely so she could use it against him. So that the wound would be deeper once she’d sunken her claws in and tore them out. But after the kiss, after seeing the slivers of warmth beneath his arrogant façade, Emma couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted him to want her. At least if she knew he wanted her for more than her money, she might be willing to accept a proposal.

“Perhaps if you courted me properly, like a true gentleman, I wouldn’t need to make you jealous. If you wish for me to accept a marriage proposal, you could at least pretend to be likable.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “Instead of tricking me into kissing you and then rejecting me when I offer you more. You invoke impropriety and then deny it when I try to reciprocate, so make up your mind. If you want me for my family’s money, that’s one thing, but I don’t appreciate being thrown about like a ragdoll for your childish enjoyment. If you’re genuinely interested in me, act like it. Otherwise I would rather you treat me with the distain you truly feel.”

"Yes, I did those things, and yes, I bloody well instigated it, but I never once told you to invite me into your bedroom!" Benjamin exclaimed, pink-cheeked and shaking. "I told you I wanted to keep things appropriate, yet I guess your objective was to push me into another one of your infernal traps!"

Emma lurched forward, needling him and goading him, and despite the fact Benjamin wished to snap a rebuttal at each of her (regrettably sound) points, all he could do was press his lips shut and feel the fire in his face burn progressively hotter.

“I do not want him to choose me over you! Again, not everything is a competition, you dense, fatheaded man-child!" she seethed. "The only thing I want is for you to disappear from my life already. To leave me and my father alone."

"Then prove it!" Benjamin volleyed. "If you're not digging your claws into Finnegan for selfish means, and if you're so damnably intent on getting rid of me, then stop this outing at once! Quit with your blatant attempts at rousing me into jealousy!"

Without a moment's thought, Emma reared back and struck him harshly across the face. This time, her palm was clad in a leather riding glove as opposed to the soft, delicate silk of the night prior, so the hollow thwack caused momentary sparks of color to dance across his vision.

“How dare you, you bloody tuft-hunter. I take back what I said about you being a pig. Pigs are far too civilized to be compared to you.”

Despite this not being an attack on his true self, a nettled sense of agitation burned throughout Benjamin's chest, sharp and bilious. He raised a hand to his stinging cheek, breathing hard as loosened locks of hair fell into his eyes.

“I... believe that makes us even now,” she challenged.

Scoffing, Benjamin lowered his hand again, smoothing his palm across his weskit. "If that's even, I'm afraid you don't know how to count, Miss Dunster."

She sneered at him. "Gods, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? Tell me, then, if you think him marrying me is a bad idea, then why in God's name would you think it would be any different if I were marrying you?"

Fed up with her conjecture, Benjamin exclaimed, "It is not you I object to! What I take issue with is you are clearly using my friend to get to me, rather than harboring deep, genuine affection for him! And he deserves true affection, does he not?" Surging back toward her, his upper lip curled as he observed, "If you honestly wanted me to abandon this fruitless marriage, then you wouldn't be trying everything in your power to make me jealous...to make me want you." His breath hitched and his pulse quickened. "Or, perhaps, you actually want me to want you."

[hobnob2020]

The Veilguard review

Big spoilers ahead for the people that haven't finished the game yet.

So after plugging 70+ hours I've finally completed Veilguard.

This will just be a general overview of how I felt about the game, I'll likely do a separate one for Solas/Mythal and Lavellan and one for a Lucanis romance.

First off I want to say that any negative criticism I had for the game I am reminded of how difficult this game was to get off the ground running in the first place; it experienced multiple layoffs, it pulled the team to focus on Anthem when it failed, the team was reduced, OG writers left and multiple people lost their jobs once their work was complete and lets not forget those that worked on this during a pandemic so I think it's important to keep coming back to this so that we can just appreciate what we had as an end product.

Now the end product itself, did I enjoy it? absolutely.

I've laughed, I've been giddy, I've been angry at times and in those final moments was reduced to tears that reconciliations were reached and it was the end of a very long 10 year wait.

I want to start from the beginning where we welcomed our Rooks because holy moly is the character creator detailed. I mean seriously every single Rook I've seen is a catwalk model 😂

Every faction felt different and the brief history to your character was really well done; I went with a female mage elf I the Crows and I loved being a Crow from the get go; the decision that she made that essentially forced her to leave the Crows because she'd basically f*cked up a mission was really interesting because there's still that tension once she returned with Viago (who I adored BTW, his disappointing fatherly persona against Teia's comfort and protectiveness was just perfect) and it set the course for every Rook wanting to prove themselves.

Briefly touching on the Inquisitors creation I was so happy that this was an early decision and hearing her say "it's good to see you again" was like a stab to the heart and felt like I was being welcomed back home after such a long journey.

Once into the gameplay it's hard to ignore how beautiful the graphics look, Minrathous' design was so unexpected and how the locals were treated makes me wonder how Dorian ever survived 😂

There were certain scenes that just blew me away and made me realise just how far games have come to allow us them; the moment you open the doors at Weisshaupt and see Ghilan'nains massive looming face in the clouds was just breath taking, in fact the two gods in general were very well done and there wasn't enough of them in my opinion.

The animation as a whole was very good and again compared to Origins this game is on a different level of good (hate to compare it to other games but Balders gate is probably the closest contender).

There's a particular scene with Lucanis as a romance where he walks over to you after you basically say you like what you see and that Spite doesn't define him, the way his face moves, the little smile, the way his eyes drop to your lips when you touch him floored me and I think having motion capture for this game definitely paid off.

The mechanics of the game were fantastic and as I've yet to play anything other than my mage I am excited to play other classes and possibly Warrior for the first time across 4 games, although Spellblade ruined a mage for me as I love being able to be upfront in a battle and found it perfect for my Crow mage.

I went with purple Rook for this playthrough as I wanted a charming Crow who had far too much energy and was awkward in the best way possible and loved every minute of it; Bioware has always been very clever at establishing the different personalities and how they affect the world around them. Going into a scene and having your Rook react by themselves depending on their personality makes the character feel real and that we aren't just following the same thread of dialogue.

When you first meet Solas they didn't lie that it would feel like an end game mission, the dialogue was fantastic, his voice actor is just incredible and he has a talent to be confident, insecure, determined and doubtful of his own words all in one and it was very easy to fall In love with Solas during inquisition.

I really enjoyed how the first decision you make as Rook ends with the gods escaping, either Harding or Neve being injured which puts doubts in your friendship and leadership from the beginning, that Solas who we'd believed to be the big bad was essentially trapped and looked like a kitten compared to these evil beings who want world domination, it really makes the player question how are we going to fix this massive mistake that we've created, because it takes the gods no time to get to work whilst we scramble to find a team and cleanse multiple parts of Thedas at the same time aswell as setting up base in the fade where we dig deep into the history of Solas and the ancient gods past.

The companions of this game I felt were individuals in their own ways with their own back stories and present problems but I felt as a whole weren't as good as say the previous game; there was no double crossing mages or people with their own greed and agendas, no hidden pasts like Blackwall which personally fell abit flat for me.

In fact I'd say the only one who had an interesting story was Lucanis after his imprisonment and demonic possession and the struggles that came with it.

I don't think I'll romance anyone else other than Emmrich as the others just don't interest me.

It just felt like you were constantly flitting to the Lighthouse and back to grind out companion tasks in order to gain approval and faction points, there was no option to just have a conversation like previous games instead it was very much on their terms and where you were in the game which was something i really missed.

Still, their personalities were very different and characters like Lucanis, Taash and especially Emmrich stole my heart very quickly.

The banter was top notch quality as per 👌 some of my favourites were from Taash and Lucanis, just being a Crow in the middle of their conversations about capes was hilarious at times.

The voice acting as a whole was very good, I felt with some characters particularly Neve it felt abit flat in moments but Bioware have a knack for finding talented voices; having someone as bubbly and excited as Bellara to the deadpan and slightly blunt at times Taash made for a very diverse team.

Returning characters was always a welcome and there were some surprising cameos such as Isabella in the Lords of Fortune faction.

I know alot of people were disappointed that this game felt limited in bringing over past choices but it needed to make sense; Sera isn't going to return and be found in the deep roads etc, it needed to serve a purpose to The Veilguards story and I'm happy with the ones we did get.

When it came to the three decisions from inquisition yes I was disappointed at first; why are we ignoring who drank from the well, why aren't we talking about Hawke, who's ruling Fereldon, who's Divine?.

I think we need to remember that after 4 games the decisions from little to big are so vast that there's simply no way to fit it all in and satisfy everyone and baring in mind this game is for new players too.

Having this game set outside of Ferelden means those decisions won't carry weight in Veilguard, who is divine won't affect us, where Hawke is doesn't affect us because we know they'll either be in the fade or fighting against the evil.

And yes a codex could of helped address any of this but again, it's a smaller team now at bioware and the focus is on Rook this time around, it's their turn and tbh reading codex' is time consuming when you've got gods to fight 😂

The only decision I really wanted brought over was who drank from the Well because as a Solasmancer he was so pissed at me but I think I know why it was glossed over.

I think having Solas being able to control your Inquisitor would have the issue of consent and violation and as a romance that doesn't feel right, especially given how Mythal basically manipulated Solas and used him as a slave it just goes into uncomfortable territory.

We could also argue that Solas absorbed Mythals essence so all that's left is her memories and the tiny fragment you find in the crossroads so essentially Mythal ceases to exist thus there's no pledge anymore for the inquisitor and that she only needed her help to fight Corypheus, who knows but I'm glad Solas wasn't able to do that to the Inquisitor.

The endgame was amazing, finally killing Ghilan'nain was so satisfying and Lucanis was an absolute bad ass doing it, seeing Solas become the dreadwolf and hearing his pained cries was heartbreaking even if he couldn't stop betraying my Rook 😂.

Forcing you as a player to lose a character despite high factions and hero status was brutal, and I unfortunately lost both Davrin and Assan. As much as I loved them both, it made sense to his character to die in that way, and Harding has so much more to do for the dwarves and titans.

I'll talk about Solas/Mythal and Lavellan on another post but I was very happy with how it ended, seeing the art concept of him making himself tranquil just shows how differently it could of gone, and I honestly expected them to die in each other's arms.

If I think of anything else I'll add it onto this post but yeah, 10 years man and it's over, well not over completely as I'm creating an Emmrich romance as we speak but I can't believe years of speculation and doubt is now in our hands forever.

Yes this game could of been better in parts and blew my expectations away in others but I loved it and I think the negative criticism over characters like Taash, the three previous decisions, crazy solasmancers which bring the team down is so unjust and people need to reflect on themselves as humans.

All I would say to those that critic this game as heavy as they have is to take their time and play it again, you'll find things you missed the first time around, really read the codex', just sit back and understand what the characters are saying, read between the lines and just take it back to beginning of this post, this game very nearly didn't happen and alot of talented people that have given you this game have lost their jobs so please just be grateful for what we do have and pray that this isn't the end of dragon age.

Edit:

The whole Varric thing was probably my least favourite thing about the game, not because he died but it just didn't make sense that Rook didn't know until the very end.

I had my suspicions because he was always tired and going back to bed and something about it didn't feel right.

For other companions to say "oh we thought you knew" was just silly, I could understand Solas using his powers to create an illusion but why not on all the companions because surely Rook at some point was like "Oh i'll take some food to Varric" or "have you been to visit him", without that Rook just sounds crazy 😂

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

[asagirisfavoritepen]

Pushing the gay agenda onto bsd because I can

Ada:

- Dazai - demiromantic, bi, preference for women, he knew from like 10 he's not straight

- Kunikida - demiaroace, that's basically implied in the show, he/they pronouns, bi with preference for women, took him a very long time (like 22 years) to figure out he also likes men

- Ranpo - aroace spec, gay, prefers he/it pronouns but wouldn't actually care

- Yosano - lesbian, knew since day one, she/they

- Kyouka - she never thought abt this kinda stuff but she doesn't think she'd really care abt the gender of the person she likes, somewhere on the ace spectrum, doesn't care about pronouns

- Kenji - doesn't really understand, he says he loves everyone

- Atsushi - bi, preference for men (women scare him but it's understandable because the women he knows are Yosano and Kyouka), he/they but he's too afraid to ever tell ppl that

- Fukuzawa - literally never thought abt this before meeting Ranpo, but he now thinks he's bi without really any preference

- Tanizaki - transmasc he/him, is always too awkward to correct ppl

- Naomi - pan, absolutely no preference or care for the gender of the person she likes

- Haruno - she/he, aroace

Port Mafia:

- Chuuya - demiaroace, transmasc he/they, will correct you if you misgender him, bi with preference for men, he probably always knew he likes men and was shocked when he found out that some ppl only like one gender

- Kouyou - bi-curious but she's not wondering is she likes women, she's wondering if she likes men

- Mori - bi, preference for Elise

- Tachihara - never had the time to think abt, always assumed he's straight but then he got a crush on Gin and was panicking his gay. He's bi. Then after figuring out he's bi he realized he's also transmasc

- Gin - agender, couldn't care about pronouns, pan

- Akutagawa - demiaro, ace, bigender she/he

- Hirotsu - bi, huge preference for women, only like one man in his whole life

- Higuchi - lesbian (her crush on Aku is comphet), she/they

- Kaji - queer. Just queer. No label for this man woman thing

- Verlaine - they/them, gay

- Rimbaud - he/she/they, gay(er)

- Albatross - she/he, bi

- Pianoman - pan (Lippmannsexual), uses he/him pronouns but wouldn't really care if ppl would use any other pronoun

- Lippmann - gender-fluid, bi with preference for nb ppl, will sue snyone (kill anyone) if they misgender him

- Doc - gay

- Iceman - aroace

- Odasaku - doesn't care for a label, likes who he likes, is who he is

The Guild:

- Fitzgerald - Zeldasexual, never loved or will love anyone else so he's not even thinking about it (his pronouns are U/S/A /j)

- Louisa - bi, preference for women

- Poe - has a gay crises every other day because "what if this is the wrong label????" So he just says gay or queer

- Lucy - transfem she/her will kill anyone who misgenders her

- Margaret - seems homophobic but is actually an ally, she thought Lucy how to girl, she's questioned if she's bi before

- Nathaniel - homophobic homosexual (bisexual but refuses to admit his crushes on men because of religion)

- Mark - bi

- John - he/she, gay

- Lovecraft - genderqueer, aroace spec

- Herman - ally

Hunting dogs:

- Fukuchi - gay for Fukuzawa

- Tecchou - doesn't really understand it, he thinks that ppl shouldn't even label just love, and doesn't care what pronouns ppl use for him but if ppl misgender others he will correct them

- Jouno - gay, transmasc, will torture ppl if they misgender him

- Teruko - she/they/xe, queer

Decay of Angels:

- Sigma - agender, any pronouns, aroace spec

- Nikolai - he/it transmasc, gay

- Fyodor - aroace

- Bram - was once asked by Nikolai if he's gay and said "No. I'm actually too tired to feel gay right now." He/she

Other ppl:

- Ango - doesn't have time to fall in love or even think abt it, he/she

- Tsujimura - bi-curious

- Ayatsuji - says they're above gender (agender) and aroace

- Aya - currently questioning her gender (and life choises)

- Adam - non-binary, any pronouns

- Katai - transmasc, he/they/it, bi

[indigo-constellation]

so have you already heard about daniil's madness meter? i want to talk about madness meter. it's so amazing. daniil's fun steppes into madness. the potential of clara having one too

I HAVE

we've known about that his mechanics would be different from 2022 so I'm really excited to see it actually happening, and I'm wondering if it's something you have to keep balanced between "apathy and psychosis" as they say, because oh boy does it feel like you have to do that sometimes. I was watching the stream with a few friends and I was constantly saying that the meter on the top was the mental health one, and it's interesting to see the effects it has on him. I don't like some of the language about it but I'm choosing to believe it's awkward translation stuff.

I also love how Danko's hand shakes when he has to shoot, no more trigger happy dangerous bachelor you will be sorely missed, but I think that this change does work very well for his character.

For Clara I don't think she'd have those mechanics at all. A friend of mine is currently playing Changeling route for the first time and I think that adding a mental state meter wouldn't make the game any better. I think that a Pathologic 4 would have completely new cult mechanics tbh. Because Clara isn't a mind character like Daniil despite her being the most magical one, I think her game will have something about miracles and something about her powers of truth and her lies becoming true if that makes sense.