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l4long-winded · 6 days

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so, i received the following comment on archive:

"it went from sweet, to sensual, to smut in just one short chapter. which i love.

"i like to think that carmen is an acts of service kind of dude, he expresses his affections through things like making meals for reader. i think it’d be cute if reader like forgot they're lunch at home or smth, and then carmen would deliver it to them in person–just a cute lil thought." - topostapocalyptic

so, here is my version of that. i tried so hard and i just can't look at it any longer!

o.s. basil, monterey jack, and the simplicity of a kind gesture

summary: you're late for work, rushing out the door, and carmen notices you've left your lunch behind. he can't help but interject his talents (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: this took me so. so. embarrassingly long. i am not super proud of it. i feel like i needed to finish it in order to get out of my current rut in writing, though. i finished school up and graduated recently, on a lighter note! please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: stress, worrying, temper flares, cursing, shirtless!carmy, established relationship, journalist!reader, commentary on nutrition, poor eating habits, inner dialogue (just a little), nature's own slander, anxiety depictions, original characters, moody!reader, some longwinded descriptions (as always), awkwardness, fluff, kissing, carmen's nervous tick, domesticity, implied (like one or two instances) smut, humor, an act of service, laughing while kissing, a small flashback, no use of pronouns for reader (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 3,207

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

“Stupid shithead,” you mutter.

You’re frantically grabbing items into your hands. Your keys, your purse, the wallet that goes into the purse, your phone. Anything covering the counter. It’s the same counter your knee knocks right into as you turn the corner. Immediately, you bite the inside of your cheek as pain floats throughout your kneecap, a harsh sting that floats into warm pressure down your calf. You’re so self-aware of your blood’s rising temperature in this instance that it nauseates you.

“Motherfucker,” you blurt, sucking in a sharp breath through your nostrils. You lift your foot from the ground and lean a majority of your weight onto your opposite heel, elbow pressing onto the counter you envision your stupid boss’s face on. You would punch it if it didn’t mean breaking your knuckles on ceramic in your growing agitation. No, that’s irrational. You need that hand to type.

“Really hoping I’m not the motherfucker you’re talking about,” Carmen mumbles groggily as he emerges from down the hallway. His curls are tousled, somehow despite sleeping on your satin pillowcase his head continued to slide off. He’s not used to sleeping over here, but he’s willing to learn, if his tossing and turning and eventual spooning didn’t illustrate that to you already. There’s something to be said about the way he adjusts the front of his boxer shorts. Despite the adjustment, the briefs hang low on his hips, the v-line of him greeting you as happily as the trail descending to his waistband does. His shirtless form sleepily walks towards you to place a kiss onto your forehead.

“No, no, not you,” you say, gracious for his forehead kiss, but still rubbing your knee to alleviate the issue. He glances at it in concern, an eyebrow lifting. Before he can ask, you stand tall and give him a quick peck on the cheek. Your knee aches, but the less Carmen worries, the better.

“Stay as long as you like, spare key’s in the bergamot out front, I gotta get the fuck out of here two minutes ago,” you rush out in one string of words.

Carmen’s blinking sleep from his eyes, watching as you stomp out of the front door. He craves a longing kiss goodbye, but he’s not daring to request it seeing how urgently you’re behaving. He heads to the window, two fingers plucking the blinds open to observe you hop into your vehicle and speed off too fast for him to feel secure. He frowns. Carmen’s hand scrubs down his face, a migraine pounding in his temples that feels an awful lot like that worry you didn’t want to implement within him.

You’re working more than usual. He admires your work ethic, he does as it resembles his own, but he can’t stop from thinking about how tired you are when you visit him at the restaurant, or when you stay over at his place. You’re snapping consistently, and it may be at inanimate objects like your broken toaster, or the squeaky hinge belonging to your closet door, or your recent victim, this counter you have apparent beef with. The stress is collecting rapidly and Carmen unfortunately is starting to see the patterns interwoven in his skin stitching up your neck. He doesn’t want that for you. He knows you don’t want it for him either, so he’s trying to think of ways he can bring a smile to your face, or at least ease some kind of method to relax the both of you.

Carmen glances around your kitchen and he notices the brown bag sitting in front of your microwave. Curiously, he maneuvers to grab it into his hand. He opens it up and finds a sandwich there, lunchmeat stuffed between two slices of wheat bread. No condiments, no vegetables, no other ingredients. Just bread and turkey. It’s… it’s such a sad sandwich. He wishes you would’ve at least slabbed on some peanut butter and jam if you were going with the easiest route. Two slices of simple turkey breast are hardly nutritional.

Hypocrite. You drank a Coke and ate a bowl of off-brand Froot Loops the other night for dinner.

Carmen shakes his head free of his intrusive thoughts, picking his phone out of his pocket as he plans to text you that you forgot your lunch. You shouldn’t be too far down the road. Then again, as his thumb hovers over your messages together, he recalls how you’re already late. You don’t have time to turn back around for a shitty sandwich you probably won’t even eat. He’s seen you come home and dump these brown bags, still full of whatever meal you threw together in three minutes because you didn’t bother to take your lunch break.

“Not today,” he mumbles under his breath. He retrieves the sad sandwich and takes a bite, chewing it as he washes his hands in the sink. Then, he opens the fridge, scanning through what’s available. There’s not much to work with, but he’s efficient if anything.

“Blegh,” he scrunches his face, the flavor of the bread thick on his tongue as he smacks his lips, “Nature’s Own.”

You’re typing a storm in your cubicle. The deadline for your story is in a day. A day. You didn’t even have time to gather the interview materials and are still waiting on an email from a supervisor from whoever the fuck knows. The name is written somewhere on the clutter of sticky notes hanging precariously off the frame of your desktop. But then again, who has time to crane their neck to check in the middle of meeting your deadline? You’re making due with what you have on hand, your eyes strained from how long they’ve stared at your computer screen.

“Psst…” comes a voice from behind. Fingertips tap your shoulder, momentarily disrupting you from staring at your keyboard. You swivel in your rolling chair, eyes annoyed and tired.

“What?” You spit. Your gaze is unamused watching the world spin and land on Bill, the secretary from the front desk. You almost cringe the same way Bill in front of you seems to do at the tone in reaction. At that, you pick up your face, clearing your throat and straightening your posture, hoping it’s as polite as you wish to convey.

“Your, uh, boyfriend is up front,” he points towards the hall. Bill is jittery. You wonder if it’s because of an excessive use of caffeine or if because your slip genuinely scared him. You take a deep breath and compose yourself more than you have already.

“Oh… I’ll be right out,” you reassure, feeling bad for the small snap you engaged in. Bill is only doing his job. He’s reporting on a surprise visit from Carmen. That doesn’t mean it’s Carmen’s fault for showing up out of the blue, but yours for letting your cool flee, if only momentarily.

As Bill nods and heads off down the hall, you glance at your computer screen one last time. You choose to stop in the middle of the sentence. You tell yourself it’s because you think it’ll be easier to think of a fresh idea to continue when you come back and not because you’re at a loss for content at the present time. You stand up, palms smoothing the front of your vest down your waist as you walk from your cubicle and repeat the same steps as Bill on his way back to his position at the front of the office building. The ninety degree angle of the corner gradually unveils to you your boyfriend Carmen staring down at his phone, a brown bag in his opposite hand beside his pant leg.

He looks up as if sensing your presence, a shift in energy in the room he detects and smiles at from afar. His phone slides into his pocket the closer you approach him, eyes seemingly glowing underneath the shadow of his tan hat’s rim. It’s that kind of crystal embedded in his irises that makes them sparkle with a glass’s shine and an artist’s yearning. But his eyes carry ocean water, not wine, and the reflection of his muse, your face expanding over the roundness of them as you near him and greet him with a hug.

“Hey, your day alright?” He asks, his voice behind your ear. Your chin rests on his shoulder, one of his biceps cradling the back of your head into him. His other arm is still at his side as he kisses your temple and takes a step backward. You catch Bill glancing up from his computer at the two of you from his desk for a millisecond.

“Sure,” you opt for. Maybe if you say it enough, you’ll believe it. You’re capable of tricking your brain so you don’t psyche yourself on it with your overthinking too much… right? “Why’re you here?”

Carmen’s lips press tightly together. He doesn’t say anything, leveling you with his gaze and a raise of his eyebrows that even cause his hat to slightly lift on his forehead. One single look illustrates how wrong of a statement that was.

Replaying it in your head, you notice the edge to your voice, that small extra bit of irritation that made it to your lips. You didn’t mean it, much like you hadn’t meant it when you sharply responded to Bill’s alert.

You sigh and shake your head, one hand coming up to apologetically stroke his arm.

“I didn’t mean it like that–”

“I know,” he halts your explanation. Unlike you, Carmen falls back on the natural softness of his voice, the one where he refutes raising the volume of his words because you’re always standing so goddamn close to him. Another reason could possibly be that you’re having a hard day and he’s sparing you from an unnecessary argument. It’s not like he hasn’t poured lemon over wounds after particularly rough days at The Bear himself.

His hand with the brown bag thrusts in front of you. Short space separates you further. How ironic. He doesn’t want to poke the bear.

“I, uh, brought you your lunch.”

“Thanks…” You murmur awkwardly.

Carmen’s fingers brush yours once you exchange the bag. He curls those same fingers and attaches the back of his knuckles to his lips, stroking them back and forth over his mouth in that nervous tick of his. He stares along your face, the current contemplation in his head somehow both loud and eerily silent. He’s searching for something to say and it’s obvious.

“Yes, well… have a good day,” he settles for. Carmen turns away for a moment, but you don’t like leaving it this way. Especially not since he took the time to drive here and bring you your lunch. He’s subtly advising you to eat without pushing or adding another task you’ll be fretting over.

Your hand captures his, causing him to shift his eyes back to yours. You smile a little brighter. It’s not forced. The gesture is sweet. You lose sight when you’re stressed as any human does.

“I appreciate it, Carm. Thank you,” you redo your gratitude with sincerity.

Carmen’s hand relaxes in yours. He utilizes the hold you have on him in his own favor, tugging you closer to him, engulfing you into his arms. His scent calms you, lingering cigarettes, mint, pomade, and what seems to be a touch of olive oil. He must be working from home again on his day off. Your belly does a small flip thinking of him working comfortably from your home.

“It’s nothing,” he speaks into your hairline, dropping a few more pecks. He notices your shoulders lowering as he does, encouraging him to continue and then return his eyes back to yours.

“But seriously, have a good day,” he repeats, squeezing your forearms.

“Please,” he whispers. You have no choice but to promise him with a grateful and instant nod this time. You’ll find something to get you through the rest of your shift. You can do it for Carmen.

You can’t say you don’t feel defeated as you trudge into the breakroom with your lunch bag shortly after Carmen’s visit. You highly considered skipping lunch altogether to grant yourself more time to work on your report. However, Carmen walked here to get this to you. It’s not a short thing, either. You had to convince him to take your car so he could run some errands. He’ll be your ride back home after work. In the meantime, you’re going to eat to ease your conscience and so that you’re less cranky, minimizing the casualties of your unintentional attacks today. Your boss wouldn’t be as patient as Bill and Carmen.

You gradually open the bag, reaching in and furrowing your brows when your hand meets a cylindrical container first. You thought the bag felt heavier than a single sandwich should, but you were too distracted being apologetic with Carmen to realize he may have added something to your meal. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to resist doing such a thing with how he’s always taking care of you in that department. He shares his talent where he can’t utter his affections, crafting in opposition to orating. Unless, it’s a different word using the root “ora.” He’s rather good at that, too.

“Carmen, you didn’t,” you mutter under your breath, unscrewing the cap of the first container. Basil, garlic, sweet confection underlying in the background, and roasted tomato spike up in a familiar aroma, the trapped steam floating up to blanket your nose in humid warmth and a nostalgic trip to when you sat with him at a fast food restaurant and he poked fun at you for ordering a grilled cheese.

“Who orders a grilled cheese without tomato soup?”

“Me. I do. Now give me a sip of your soda.”

He did. He said he felt obligated to since your grilled cheese looked dry.

The memory inspires you to reach further into the bag, and of course, you bring out a wrapped item suspiciously in the shape of a square. You already know what’s hidden inside as you undo the layers Carmen meticulously folded for you. Heat sticks to your fingertips. It makes you wonder if he jogged on his way here to get this all to you for it to be this warm still.

The sourdough bread in your hands is perfectly golden without being drenched in oil or even close to being charred on the sides. The bite you take is better than the appetizing appearance it has, a cheese pull connecting your teeth marks on the surprise sandwich to your mouth, steam rising off the strings of the monterey jack and cheddar webs. It pairs nicely with the tomato soup Carmen’s provided, the distinct taste mellowing the salt and tang of the sourdough, something sugary and smooth and still tart melding the classic flavors along your tongue.

You didn’t expect this, and part of you is asking why you didn’t see it coming because of who Carmen is and what he does for a living and for a hobby and for a passion, but you’re not going to mull over your perception’s off-game today. No, you’re going to finish your grilled cheese, soup, and that report. You’ll be sure to credit Carmen in due time.

Carmen’s waiting for you in the parking lot behind your office building. You see his reflection on the driver’s side mirror, his eyes lowered to his phone in his hand. He doesn’t see you coming, his head lifting up curiously as you approach his side instead of getting into the car on the passenger’s. Carmen blinks up at you, the window down most likely for him to get some air. It’s been getting hotter and hotter in Chicago with the change in seasons and your AC isn’t working, as per usual.

“What, do you want to drive—?”

You silence Carmen, obstructing his question with the barrier of your lips. If he’s shocked or surprised, it quickly gets replaced with acceptance and an instant response. He kisses you back, his chin tilting upwards, head perching up out of the window to meet your slumping frame. Your head lolls behind the lead of your mouth, seeking out the feeling and tenderness of Carmen’s lips that he parts to swipe his tongue in rhythm of an upstroking graze. You smile after that, the action creating a centimeter of distance that Carmen closes again, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck to tug you back into him.

You indulge him, laughing against his lips. A smile of his own stretches over his mouth, but he doesn’t detach himself like you did. He goes back for more, stopping only when your hands are patting his wrist to regain his attention back without depriving him too much of your mouth he’s ensnaring with his.

“I finished my report,” you shyly say. You made a big deal about it today and your job in general has been very demanding, causing your behavior to have shifts in line with the spikes in your mood.

“Knew you would,” he replies. He’s still kissing you. They’re spanned out pecks to allow you both to speak during, but he’s making it hard to remember what you wanted to say.

“And my grilled cheese,” you mutter into his smothering stamps. He lets up hearing that, pulling back slightly so he can peer into your eyes. He’s in your shoes this time, sheepish as he tries to casually nod.

“Yeah? And…?” He pauses, gauging your reaction with a suspicious glint in his eyes. You laugh again, nudging his shoulder.

“And my soup,” you stand up taller from the window, fingers resting over the bicep half hanging out of it. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he saves you the speech, knowing you far too well about how you don’t want him to waste his time. He’s going to convince you someday that his acts of service for you will never be a waste of his time. His hand comes over yours on his arm, glancing at your twitching fingers he’s heard typing in the long hours of the night. He’s not the only insomniac among you two.

“You should let me make you lunch more often,” he bargains. You playfully roll your eyes. This is one debate you’ll continue to have for a long time, it seems. He already works so hard.

“Slow down there, chef.” You use one of Carmen’s tricks, draping your mouth back over his before he has the chance to bullet point out his argument. He sighs, content from how you feel and yet that knowing frustration intertwined in that one breath lingers because he doesn’t mind putting together your future lunches whatsoever.

“Thank you,” you pur, and Carmen releases his grip on his conviction. For now, anyway. He’s planning on bringing it up again later. He’s just getting too lost in your appreciative kissing. It’s convincing him to do this again, actually. He’s plotting a new list of ingredients, cherries and almonds and white whine and… he loses his train of thought when your teeth scrape his bottom lip.

#l4l.writes #basil monterey jack and the simplicity of a kind gesture #l4l.carmy #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #l4l.oneshot

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 days

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I love your blog so much!! You're without a doubt my favorite writer on this app, you write yanderes so so well and you just manage to capture so amazingly the personality of EVERY character you write, especially Byakuya, i love him so much, and you just write him so well, i've been reading and rereading your works nonstop!

Could i please request yandere Byakuya with a Reader who's very kind and gentle and they like to follow him around (not in an annoying way, but in an attempt to try to befriend him and make sure he is okay during the killing game, since he is kinda excluded for being an ass). Better yet, how would he react to Reader actually leaving him alone after he went too far, or was too mean to them

Love everything you post so much, feel free to deny, remember to eat and drink water!

Thank you so so much! I'm happy i could make you happy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sweet ‘n Sour | Yandere Byakuya Togami

It’s honestly an honor

That you’re transmigrated into an anime/game

Too bad it’s the killing game of Danganronpa

And of course, with you thrown in the middle things are really unpredictable

So you’ll comfort yourself in being as kind to these characters as you possibly can

Especially Byakuya

A fan favorite and an intriguing ally throughout the game

Of course, you just gravitate toward him

Even though he sneers and insults you

Sometimes threatens

But you don’t mind…

…

Even though….

Those comments are beginning to hurt

It’s one thing to love a meaner character through the screen but in person, it’s pretty hard

despite your inclination to maintain your usual smile and gentle actions

After a while, you just stop trying

Too bad some may consider that your biggest mistake:

“Honestly I was hoping you’d turn up as one of the corpses during this farce; it probably would have made it even more interesting.”

That was it.

That was the last straw for you. Toko could have all his time and attention for all you care. The sheer fact you’ve put up with this for so long disgusts you. To hear your own life be spat on by the guy you’d been trying to extend a helping hand to–it was despicable. (Of him or of you, you couldn’t decide.)

“Ah, I see. Have a good night then.”

That was the last time you went out of your way to speak to him; immediately changing your schedule to accompany someone else. Since you’d been away with Byakuya you almost forgot how kind the rest of the group was.

“(Y/n) I’m so happy you’re willing to hang out now! Let’s make donuts together!”

“After that I hope you’ll indulge me and Naegi in a puzzle of sorts.”

“I-if it’s alright with you..”

It was refreshing.

To be told you were actually wanted around was somehow so fulfilling.

What terrible company you’ve been keeping.

“I’d love to!” Within a matter of days you are feeling the warmth of friendly interactions; whereas the man you’re avoiding is having a….less than stellar reaction.

Crash!

Toko was excited that her Byakuya-sama had finally chased you. A rival weak enough to be effected by words wasn’t much of a rival at all! But upon your absence in only a few hours into his daily routine Byakuya had made an intense realization.

That he desperately desired your attention on him.

He didn’t have to actually see you skirting your routine with him to know he hated the thought of you spending any amount of time with his classmates rivals. It literally made his skin itch and his throat close up with every minute away from you. Naturally he doesn’t care that even Toko is unnerved by the tantrum he throws. Books are strewn about, the shelves dangerously leaning against one another. All of it just an emphasis of the palpable malice emanating off of Byakuya. In the middle of the ruins he just stands still.

Alarmingly still.

Like a predator looking out.

Are they hunting? Scoping? Contemplating the ways to torture their enemies?

No one really knows.

Even when he pulls at his hair and belts out in an uncouth laughing fit. In an instant he stops demanding Monokuma show himself this instant. He needed to find you. Now. He’ll make it a point to inform the headmaster of his own teaching.

Because apparently you–being the kind and gentle soul you are should be able to withstand all kinds of people. Especially him. Always him. So he’ll offer his own guidance by keeping you within arms reach at all times.

He expects you to persist against anything he can throw at you.

How else are you going to rule the world as a Togami?

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere byakuya togami #yandere byakuya x reader #yandere togami danganronpa #yandere danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #yandere danganronpa trigger happy havoc #yandere byakuya togami x reader #yandere togami byakuya

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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I was thinking about your angst post and how it's a little precursor to the TikTok saga-

What if Eddie's doing a live stream and for whatever reason, Ozzy's not around. Potty break maybe, he's usually no more than 2 minutes. But of course all it takes is 2 minutes for Steve to slip into a seizure, one of his bad ones. And the live catches enough of it before Eddie frantically tosses his phone and ends the stream. How do you think fans would react?

I’ve actually had a similar thought to this!

Eddie has never sat down and been like, ‘this is what’s wrong with my husband.’ Why would he? Steve is not a celebrity. He has no interest in fame, he’s deeply private, and it’s no one’s business. Eddie has occasionally made comments or referenced Steve’s health issues just because it’s apart of their lives.

Dedicated fans who take all these little throw-away comments and create a profile of Eddie’s life will connect the dots between ‘Steve gets migraines’ and why the lights are low in a video or ‘Ozzy is a service dog’ to the thud you can hear on a live-stream that causes Eddie to run out of the room. There have been many times where Eddie has been live and will drop everything, leave the room, and not come back for minutes to hours. He never provides an explanation of where he went or why.

Eddie’s live streaming in his home studio. He’s got his guitar in his lap and a notepad next to him, and he’s playing this little interactive game he does with his fans where they’ll write a song together. Steve’s not a common feature to live-streams like this but he’s slightly in-frame tonight.

Eddie’s writing down a lyric a fan sent in the chat when he’s suddenly hit in the face by a hand. He startles and opens his mouth to complain but when he looks at Steve, all he sees in the jerky motion of Steve’s arm as it spasms.

And he freezes with his mouth still hanging open. He freezes like he always does when it’s a big seizure because his first thought is never seizure, it’s always Chrissy Cunningham. He freezes so he doesn’t think to move his phone away immediately. It’s only a half-second that he’s sitting there with his mouth hung open and terror in his eyes before he springs into action, but it feels like a million years to him and the chat.

Eddie bumps the table with his phone on it, and it falls so all the chat can see is the woodgrain, but they can hear Eddie talk to himself as he moves Steve into a safer position. They can hear him talk to Steve about how it’s okay, “It’s a big one but it’s okay. It’s fine. We’ll shake it out and go to bed, and – and where’s Ozzy? Oz?!”

It is a tense two and a half minutes and then silence until Eddie picks up his phone, ends the live-stream without a word, and calls Dustin. He’ll find out later that Steve had let Ozzy out into the backyard and forgot about it. He’ll make plans to install a doggy door that they’ll probably never do and when Steve wakes up exhausted and not all there, Eddie will repeat every reassuring word that he can think of until Steve falls asleep knowing that he’s safe.

In the morning, he’ll see the outpour of people worried, concerned, sympathetic with their own stories of seizures. He’ll make a short video letting people know that Steve is fine. He’s resting. He’ll let his students know that he won’t be at school, but that he’s already writing pop quizzes if they aren’t good for the substitute. But Eddie will never tell Steve that the twenty thousand people in his live stream that watched him have a seizure are wishing him well because he doesn’t think that it’ll go over well.

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

#I think that Steve would hate to be noticed.#Growing up everybody was always watching him and looking at him and forming opinions about him based on how he looked and who his family #was and he just hates it. Then once Eddie got famous it felt like even more people were staring at them and looking for flaws and making #opinions about him without even knowing him. And now he has these health issues and his body will betray him and people will think that #he's weak or not capable and they'll stare at him and he hates it so the thought that Eddie's fans watched him have a seizure would be #mortifying to him so Eddie is not going to tell him about it #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga #sorry it took so long to respond to this one

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talkingparrotkee · 1 year

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Re: Namor x Shuri working from a storytelling standpoint

I stumbled on a post trying to give an analysis of how Namor and Shuri "don't work" from a storytelling standpoint. After reading several of the objectionable points made and realizing I've seen them all before, I felt like trying my own hand to exemplify why these kinds of criticisms against "Nashuri" don't actually work. I didn't directly reblog to avoid being convoluted or dogpiling, but I'll be responding to specific points throughout.

Direct quotes are in orange

Linked sources and further information are in green

Warning: This article has many layers, musings, and points. After all, it's essentially a master collection of material. If you just want to jump to a certain point, you can. There are subtitles for every point.

The Oxymoron of Improbable and "Non-Sensical" Story Writing

In the context of specifically Wakanda Forever's story and nothing else, yes: as of now, Namor and Shuri being a romantic couple does not make "sense."

However, there is no such thing as a ship that doesn't make sense from a story-writing perspective.

With your pen, reality can be shaped according to your whim, or elements can be bent to fit the mold of a given reality. Story-writing-wise, anything can happen, and anything can work with the proper execution. A good writer knows how to suspend the reader's disbelief and make the seemingly improbable, seem probable.

Namor and Shuri already have the ingredients for chemistry and compatibility as characters, which are the two essential requirements in relationships. The media they're in gives you the room to potentially address their circumstance, like reviving Ramonda (coming back to life is no foreign concept to Marvel) or building off of the concepts already there (e.g., the Ancestral Plane or "dead not meaning gone"). There are also AUs.

Saying otherwise is simply putting a cap on your creativity and demonstrates a sheer lack of imagination.

Why Do People Ship Namor And Shuri?

To answer this question, Namor and Shuri:

Have undeniably strong chemistry. That was the first thing that had people question what their relationship would be. You don't have to register this as inherently romantic, but they have chemistry nevertheless.

Deeply connected with and paralleled-equaled one another. Shuri opened up to only Namor about her true grief. With Ramonda, Shuri closed herself off. When her mask cracked, she lamented that if she sat and merely thought of T'Challa, she'd burn the world and everyone in it. The ancestral plane, tethered to her subconscious and emotional state, lit up on fire the moment N'Jadaka mentioned T'Challa. Yet... Shuri felt that she could be emotionally vulnerable to Namor, seeking solace and answers within him. She could not only think of but also talk about T'Challa with Namor. This is after Namor was, in exchange, completely vulnerable and honest to her, showing her his scars and his cherished nation. Both characters did things they wouldn't do with anyone else. They felt seen and heard by the other. That is a beautiful testament to the bond they were forging before uh, yeah.

Shuri was healing in Talokan. It is directly said in the script Shuri was better than she was before she left, but the movie let it be a "show, don't tell." We already established she was finally unveiling her grief to Namor, but Talokan was also an escape for her. Her behavior and attitude were a sheer contrast to how she was earlier in the movie. Shuri was shown beaming, marveling at, and practically glowing as Namor showed her his world. Approximately, she genuinely smiled 11 times in under 3 minutes. She forgot her worries. The tension rolled off of her and let herself go "with the breeze". Her admiration and sense of wonder made him smile too. She was taken care of, a shame that her reason of stay wasn't preferable.

Shared several purposefully intimate moments.

Look hot and are hot together. Argue with a wall.

Can be the strongest, most unstoppable MCU power couple to date.

Create a rich, ethnic, and main poc ship and representation between a black African woman and a brown-skinned indigenous man. That's not common at all, and the thought of their cultures being connected, becoming one through their union is hair-twirling inducing. The idea of them creating a new era filled to the brim with their respective cultures and identities together, with them learning from one another, is very interesting.

They have many, many classic romantic-fantastical tropes poured into the batter that is their dynamic. You may have heard the comparisons to Beauty and The Beast (say thank you, Riri!), Aladdin ("I Can Show You The World"), Peter Pan and Wendy (Namor is deemed of a "Peter Pan" archetype. "Peter Pan" lost his Wendy, who is Shuri in this case. See Inframundo.) and Hades-Persephone.

The only reason why they're on opposite ends is due to outer forces and unfavorable circumstances at work. There's something interesting about their nuanced tragedy. There's a fun intrigue to find a way to "fix" what seems broken beyond repair, through understanding, love, character development, and healing.

Have a romantic anthem: Con La Brisa is a tender love song specifically created based on the underwater scene between Namor and Shuri. Foudequesh revealed that the meaning of the song was showing someone the sun for the first time.

Additionally, Namor and Shuri having romantic chemistry is not baseless. It was initially toyed with. Though they decided to characterize their relationship a bit differently and focus on grief-shared trauma, elements were still left in to give their relationship complexity. The way they relate and the things they did gave romantic undertones you can't just pluck out. Micheal P. Shawver, a colleague of Ryan Coogler and an editor of Wakanda Forever, said this much when asked about the possibility of Namor and Shuri having romance in their cards.

Note how Ryan Coogler, a writer and director of both Black Panther, even apparently thinks that Namor and Shuri are not unsuited for one another even then.

You can also view the original script where Namor is described as "charmed" and "smitten" with Shuri. It's only natural people pick up the pieces purposefully left behind.

Clarification Notes

Before we jump into this, there are things you need to know.

Note 1: None of this is bashing or permission to bash Ramonda, Riri, Shuri, or Nakia. They were justified and operating under grief and dramatic irony if you look at it from every perspective. Currently, this is just clearing up Namor and Talokan's perspectives because that is what's being targetted and unceremoniously characterized, but everyone has a case for them.

Note 2: This doesn't mean you need to ship Shuri and Namor. It's explaining why some do and clearing up misconceptions about their dynamic as well as individual characters. Your takeaway should be this and valueable information on Black Panther, not a decree of what you should or shouldn't ship.

Positive and Negative Chemistry

"Positive" and "negative" chemistry is confusing terminology at best and doesn't exist at worse. It's either you have or lack chemistry. There are also two different kinds of chemistry: platonic and romantic.

When describing how characters wouldn't be compatible in a given relationship, you may be looking for the term, "compatibility".

Chemistry: magnetism, attraction, and natural connection. Compatibility: a more "logical" component: your degree of harmony and cohesiveness.

You can have chemistry without compatibility, and compatibility without chemistry. Healthy and long-lasting relationships have both.

Namor's view of Shuri

Namor does not view Shuri as an equal, despite their similarities.

Pause. Namor does view Shuri as an equal. Shuri is arguably the person he respects the most.

The idea That Namor-Talokan does not relate, respect, connect with, or even view Shuri-Wakanda as human directly goes against the meta-pillar theme of Wakanda Forever.

You said it yourself:

"these are fictional characters (who represent real-world dynamics)"

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Besides honoring Chadwick Boseman, motherhood, and the dead not being gone, grief, trauma, the effects of colonialism, and the connectivity between African-Mesoamerican indigenous culture are central points of the film. Namor and Shuri and by extension Talokan and Wakanda are explicitly supposed to relate and be equal to one another for this reason. You are supposed to struggle with choosing a side, and Namor is a complex antagonist or even anti-hero rather than an actual villain (An antagonist just opposes or challenges the protagonist in the context of the story, they're not inherently good or evil. Villians are inherently evil and with malice.) Their fight is supposed to feel wrong, intimate, and emotionally charged, unlike most generic action hero fights. They are natural allies, and therefore unnatural enemies.

Namor bent in ways he wouldn't have with anyone else.

This is why it's an in-fandom joke that he was whipped or smitten. What he says on his throne when waging "war", was "Máansa'ab u nej miis tin wich." Josué Maychi confirms that this means, "They passed the cat's tail in front of my face with the hope of an alliance."

"If you see cats, jaguars or panthers when they go hunting they wag their tails because it is a way of hypnotizing the prey, then that image is what happened to Namor, that someone did like that with the tail."

Namor virtually said he was hypnotized, but the Spanish and English translations didn't quite convey that cat-involved metaphor (although keeping the crux of his lament.).

Namor could have killed Riri the moment she touched Talokan grounds, but he showed temporary "mercy" because of Shuri and Shuri alone. He didn't need Shuri's permission nor did he have to communicate with Shuri. Riri was in his domain, Shuri did not really have much power there, yet he treated her as if she did.

"It goes back to the point of him never seeing Shuri as human or recognizing her feelings as valid."

Two of Namor's quotes in the movie alone prove this wrong:

"I know you wanted me to spare the life of the scientist (recognizing and acknowledging what she wants), but now you see what I have to protect."

"So you can understand why I need to kill the scientist."

He didn't need to seek her approval or give her the ability to negotiate with him, yet he did and on top of that dressed her in the finest silks fit for royalty, consistently trying to convince Shuri like her opinion mattered, and that he wanted her on his side. It wasn't that he didn't "recognize her feelings as valid," he just felt that, based on how many of their lives are at stake, he couldn't risk it (Movie quote: "I cannot risk that, princess...").

He was absolutely gobsmacked when she said, "Take me instead." He wouldn't speak then, uncharacteristically breaking eye contact. When he could finally speak, he couldn't answer her directly, his voice awkwardly raised an interval and suddenly, unnecessarily, speaking with his hands.

Shuri wanted to see Talokan, and Namor, the pessimistic isolationist who never let a surfacer step foot in Talokan, immediately caved into her desire. There was no reason for him to do that and it demonstrates an immense level of trust. He also, quite literally, showed her the keys to his kingdom. He waited until she was beside him, looked to see if she was watching him, and then did his hand sign in the rock to open the "doors" to Talokan.

As writer Joe Cole said in The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri demands him to make the right choice that was yielding, and he does yield to her, which wasn't something he'd ever consider in his hundreds of years of being alive.

Namor gives his beloved mother's bracelet to Shuri

Fen was Namor's beloved mother. Her memory is something he held dear to him. The bracelet he gave not only was the last piece of her left with him, but it directly signified his birthright as king, was a priceless national object, and was made with their sacred plant's fibers.

He gives it to Shuri twice. One immediately to hold when he sees she's attracted to it, two he ties on her (after receiving her non-verbal permission, another sign of respect) for her keeping as a "gift of gratitude."

Namor saw his mother in Shuri

Namor saw his mother in her highest state, induced by Shuri. She was unchanged, young, and in their homes, outstretching a hand to him as Shuri metaphorically did.

Namor paints the mural of their fight

in his personal hut no less, where he preserves their history and culture. He paints them entangled in a battle with neither side besting the other. She is the Jaguar-Black Panther, a revered, highly respected animal in Maya culture with connections to godhood, and he is a mere human, humbling himself in a sense. That speaks volumes, and it's furthered when he tells Namora that Shuri had every single reason to kill him. He also speaks very highly of her, stating she's the strongest person on the surface, of the strongest nation.

None of this makes sense AT ALL if he supposedly did not view Shuri as a respected equal, let alone "human." If he somehow doesn't see her as a "human", then he sees her as higher than.

Talokan's "Violence" to Wakanda's "Pacifism"

"Namor and the Talokanil, immediately resort to violence and war when they feel a threat from the surface world. But since no one knows they exist, this threat is hypothetical for now."

This is not true. Talokan has constantly been evasive with relocating being their immediate resort. In the film, Namor says, "Talokan will not move, again" for a reason. They didn't "feel" a threat, there was a threat. People found the Vibranium within their domain and were drilling to seize it. War was a later development after Shuri took killing Riri off the table, which is what Namor initially wanted to do (in the script, this is furthered, with him saying he'd prefer picking off one person to outright war.).

"A direct contrast to Ramonda and Shuri, who in the face of real eminent threats, resorted to peace and showed their aggressors mercy."

Ignoring the insinuation that Namor was not faced with real eminent threats when he was, there is a reason for that contrast. Remember that while Wakanda was being threatened, they have never been conquered or forced to move. They're confirmed less vulnerable than Talokan, who does not have shields and lives in the ocean. They can afford to reveal themselves. Talokan cannot, and they're collateral damage to Wakanda's choice of revealing themselves and the power of Vibranium to the world.

The beginning village of Talokan has been conquered and mass murdered before the rebirth into the blue people we see now, with their ancestral lands plundered and made into slave houses. Namor almost died and was sick in the womb because the conquistadors brought smallpox. His father who he never met died due to their disease. He witnessed countless treacheries, betrayals, and wars from the surface lands. Namor spent his entire childhood watching his mother grieve due to them. As a result, Talokan has a more pessimistic perspective compared to Wakanda's privileged optimistic one.

So yeah, Talokan isn't going to play patty cake with their active aggressors who are trying to plunder them. Nor should they, because Namor is proven right with America actively seeking to destabilize Wakanda under the guise of retrieving Riri (see the meeting Ross has with government officials), and the ending with Val.

Wakanda wants to delay inevitable war and minimize the loss across the board but will go to war if pushed, which is fair. Talokan is tired and ready to give the smoke, striking fast and hard to merely end what threatens them once and for all after centuries of patience and displacement. That is also fair.

"Namor, despite wanting Wakanda’s help with his mission, ultimately doesn’t view Wakanda with anymore sympathy than he does the rest of the world. He has made it clear that he hates the surface world and everyone in it, which includes the Wakandans."

You're right, he doesn't sympathize with Wakanda. There's nothing to sympathize with. He empathizes with them, a stronger feeling and sense of connection than sympathy. He admires Wakanda and feels a sense of kinship, maybe a bit of jealousy (Joe Cole). To him, Wakanda was a threat if they weren't on his side. Why?

A) Wakanda (unintentionally) compromised them by revealing themselves to the world and the power of Vibranium. Now everyone else, armed with that dangerous knowledge, is looking for it to wield it. Wakanda can more or less protect their Vibranium, claiming ownership of it when it's on their lands, they have the power to, and they're the ones who revealed it. But what can Talokan do? They'd be forcefully revealed in some way and be subjected to attacks just because they dared to also have Vibranium.

B) Wakanda is compromising them again by harboring Riri, who is the one source capable of the machine the FBI is currently chasing down. There is no guarantee Riri would stay with them (Riri is not their citizen, and America can easily use her as a means to undercut Wakanda and force them to either give vibranium or fork Riri over, so she can build the machine, and they'll get vibranium anyway through Talokan) or wouldn't rebuild her machine. The solutions Namor could fathom were either taking Riri out of the equation for sure (a case of killing one person and saving everyone else) or taking out the threat of those who seek to exploit her.

C) Wakanda was already shaking hands with nations that wanted to destabilize and plunder them, and will want to do the same with Talokan.

D) Wakanda is the only nation that can rival them that now also knows of their existence. If they're not allies with that information, that's dangerous and makes Talokan vulnerable.

With all things considered and understandably from Namor's perspective, there's no "in-between" here. You can't be "neutral." You either are with them or facilitate your own and their destruction.

This doesn't mean he hates Wakanda or Shuri. It is nothing he wants, but something he perceives he has to do for his people, as their protector, father, god, and king. In the script, this is only further exemplified, by his, "I don’t want it to come to this. But I will not hesitate."

Namor Killing Ramonda

His line of "You are queen now" showed that he was never willing to conduct business with Ramonda likely because she was the only person on the surface world who bested him when she lured him out of Talokan(...). He was simply looking for an excuse to get her out of the picture."

At that point, Ramonda threatened to reveal Talokan. Ramonda purposefully played decoy with him and sent in a war dog to infiltrate their nation and retrieve not only their national threat but the princess who has all of their secrets without a sense of closure. The result of this act was the death of two of his "children". Did you just gloss over that fact, because Ramonda didn't just "lure" him away? He wasn't throwing a fit because he was bested. People literally died? He was cradling a dying child in his arms?

Namor was "willing" to conduct business with Ramonda, proven by the simple fact that he approached Ramonda and gave her the shell to contact him. Namor went out to answer Ramonda's call in the first place when he could've just ignored it when he had what he wanted and more in Talokan.

Namor saying "You're queen now" doesn't at all connect to him not seeing Shuri as an equal. That doesn't make any sense. If anything that undermines your point, because before Shuri is officially crowned, he immediately sees her as the sovereign leader, much like himself.

He says "you're queen now" because Shuri is likely the queen now. It's simple math: Shuri is the heir apparent. There's no royal before her now that is leading.

"It's also another reason why he killed Ramonda with no hesitation despite knowing what he knew about Shuri"

Again, Namor did what he did with no hesitation or care if Ramonda is collateral damage because in his eyes, Ramonda betrayed him, he was acting as a vehicle of vengeance for two souls, and he was defending Talokan. When she stepped in front of Riri glaring him down, that was his final nail in the coffin (no pun intended, please, no pun intended.). It was never personal to him nor did he look at it as him killing Shuri's mom. He was playing the role of a protector and king in conflict with another royal, but of course, it's inherently personal to Shuri because that royal happens to be her mother.

Ryan Coogler confirmed it was not personal for him in the Disney+ movie commentary, Tenoch Huerta says killing the queen was never in his initial plans, and Namor says this himself in the script, explaining he did what he did because the queen "betrayed" him with not only a guard, but a child dying as a result when Shuri was never in danger ("you were safe in my care").

Recklessness With Grief

No, Shuri did not have a better handle on how she externalizes her grief until the final of the movie.

"She recognizes that even though she is angry at T’Challa’s death, the rest of the world doesn’t deserve to feel the extent of her wrath."

That's not at all what she recognized at any point. "It will not be these clothes, I'll burn. It will be the world. And everyone in it."

"Even when Namor does kill her mother, she rightfully directs her anger at him."

At the expense of her people's safety and risk of eternal war. She tells M'Baku straight up that nothing else matters except what she wants, and she wants Namor dead. She threateningly pointed a finger, giving M'Baku no choice and leaving him with the command to help her in her endeavors, even if it meant sending them all to their watery graves.

Nakia: "If you go to war for vengeance, it will not fill the hole left from your loss. It will only grow larger, and it will consume you!"

Shuri: "It already has."

With every blow she landed and exchanged with Namor, we cut back to Wakanda receiving blows and being backed up into a corner.

Namor and Shuri were on collision courses where they were destroying themselves, each other, and their people by not handling their grief properly, being consumed by their vengeance, and committing destructive actions ignited by their pain.

Shuri just later had the strength to break that cycle by recognizing what he said to her back in Talokan ("broken leaders"), their connectivity, and shared traumas. She saved them both and quietened Namor's own flames in the process.

"Sure, she has some outbursts at Nakia and M’baku, but she never really alienates them."

Do not downplay the fact that Shuri is dangerous and was not healthily dealing with her grief, but instead was on a path of destruction. Ryan explicitly states that Namor shares this with Shuri: they're both trying to process and similarly struggle grappling with their grief.

Why else do you think Ramonda took Shuri outside to touch grass and do a ritual? Shuri was not ok. From the moment her beloved brother died, she was not ok. She was not magnanimous to the world. She was angry at it. She thought that there was no point in the Black Panther mantle or herb when T'Challa isn't there. As M'Baku even pointed out, she buried herself in her technology as a coping mechanism, which she ought to stop.

Shuri does alienate Nakia. Not only does she snap several times and harshly shove Nakia off of her after she took the herb, but it's also shown at the beginning of the movie she's ignoring all of her calls. In the script, she explicitly considers Nakia dead, immensely angry she missed T'Challa's funeral.

She doesn't listen to M'baku, but consistently tries to push him and his wisdom away during Ramonda's funeral. She even pushed away and tried closing herself off with Ramonda in the lab and river scene.

Namor's Desire

"All he wanted to do was push her to the extremes of grief so she would become reckless as she was."

Namor's true desire was safety for his people. He didn't want to move again or have to change who they are to survive. Namor later had a genuine desire for an alliance with Wakanda, a nation he canonically admires. Namor didn't want to "push her to the extremes of grief to become like him" because she already was like him. He just wanted to channel their shared feelings of reaping "destruction" to the common enemy.

“I think that a lot of the emotion that I was trying to put into it [Talokan] was this idea that Namor is not wanting to move his people again,” says Beachler. “So there is also, this sense of grieving, even there, of this idea of being encroached upon by humans, who are somewhat inconsiderate of them.”

"Instead you see a mutant emerging not out of genetics, but out of the crucible of oppression. Whereas mutants in the comics are born, in Wakanda Forever, they are made. And that history isn't the side story, it's the entire story. It explains Namor's rage, his desperation, and the path he takes which eventually leads to a collision with Wakanda."

It was never a case of Namor only loving and can love his people while hating everyone else, seeing them as inhuman. Namor was prioritizing what he loved the most above what he may also like, admire, or empathize with. He was fulfilling the role given to him he was forced to take from the moment he was born.

"I mean, “no love” is literally his name."

Let's slow down a bit and mayhaps rethink a little on using the meaning of his alias "Namor" as a point about him being loveless, no? That was a "name" given to him by a racist, slave-owning Conquistador priest who also called him, "son of satan" all the while he was burying his mother, the only and last immediate family he had. Namor took that alias to empower himself and take away the sting. He clearly does have love when all of his life he has been a selfless agent for his people. He thought a single or two lives were worth war over. Yes, he explicitly said it was to convey he had "no love" for the surface, but there is context to that.

"Wanting to destroy the whole world, funny enough, including other Mayan descendants who were enslaved or colonized"

When Namor burned down the Hacienda, slaves ran free. Only the Consquisdators were killed. The village elder relayed that they know of Namor's existence and were able to live with that knowledge. The only ones who died were the ones who sought him out with ill intent. The script also featured the factoid of Namor saving the elder and her husband from drowning on their wedding night, if that's worth anything. In the movie, he doesn't want to include Wakanda in the mix of the nations they're at war with either.

Clearly, he is discriminatory with who he'd kill. Who said he'd include Mayan descendants that were enslaved and colonized? The last time I checked, the only person who said anything about burning everyone was Shuri.

Namor: "It is no longer about the scientist. For centuries, the surface nations have conquered and enslaved people like us. Over resources. Since the day I buried my mother, I have prepared my people for the time they would come for us. And that machine? Is the sign that the time is now. I need to know if Wakanda is an ally, or an enemy. There is no in-between."

Shuri: "So you plan to wage war on the entire world, and want Wakanda to help you?"

Namor: [leans in and nods slightly]

Shuri: "That's madness!"

Namor: "There isn't a nation that wouldn't plunder Wakanda if given a chance. If we make an alliance, we can protect each other by striking them first. Then, when the threat of these nations have been eliminated, the scientist will be returned to Wakanda."

Namor wanting to remove the teeth from the lion's mouth and hitting first isn't the same thing as destroying everything and anything. Mind you, he is being chaotic, but he clearly has a concentrated target. Don't get it twisted.

Namor's Regret

It is suggested that Namor in particular felt regret and dislike for the situation in interviews, script, and in-film.

A) Namor is seen pensively on his throne, touching and cradling the shell phone as he awaits contact.

B) Namor's, "It could've been different."

C) Interestingly, Ryan and Joe Cole corroborated in The Movie Report panel interview, more regret was in every blow exchanged. Namor in particular did not want to exchange a fatal blow until he was pushed to impale Shuri on the rock in a desperate attempt to his life.

Equaling and Relating

Relating to someone is different from equalling someone. Out of all who were listed, whether it was Peter Parker, Riri Williams, or Namor, Namor is the only one out of those that is explicitly and purposefully depicted as equalling and relating to Shuri.

Namor And Shuri

The reasoning given for how Shuri works paired with Peter Parker or Riri Williams strongly applies to Shuri with Namor, so operating under the same logic, they largely work too.

"What makes both of these pairings work to a degree is the idea of them being equal in some regard(...) They clearly see each other as equal. They more or less agree on a common enemy and how to deal with said enemy, with morals and values that more or less align."

They do agree on a common enemy. That's literally half of the premise for Namor proposing an alliance where they protect one another. The problem just was how they go about handling things. Tragedy, trauma, and dramatic irony unfavorably played factors.

Otherwise, they're practically the same, and are now on the "same page". Their morals and values aren't far off either. Wakanda and Talokan are eerily similar, whether it be in having spying channels, an isolationistic approach, finding jurisdiction wherever they feel it (aka, if it regards and threatens them), only wanting to protect what they love, embracing-involving their culture-traditions, being environmentalists, and using defensive-offensive means if provoked by a perceived threat.

In visuals alone, they took great care to portray Shuri and Namor as Parallel Characters.

The "boy without love" and the "child who scoffs at tradition." They do have a few healthy differences (I'll save that for another article), but they are equal and deeply relate.

As said on The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri became the Panther god (the Black Panther is canonically Bast's avatar), while he is the god of his civilization. They're both royals and leaders of their own nations. Said nations are sister nations, both having the power of vibranium and the highest levels of advancement. They are both broken and with a shared trauma etched deep in their hearts. They both have a righteous, divine fire and an acute sense of avenging. They both were haunted by similar grief and pain that pushed them to seek solace in one another.

Namor is described as lonely and with loneliness by Ryan Coogler, and that's exactly how Shuri felt in the beginning as well (see her Interlude), and unfortunately, later in the movie after Ramonda "dies" (but in the end, it's revealed that Ramonda, like T'Challa, is not gone.). They brought innovative technology and a new era of living to their people. They share the same love languages: acts of service and gifts.

There was an entire montage near the end of the film showcasing this.

Riri Williams

Riri Williams relates to Shuri in a sense of being young black women whose intelligence and talents aren't always respected by their elders. They can also relate to their fathers being murdered (if they take a page out of comics for Riri, see Ironheart #9) or the loved ones that taught them what they know being ripped away from them. Maybe they also know about diffusion too as geeks, but it stops there.

Riri, like Peter, is a teenager (19 years old) new to college (the same college Okoye states is the equivalent of a Wakandan elementary school), trying to grapple with her emerging life and school. Shuri is a princess of the most powerful nation and head of Wakandan Technology. She completed the journey of school and became a college assistant at the age of 13. Wakanda Forever was Riri's debut and entry into the game. Wakanda Forever was Shuri, who is already a non-teenaged adult at this point, journeying through her womanhood and immense grief. Shuri is not new to the game, having been in countless wars and accumulated countless experiences Riri has yet to touch.

Throughout the film, Shuri acted as the voice Riri didn't have that Namor would hear, largely due to T'Challa's influence. At the end of the film, Riri invites Shuri to a basketball game. Shuri says no, prioritizing her duties and having a full plate compared to Riri's less uncomplicated, lighthearted one. This alone highlights their differences in placement and mental space.

Big sisters do not "equal" their younger siblings. They guide and protect, having some level of authority and experience over them.

And That's Perfectly By Design

Riri and Shuri are not equals and have noticeable divergences where one cannot ever relate to or feel what the other does. Shuri won't know how Riri feels the need to prove herself as a black woman in a society where black people, black women, are given the shorter end of the stick. Shuri doesn't know anything about how it is for African Americans and law enforcement. Riri won't know the privileges or how it feels like to carry the burdens Shuri does to the extent she does. Riri does not entirely relate to Shuri's grief either. Riri was a fish out of water who constantly wanted to go home despite the beauty and safety in Wakanda. They belong to two different worlds.

It is great that they have these differences because, in the words of Dominque Thorne, they can learn from each other. Their relationship in the film is contextualized as Shuri perceiving Riri as her reflection and then taking on a mentor role. Riri is, in Letitia's words, a reflection of T'Challa's choice. There are several parallels between Riri-Shuri and T'Challa-Shuri. It gives Shuri more of a personal incentive and investment in the outreach program her brother enacted. T'Challa had the connection, learning experience, and realization of the Lost Tribe and their struggles through N'Jadaka. Shuri now has that with Riri, but positively! Riri also can offer a breath of fresh air every now and again, fulfilling the chemistry she had (bubbly, plucky younger one) with T'Challa (the more composed, older, responsible one).

Whether you want to mold and configure this into a romantic dynamic, is up to you. The point is that yes they relate, yes they do have chemistry, but no, Riri and Shuri aren't equals.

Peter Parker

Hypothetically, Peter relates to Shuri in their intelligence (although I'd argue Shuri is smarter, Shuri's probably smarter than everyone), but that doesn't at all suggest they'd have the same interests. It doesn't work like that.

Peter (2001 baby) is younger than Shuri (1997-1998). He is just starting college. Shuri is around 22, 23 years old due to the snap. She was 19, 20 in Infinity War. Peter was 16. It's not a big age gap, but I wouldn't say they're peers. Age proximity doesn't indicate relatability either, especially if the maturity levels and experiences differ.

However, I will say, I think Peter and Shuri can relate to being orphans that do feel lonely (although Shuri lost and later gained family, Peter is left off completely alone), going through personal dark arcs, and suffering immense pain that changes the trajectory of their lives. They used to be more lighthearted, but now were forced to grow up and their perspectives darkened.

That's about it though. They aren't on the same wavelength or of the same caliber when it comes to their types of threats, challenges, and predicaments. Namor could entirely relate with her being another nation of vibranium of a culture the other nations seek to destabilize, destroy, or conquer, as well as someone with a similar depth and sense of grief. Riri could relate as a black woman living in America (lost tribe) who'd know a thing or two about persecution and was thrown into the mix between the Talokan-Wakanda conflict. Peter?

This isn't factoring in their standings either, with Shuri being an heir apparent and leader of the strongest nation on the surface with Peter being "your friendly (and now depressed) neighborhood Spiderman" that occasionally gets thrown outside his payroll.

Peter and Shuri can probably relate and it's easy to assume they'd have chemistry and may do a little chemistry together. But they do not equal either.

In Conclusion

Yes, ship and let ship. These are all great fictional characters with compelling dynamics. Shipping is largely for fun and often depends on the person's taste.

Looking at this from a perspective of a writer and storyteller, there's no such thing as it "not" working or "making sense" unless you have, excuse my language, shit and uninspiring writing.

#Parotkee's Musings #wakanda forever #princess shuri #shuri black panther #mcu namor #nashuri #namor shuri #shuri riri #shuri peter #seaprincess #black panther #Update tag: this isn't “fighting” or if Nashuri “should” be shipped #read properly next time before subtumblring lol #bpwf #namuri

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gilbirda · 3 months

Note

Reviewing old docs of mine, I saw a summary of a big prompt from a Jazz/Jason fic I had. I don't remember if it was mine or I copied from you to write later as insp (one day I'm going to post a fic, I swear) but forgot to link the post.

The thing is I didn't find it here, but I could swear I read it here.... So, here I copy of the post? (and sorry if I'm just bad searching if you already had it):

Danny is the rightful Ghost King, but since he's not of age he needs a regent who is a) his species, b) his family, and c) an adult. The only adult haftas are Vlad or this Red Hood guy from Gotham that he's never heard of. Since Vlad is not going to happen looks like it's Red Hood, now how to make the guy count as family...

Jason has had a lot of weird shit happen to him over the years but a woman tracking him down as Red Hood to propose a temporary political marriage so he can be regent of a death dimension until her brother is old enough to rule in his own name is a new one for him. Of course he accepted. The only other option was apparently a creepy uncle figure. He's read enough romance to know a forced marriage of a woman to her creepy uncle never ends well. A forced marriage of a woman to a crime lord doesn't usually end much better, but he's ignoring that for now. He's going to woo and romance his spit fire of a wife with respect, spontaneous poetry, his damn good cooking, and by not being a Darcy. And he is going to rock not just this whole regent thing, but also and more importantly the mentoring her brother and his new ward on how to rule this dimension. Competence is always attractive. He runs a tight ship in his crime empire, surely running a dimension can't be that much harder.

He actually already has a plan on how he's going to handle the whole 'The USA declared war on the dimension he's regent of' thing. It's simple really he goes to the next family dinner and causes chaos. The faces everyone will make will be glorious when he drops that he's lord regent of a dimension, the USA is at war with his dimension, and it's such a shame that no one can meet Jason's wife or ward till there is a peace treaty. Then he just needs to sit back and watch the entertainment as his siblings realize he has forever won the position of favorite child by being the first married and first to give Bruce a grandkid. Also you know the chaos of Bruce willing to wage a one man war if necessary so he can meet his grandson. Jason figures it will take at most a month for the government to cave.

And like a cherry on top he's going to get on a medical treatment plan for the pit. Everything is looking great for him.

Bestie don't worry I found it for you!

It's a submission to my blog!

Also... this is VERY embarrassing for me to admit but, I still have an ask from you with a fic idea and it's been gathering dust in my inbox.

I'm so sorry.

I'll post it and all the different fic ideas people has sent me. They need to be free and I thought I could add something but honestly I haven't been so hot for a long minute.

I'll try to be better about my inbox!

#gil answers #dapucha #im so very sorry #i thought i could and kept pushing it for 'when i felt better' but guess what never happened

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errihaienx · 1 year

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Hola! can you plz do an atsumu fluff? if u're freeee tysm in advance. have a nice day <3<3<3

i had fun writing this and i'm sorry it kinda turned into a suggestive one , but i think this is fluff! i swear ?? lol i'm sorryyyy (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ

quick disclaimer: these scenarios don't affect the original plot of the series. any information or events that contradict the original plot are purely fictional. (i do not own any of the characters) + Suggestive themes at the end (I did not proofread this , please read the a/n at the end!)

post-timeskip : ATSUMU X Reader situation: Atsumu demands for a kiss that leads to something..

ATSUMU is a loud and clingy boyfriend. Currently whining about you not giving him a kiss before his training, he keeps on bugging you.

"Can you get your hands off me even for a bit 'tsumu! i'm doing the dishes!" you hissed, ignoring you he clung to you more.

he kissed your neck and whined again

"ya are such a meannie! all ya do is to nag me, don't ya even love me anymore?"

annoyed, you faced him and he gave you this sheepish smile. you sighed and wiped your hands on his shirt, expecting to earn a protest. he then held your hand helping you to fully dry your hands with his already wet clothes.

"You're extra clingy now 'tsumu…" you mumbled

thinking that maybe he did something wrong and that is why he's acting like this

"I'm always like this baby, what are ya talking about hmmm"

you gave him a quick peck before facing the chores you delayed because of him.

"Not facing me again, i did not have my kiss earlier today and ya are ignoring me again! am I gonna die?! What did I do?!?" Atsumu dramatically stated.

you rolled your eyes though he couldn't see you can't help but to smile, you've been together for years now and he never changed. Atsumu always tries his best to treat you what you deserve.

"Babeeeeeee are ya seriously ignoring me? what did I do?!?! Is it because I forgot to shower last night before I cuddle ya up? come on, I still smell good!" Atsumu wailed

actually the reason why you're not giving him the hundred percent of your attention is simply just because you're washing the dishes but your dramatic and overreacting boyfriend made it like it's a big deal.

but since he opened up the topic about him not showering before clinging to you a night ago, you decided to use that as an excuse.

"yeah, shower now and I'll give you what you want" you simply replied.

while wiping your hand, you looked at him and saw him with his eyebrows furrowed and irritated. You raised an eyebrow warning him, and the defeated atsumu rushed to shower.

Atsumu often shower for fifteen minutes, but your tired eyes couldn't seem to wait for him and dozed off.

minutes later he finished and he ended up seeing you prettily 'sleeping'

"I'm done babe, ya can now stop the act and gimme my hugs"

his sudden talking made your senses awake but you ignored him. trying to chase the rest you've been waiting for.

"I did not have my kiss this morning and you claimed that you're just asleep so I let it slide. will you also use that excuse again huh?" Atsumu, with his serious voice made your system go wild

yes there's no doubt that atsumu is playful and a goofball but what you don't understand is he can change his demeanor very quick, sometimes it scares you but it is actually….kind of sexy..

lost in your thoughts you haven't uttered a single word, which made you nervous. something's gonna happen, for sure.

"I see, so that's how it is… lemme have you by crook then.."

shocked, you faced him as fast as you can but he's now looking at you with his hypnotizing brown orbs intently. you couldn't see his sparkling full of love eyes, at this very moment his eyes reflects desire.

"I'm t-trying to-"

You didn't have the chance to finish your sentence as his large physique towers you.

This is a draft, but I decided to post it now because I'm working on something that takes a lot of time to do and I still want to post an update for you guys! This was sitting on my drafts for days now, and actually I'm not really satisfied with this work so I was hesitant to post this. The next update will be about HQ Captains again. And hopefully after that I already finished what I'm currently writing now, please bare with me!

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu miya #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu hcs #atsumu hcs #atsumu headcanons

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air--so--sweet · 24 days

Text

Made my first fan edit in over a decade (in my day they were called fanvids). Apparently you can't use copyrighted music longer than a minute on tiktok (it was easier to get round copyright in my day also) so this one is just for you tumblr. Also let's ignore the clips with logos in because I'm not getting clean versions to re-edit it, it's 8am and I haven't been to sleep (thanks ADHD hyperfocus stopping me from literally noticing the sun coming up!)

Edit: Had some sleep so now time to write a ridiculous number of words about a 3 minute edit! This was a lot of fun to make, I forgot how fun video editing is and capcut is a dream compared to windows movies maker and sony vegas (which was what all the cool kids were using for some reason in the mid 2000s but I never got the hang of it).

It also reminded me how fun some of the dance numbers are. Like I love Dancing in the Moonlight and Twistin' the Night Away. I know for the latter they originally had a choreographed routine but it was scrapped and and they were told improvise and have fun. It's something that definitely comes across in the final scene and it makes it feel more authentically like three siblings messing around.

Also in editing the video scenes I noticed stuff I wouldn't have otherwise. Emmy breaks multiple times because she's having so much fun (it's left in because it makes sense for her to laugh in the moment but Emmy's laugh is very different to Allison's).

The weird dance Diego does with the sword during Another One Bites the Dust, and the fact Lila has to fully step back at one point to not get hit in the face! I always thought Lila was just pulling Five in by the hand for a hug in the same scene but you can see them dancing together in the background throughout. I knew they danced together at the wedding but Five was blackout drunk at that point so it's fun to see him dancing with her at a time when he's...well not sober, but definitely less drunk.

Also as an aside, in the first draft of the script for S1E1 it's shown explicitly that Five is uncomfortable with touch after years in the apocalypse. Though the scene in question didn't make it into later drafts, it still feels implied to me throughout season 1 and it makes me feel happy to see how far he's come, seeming genuinely comfortable with Lila's affection. Also if anyone is interested in the idea of him struggling with touch @soshadysoquiet has a great fic exploring this (though rather than my view that he's become accustomed to, and comfortable with touch it posits that he's dealing with so much due to the apocalypse he doesn't recognise touch as the cause of his distress).

I also think there's a sort of theme happening in the partner dances during Footloose, rather than the characters being paired randomly but that will take long enough to explain it needs it's own post, even if this one wasn't already obscenely long.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua dance numbers #the umbrella academy dance numbers #the wombats #lets dance to joy division #the hargreeves #fan edit #fanvid #this took like 7 hours #still love this song though #capcut it so much easier to use than windows moviemaker was and it didnt crash once

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anachronistic-falsehood · 4 months

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Ok before I answer any more asks, I feel like I need to get my full thoughts out there. This might be a bit long, but I have a lot to say.

First off: I am very impressionable. I always have been and I always will be. I am well aware of this. When people tell me things, I often believe them at face value. I’m trying to get better at that, which is why I tried to stay neutral this time around when everything first came out. Then I removed myself from the situation for a couple days, came back to it today, forgot to beat my hyper empathy into submission for ten minutes, and found myself almost believing him one hundred percent. I almost forgot about his first response, where he lashed out and threatened to sue people over this. I also tend not to focus on situations like this often because it’s really bad for my POCD. I am bad at this. I need to preface this post by saying that.

I don’t support Forever anymore. I can’t, not after everything that’s happened over the past few days, especially after seeing his original reaction, which was to get mad and threaten to sue and to brush it all off as just twitter drama. And he still brushed it all off as twitter drama in this most recent stream. He didn’t even acknowledge how old the alleged victim was, which means a lot of people who only knew of this through his streams don’t know that he flirted with multiple girls as young as 13. He said it was just jokes, but he did privately message at least one of these girls and meet her in real life, even if it was within a group of people. Things can happen even within a crowd.

There had to have been more things that happened behind the scenes for all of his friends to suddenly drop him. Whether it was some kind of proof that he was aware this was wrong as he did it, or if he lashed out at the other ccs for initially unfollowing him when this all came out, I don’t know. But he handled this very immaturely in his first response without even looking into the issue, and I don’t feel right supporting him anymore.

Still, and hate me for this if you want, I can’t help but sympathize with him a little bit. I know, I know, but I was a shitty person when I was a teenager, and I’m constantly paranoid that things I’ve done or said will stick with me forever or come back around to bite me in the ass. Hell, I have done and said things when I was 17 that would get me dogpiled on twitter if I was a cc. I do understand why he was upset. Knowing that he has mental health issues because of repeated twitter hate mobs does make me feel sorry for him in that regard. Just because being exposed for past actions may have been deserved this time doesn’t mean that excessive hate was deserved every single time, nor is it deserved for every cc who has fucked up in the past.

However, he was very immature with his initial response, and him pushing this off as just a twitter cancellation is enough to tell me that he does not quite see that he was in the wrong. He keeps saying that he’s matured and that he’s better now, as if that alone is supposed to absolve him of any kind of responsibility. I think he handled this wrong, and I don’t want to support him anymore.

As for q!Forever, I know he has a lot of similarities to the cc. That will be too hard to look past for a lot of people, and if you don’t want to engage in content that includes him anymore, that’s well within your rights. I still love q!Forever despite that, and I personally will still consume content that includes him, and I don’t want to write him out of the story of the smp. We can do the same thing we did for c!Dream and basically adopt him as our own oc. q!Forever can be our character now if we want him to be, and we can still acknowledge that Forever put a lot of work and thought into his character and appreciate what he did for the smp while not supporting him as a creator anymore.

And finally, I also don’t like the way that this entire situation was handled in general by the fanbase. The person who did this (as far as I’m aware) was dedicated to going after ccs for generally trivial things. If they wanted justice for this, why not bring it up before now? Why not before he joined the smp? And the victim didn’t want any part in this as far as I know, and yet people went after her demanding comments on the situation. Twitter kept celebrating the ccs dropping Forever like it was some fun party, just like people have been doing for the whole Dream situation. Twitter hasn’t handled this with any sort of tact whatsoever, and many of us here on tumblr (myself included) have been more invested in arguing and over correcting our own actions and phrasing when some biased people bring up invalid points to actually step back and take a break.

We’ve all been on the defence from each other. People on here have criticized each other’s views, invalidated other people’s experiences, and thrown insults and names at each other like this is a playground fight instead of a serious situation. The situation is over. Let’s just breathe.

#forever situation #qsmp #you guys can come into my inbox if you want to talk about all this yourself!!#can’t guarantee I’ll have any more comments to make #my intrusive thoughts are killing me right now and i feel like shit but i would love to hear from the rest of you #we’re in this together u guys

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apriltearsbringmayfears · 2 years

Note

Just popped on here, I already read a few of your posts and love them.

May I request an Arcana M6 that forgets MC's birthday? (Whether it happened to just slipped their mind or they genuinely forgot.). But I'll leave those details up to you. Keep writing! Thank you!

Thank you so much! I’m really glad you like them, I have a few more in the works but feel free to send whatever ideas my way :D

~The Arcana M6 - Forget MC’s Birthday~

Asra:

On past birthdays, you usually wake up to him cooking breakfast

This isn’t one of those days. He’s gone from the shop, with a note left behind saying he’ll be back in the afternoon.

The shop has been busy, many calls outside the shop that Asra has to tend to. Him forgetting it is understandable

At some point, about mid day- he’s helping someone and the memory hits like a train

As soon as he’s done with business, he picks up some flowers and pumpkin bread and travels straight back to shop

The door swings open, “I’m so sorry MC!!!”

You are smothered with affection for the next 24 hours

Nadia:

You were expecting a ball, or at least some sort of formal dinner/event

However, she didn’t pull through

Between everything else going on in Vesuvia, she managed to completely forget your birthday

It’s not until the servants say something that she realizes

She sort of looks at the wall for a minute, really internalizing her mistake

How could she have forgotten? What does this say about her as a romantic partner and as The Countess?

Plans start immediately, there WILL be a celebration tonight. Everything else is pushed to the side

She deeply apologizes for her mistake, almost being too hard on herself

But the party that night is incredible despite how little time it was thrown together

Julian:

He’s never done much for his birthdays as an adult, aside from Portia throwing a small celebration with some gifts and him drinking as usual

He’s never really had to celebrate anybody else's birthday because of that

He did know about your birthday, thought about making plans for it. Maybe a nice little boat trip? Take you somewhere nice, a little adventure?

But it completely slipped his mind

He’s reminded by Mazelinka, his face getting redder than hell

It’s like the whole world crashed on him, he’s the worlds worst boyfriend now

He won’t stop apologizing, on the verge of tears, on his knees, he’ll do anything to make it right

He takes you out on the adventure he had planned anyways, free drinks to boot

Muriel:

He completely forgets birthdays are a thing

He never had the chance to celebrate his own unless it was with Asra

Which was only a handful of times, it wasn’t really even a celebration

You casually~ mention it and he gets RED

This is man is EMBARRASSED

I can see him making a little cake, with scraggly letters saying “Happy Birthday MC”

He last minute made a little handmade craft as gift for you too

Y’all have a cute little celebration in his hut, plenty of cuddles after

Portia:

She’s going about her day all jolly, not a care in the world

You think for a bit she might have a surprise planned but once 6pm rolls around, you lose hope

“MC, I feel like I’m forgetting something”

Her face looks puzzled and then her eyes widen

There’s practically tears in her eye

You sort of have to calm her down. She feels like she betrayed you almost

She’s usually amazing with birthdays, tends to make the most of them

She did in fact have presents and plans but either got the day wrong or got completely side tracked

Your birthday turns into a birthday week celebration

Lucio:

He’s very fond of throwing big birthday parties for himself, sort of slides by everyone else's

You ask him about what day it is and he looks confused

You tell him it’s your birthday and he sorts of huffs

“Ya…I uhhh knew that”

He didn’t, but he’s trying to play it cool

Trying to quickly make plans in the back of his head

It’s very obvious he’s lying, his face is red and he looks frantic

He’s able to gather your friends for a nice celebration (Asra, Nadia, etc.)

But only because they care about you and he was so genuine with needing help

Expect more well thought out parties after this, he basically makes it a national holiday now

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #asra the magician #asra alzanar #nadia satrinava #countess nadia #the arcana lucio #lucio montag #the arcana muriel #portiathearcana #julian devorak #the arcana julian

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saikokirakira · 2 years

Text

Just a Ransom Fic for now

[edit 17/09: idiot me forgot to add a plot summary. this is what happens when you thirst too much. 🤡]

summary: After being released from prison, Ransom hides away in a bar at the lesser end of town. He finds you, a pecular little thing, and wonders how much he can screw you over. Literally and figuratively.

or...

Ransom is adult-grounded and decides to cause chaos, starting with you. Luckily, you're down to fuck.

a/n: choosing to post this first because it has been collecting dust since – checks version history – march. might need feedback if the rest of my draft is worth adding parts. this is also the filthiest thing i posted (but not wrote) so far.

also... my personal author's note from february for myself was pretty funny.

[Note: The power went out while I was writing the snu-snu. It was God telling me to go do my bedtime routine, and as punishment, I am gonna have to take a fucking cold shower without the heater.]

word count: 4.9k (60 words away from 5k of pure thirst, good lawd)

warning/tags: MINORS DNI, 18+ only, Ransom 'Sweater Daddy' Drysdale (walking red flag), reader is kinda dumb, p in v sex, no mentions of y/n, dumbification, size difference/size kink, oral (both receiving/giving), mentions of drug use, alcohol, language/cursing, non-canon to the film (Harlan lives), not proofread (i'm literally dozing off while doing final checks), self-indulgent fic

When Ransom first met you, you were almost a breath of fresh air. Given that he was in prison for a couple of months, being in that seedy little bar was literally fresh air to him. He almost thought that your voice was wasted on the piss-drunk people who weren’t even paying attention.

In fact, Ransom was surprised people were even listening when they booed after you mentioned that you were taking a fifteen-minute break after your first set. You seemed to take it as a compliment when you blew a kiss to the person who booed the loudest, which Ransom figured out as a plea for one more song. You hopped off the small platform and skipped over to the bar right beside to the man who couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Enjoying the show?” you asked, your voice still holding that sweet melodic tone even when you weren’t singing.

Ransom was about to snide at your comment, until he caught himself, realising that you were asking him a genuine question about your performance. “I’ve heard better,” he said nonchalantly.

Like earlier, you didn’t take it to heart. You took the small virgin cocktail you got from the bartender, who gave Ransom a nasty look behind your back. You took a long sip before sucking on the orange wedge. “Sure, you have,” you replied, turning to the bartender and giving him a childish orange wedge smile.

Ransom narrowed his eyes before coming to the conclusion that you speak in the literal sense. Two months in prison, and he was still hyper-aware of the constant snarky and snide conversations from his family. Like he said, breath of fresh air.

“You don’t look like you’re from around these parts,” you noted, making Ransom raise a brow at you. “The clothes, the way you present yourself,” you shrugged. “Also, most of the regulars here know each other.”

“Let’s just say it’s the only bar in town where I won’t run into people who know me,” Ransom said, swallowing what’s left of his drink in one shot.

Especially those fuckers from the country club who bailed on him as soon as those cops arrested him.

You hummed in thought before going back to nursing your own drink. You didn’t look like you cared to know more or even ponder further on the mystery of his identity. Ransom liked that you minded your own business, but maybe too much. Your disinterest might not make you want to end up in his bed at the end of the night.

A man walked up to you and whispered something in your ear. You smiled and nodded before passing back your cocktail glass across the bar. “Thanks for the drink, Mel,” you said. Then you glanced to Ransom. “Back to work. Enjoy the rest of the performance, new guy.” You hopped off your stool and skipped back to the platform.

“Good luck, pal.”

Ransom turned to Mel, the elderly bartender that shot him the dirty look earlier. He immediately got on Ransom’s nerves for not being able to mind his own business and eavesdropping. “Two more beers might improve my chances then,” he ordered with a plastic smile but not an ounce of emotion behind his eyes.

Mel was not discreet in hiding his disgust as he handed Ransom two bottles. “Look, rich guy,” he began, “they’re a good kid. I can serve you all the alcohol you want, but you best find your conquest someplace else.”

This old man is really getting on his nerves. Ransom unconsciously zoned him out as his attention was pulled in by your voice. You were right how most people in the bar knew each other. You were singing a song in a foreign language that had everyone cheering and clapping along. They were entranced by you.

… and so was Ransom.

The rest of your final set went with songs that anyone else can zone out to focus on their drinks or company. At one moment, Ransom’s focus shifted to a leggy brunette that insisted he buy her two drinks. Seems like he had his company for the night sorted out.

Except that she asked too many questions.

Ransom was not unfamiliar with female company that constantly questioned him about his background. Like you said, the way he dressed, the way he presented himself, even the way he talked, displayed how high up he was in social standings. Now, it just was nothing more than an inconvenience.

With Ransom’s face plastered on every celebrity – and often, business news section for his third DUI — was it even his third? Maybe fourth? — Harlan and Linda finally cut him loose for another bad rep he caused on the family business. Well, maybe as loose as they can take without the press making more of an issue out of it. He served his couple of months since none of his shit family would pay his bail, and he didn’t even have enough on his account because Harlan insisted that Ransom pay the fines and his car repairs by himself.

To make things worse, Ransom had to earn his allowance again by working as Harlan’s research assistant for a few months. Like some fucking child. Which meant he has to stay in town and couldn’t go back to Boston.

Now, he was sitting in a seedy bar to avoid people who know him and still expected to hang around his family until his goddamn parole ended. His self-seething boiled an angry burn in the pit of his stomach, so he began ordering in the shots. If he gets another DUI, so be it. By his fifth shot, the brunette was getting upset at the lack of attention that she turned her attention to the gentleman across the bar.

Ransom didn’t care one bit.

“I know I’m no professional, but you don’t need to get wasted after hearing me sing, dude.”

Ransom turned to the source of melodic giggles and saw you back in the stool you occupied an hour ago. Wait. Did she – or they, whatever that old fart said – just call me dude?

“Definitely not interested in me,” Ransom unconsciously muttered to himself out loud before clearing his last shot glass.

“On the contrary, I find you very interesting,” you chimed, nursing another orange-y mocktail. “I don’t get new faces among my audience, and you look like you know how to have a good time.”

Ransom raised his brow, his interest now spiked. Reads people well, but shit at judging character. He took a glance at Mel, who was busy making drinks for a group of people across the bar. Eat shit, Mel. He smirked as he leaned forward to you. “Are you open to all kinds of fun?”

You tilted your head to the side, looking charming as ever. “What kind of fun are we talking about specifically?”

If Ransom wasn’t the asshole he was, he would be scared over how this person managed to be so openly trusting with that innocent aura they carried. It was almost as if they were hiding something. Then again, so was he.

Maybe Ransom wasn’t going to get another DUI after all. All he needed was a “your place or mine” question, and she – they, damn it – offered to drive at their apartment, mentioning that they had somewhere to be in the morning. By the time they got to their place, he was almost surprised at how the building looked.

It wasn’t a place Ransom would choose to live, but it was definitely around the upper middle-class area of the town, which was something that a bar singer could never afford. Definitely hiding something, he mused. At least he wasn’t going to regret not insisting they go to his place.

“Let’s go? Or are you too drunk? I can drive you home and call a cab from there,” you offered, worry flashing in those innocent eyes.

Ransom scoffed. He was never too drunk for sex. He was never too drunk to drive himself home either. To prove his own point, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a searing hot kiss, not caring that the gear lever was probably digging into your abdomen somewhere.

You smiled against Ransom’s lips before pulling away, tasting a mix of alcohol on your lips. You rubbed at your waist, where the lever lodged itself while Ransom took your breath away, and said, “Okay, dude, you proved your point.” After a pause, you snickered, “Well, not really.”

Ransom rolled his eyes. “Jesus, call me Ransom, enough with ‘dude,’” he said, getting off his Beamer.

You did the same and locked the doors before tossing the keys over to Ransom. His inebriated state had him fumbling over them in his fingers but catching them ultimately. You giggled at the sight, which Ransom thought sounded almost like tinkling bells as he followed you up the steps to the building entrance.

Once both of you were shut inside the elevator, Ransom caged you into a corner and bent down to capture your lips. He didn’t acknowledge how tiny you were in stature until now. The top of your head barely reached his shoulder that, after a while, Ransom decided to lift you by the waist and hook your legs around his waist.

Everything your legs felt was pure hard muscle, all concealed by his thick cable-knit sweater. You didn’t even expect how tiny his waist was until he kept your thighs firmly around it. With your thighs secured, Ransom’s hands slithered up your skirt, grabbing a good handful of your ass that had you whimpering against his lips.

You opened your eyes and glanced at the elevator screen. One floor left. You pecked Ransom’s lips one more time before hopping off the open elevator. At the end of the hall, you grabbed your keys from your purse and unlocked your apartment with Ransom following behind you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Ransom was on you like a starved man. He lifted you on his shoulder, making you screech and giggle uncontrollably, something that only made the heat in Ransom’s belly bubble further. “Bedroom?” he grunted.

“Open door on the left,” you said, your hands sneaking up his thighs. “Wow,” was all you can muster when you stuffed your hands in the back pocket of his pants. Even his ass was pure muscle.

Without any form of gentleness or grace, Ransom dumped you on the bed and began stripping off his clothes, which prompted you to do the same. However, once you got to your stockings, Ransom wagged a finger at you to stop. As you looked at him in question, he finished pulling off his pants, leaving him in his tented boxers.

Clad with only your bra and stockings with your skirt bunched up by your ribcage, you whistled at the sight of Ransom’s sculpted body. “Can I just...?” you trailed off before reaching up to touch his pec, then his broad shoulder before feeling down the very biceps that flexed under his sweater when he manhandled you. “Dude, you’re crazy ripped.”

Ransom flashed you an unamused look from the name before pushing you on your back to the mattress. Your surprised gasp was music to his ears. The second one when he ripped your stockings right at the middle was far sweeter than the first.

“Ransom!” you finally cried out, pouting at your abused clothing.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be crying out my name for better reasons in just a second,” Ransom teased, unhooking your bra with experienced ease before tossing it to the side. He leaned back to admire what he was about to ruin and was pleased to see how you were already so worked up by him simply undressing you.

“I’m mostly crying for my stockings though.”

Ignoring you, Ransom grabbed the thin strip of your thong and dragged it to the side, exposing your slick folds to him. “All this for me? We barely even started yet,” he chuckled, running the pad of his index finger along your slit.

Your hips jumped off the mattress, and you let out a needy moan. Jesus, they should sing those moans at the bar instead, Ransom thought. More...

“Take them off,” you gasped, pulling at the elastic of your stockings. “Ransom, take them off.”

“No.” Ransom slapped your thigh as a warning. “You behave and keep these on. Maybe I’ll reward you if you stay good and keep calling me by my name.”

“Ransom,” you moaned, pushing your hips up as a means to find some sort of friction. “Ransom...”

“So needy, so obedient,” Ransom hummed, finally slipping a finger into your warmth. He appreciated how you eagerly took him in and was ready for more. His biceps were already stinging from your nails digging down as you begged for more.

Yet throughout all that desperation, those eyes looked up at Ransom with the same innocence out on the stage. It filled him with an overwhelming urge to just ruin you but also keep that innocence just for him. Only him.

And he has the entire night taking it all.

Ransom pulled you to the edge of your bed then dangled your legs over his massive shoulders. He heard your breath hitch at the first contact of his lips on the exposed skin of your inner thigh. His amusement extended when you whined out his name again as your hips strained against the firm grip he had on them.

A pinch on your thigh had you yelp when Ransom gave you another warning of behaving. Clenching your toes and fisting your sheets, you relaxed and spread your legs wider, but not before shooting him an impatient glare. That look resulted to a full bite on the opposite thigh, making you cry out.

“Please,” you moaned, panting in anticipation. “I’ve been good so far.” At this stage, you couldn’t even rub your legs together with Ransom settled between them. Your pleasure and relief all relied on him giving you what you needed.

Ransom seemed to take so much pleasure seeing you at his mercy, squirming and crying out for him. He flattened the pad of his tongue and licked a rough trail on your pulsing nub.

“Holy shit,” you hissed, wanting to run your hands all over his hair but chose to dig your nails into the mattress. You didn’t want to seem forward or too personal with the gesture. You were also pretty sure that he took his time styling it. He looks real pretty.

Annoyed that your mind was drifting someplace else, Ransom worked his mouth with an unrelenting pace that had you coming back and moaning without any regard of your neighbours. The walls weren’t paper thin at all, but the volume of the noises Ransom was pulling out of your lips from every suck and lick wasn’t something to underestimate. Heaven forbid you would start screaming by the end of the night, and damn, you were that close when he added his fingers to the mix.

You were quickly losing your breath from the overwhelming pleasure that was running through your veins. Your hyper-fixation on Ransom’s mouth working his magic didn’t even make you notice that your fingers had been pulling at his scalp, just as you wanted earlier. With his own hands busy, you managed to sit up and curl down over his head, scrambling for some sense of control, but Ransom wouldn’t have it.

“Ransom,” you gasped, feeling the coil tighten in your belly.

Ransom pulled his mouth away from your pearl and replaced it with his thumb, wanting to look at your face as you fell apart. Your hair, cropped short, was sticking to all sorts of direction. Seeing your head titled back and eyes squeezed shut, he usually didn’t care, but this time, he wanted to see this girl — fuck, person, whatever — come by his hand.

“No! Why?” you cried out, sitting up and whining as he abruptly stopped altogether. You growled, the adorable sound reminding Ransom of Harlan’s dogs when they were puppies, before they became total nightmares whenever he stopped by. He thought it was cute how you growled and thought you actually had a chance as you struggled by moving your hips with his fingers still inside you.

“That’s right,” Ransom smirked, curling his fingers inside your warmth, causing you to shudder but not enough to come. “Keep your eyes on me, pixie.”

In the midst of your lust-filled haze, you managed to raise a brow at the odd nickname. You heard babe, baby, doll, even the occasional love, but this one... you liked. You allowed it with a bite of your lip as his thumb roughly rubbed at your clit, your eyes fluttering shut again.

“Now, are you gonna be a good g– be good for me?” Ransom caught himself, and he almost hated himself for caring so much about how you identified yourself. I just don’t want to put them out of the mood now that I’m knuckles deep in their pussy, he reasoned with himself.

“Why are you being mean? I’ve been good for you the entire time,” you cried out, falling back on the bed. You could feel your orgasm slipping further and further away, frustration taking its place. You closed your thighs in a desperate attempt to move Ransom’s hand by your control.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Ransom drawled, moving his fingers at an impossibly slow pace from the confined space you created for yourself. “I gave you orders to look at me—”

“I’m looking at you now!”

Ransom glared at you before moving his index finger to pinch at your swollen nub, squeezing a surprised squeal out of you. “Forgetting your manners, pixie,” he spat out.

You opened your mouth, readying for a retort, when the haughty look on Ransom’s face made you rethink on pulling a bratty one on him. With a pout, you spread your legs and sat up, your hands gripping at Ransom’s shoulders. “I need it Ransom, please,” you sweetly begged, your tongue darting out to run against the smirk on his lips.

It must have worked because Ransom lightly pushed you back on the bed and began pumping his fingers at a satisfying pace but still controlled as a warning to keep you aware of him. This time, he also kept his free hand on your knee to keep your legs open. With the pressure building back in your core, you were almost in tears to have Ransom get you there faster. Your head began to turn into mush as you babbled out a mix of his name and pleases.

“Ransom, I’m close,” you panted, your half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open.

Aside from the flush on his neck and chest, Ransom kept his arrogant, self-assured air around him, revelling at the mess that you were right now. “Go on,” he smirked, letting go of your knee to run a trail up your torso. His hand ended up at your neck, and Ransom swore you felt your walls clench on his fingers from the slight pressure on your throat.

Next time, Ransom thought, biting his lips at the thought of an actual next time. When his hand moved down to your breast instead, you almost looked disappointed, but Ransom didn’t let you linger as he curled his fingers just at the right spot, which was all it took for you to fall apart. Ransom leaned over you to catch a perfect view as you cried out through your orgasm, grinding helplessly against his hand.

When your cries died down to tired moans and hums, Ransom slipped his fingers out, causing you to shiver. If you weren’t as flushed and breathless as you were, the embarrassment would definitely show on your face as Ransom held out his hand, wet with your slick and come. Even his signet ring on his pinky now had different kind of shine to it.

“What a mess, Pixie,” Ransom tutted. “You’re too fucked out from just my fingers.” When he began lowering back down your thighs, he hushed your protests, moaning about your sensitivity. “Shh, let me clean you up.”

Ransom managed to drag a smaller yet still thigh-quivering orgasm out of you with his tongue before he finally stripped you off all clothing. He pulled your thighs off his shoulders and climbed back up the bed after a small stop to retrieve a packet from his pants. With a firm grip on your waist, he lifted you onto his lap as he laid back against your headboard, wordlessly telling you what to do.

With your wobbly limbs, you hooked your arms around his neck and captured those soft lips, tasting remnants of yourself on his tongue. Sounds of wet kisses and the crinkling of a foil wrapper filled the room for a good minute before Ransom tapped your bottom as a signal. Reluctantly pulling away from his lips, you raised your hips to position his cockhead at your entrance before slowly sinking down. Despite coming twice, you still felt the burning intrusion of the fat head pushing through.

Ransom took great amusement at the sight of you trying your best to take him in. As small as you were, you managed to take more than half of him before your thighs began shaking. You could definitely take more of him, but damn if he wasn’t starting to feel like coming then and there.

“Tsk, do you need my help? Still?” Ransom asked. “Did you become a useless dumb baby from coming twice?” He tutted as he pulled your face to his, biting at your bottom lip that settled into a pout from his condescending tone.

“Your fi-fingers please,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulder.

Though he would’ve liked to keep you on your toes a little while more, Ransom started to feel the pressure building as well. With a twinge of impatience, which has always been one of his defining qualities, he reached in between you to give you what you needed. Taking him in another inch deep in your tight walls, he finally let out a groan, which turned into a hiss when your walls clenched on him again.

“You like hearing how good you make me feel?” Ransom’s voice was rough and raspy against your ear. “You’re doing so well, Pixie. Just a little bit more.”

You shivered at Ransom’s hot heavy breathing against your ear, combining with the slow circles he was rubbing on your swollen pearl. You did want to take more, but damn, you felt so full that you swore that you can feel every vein lining his dick against your walls. The very thought made you clamp around him again, making you shudder at his breathy moan. You wanted to hear more, just as he pried moan after moan from you earlier.

Now on a mission, you steadied your knees, gripping his broad shoulders for support as you rose up until only the tip of his cock was left inside you. Arrogantly, Ransom remained seated back, both amused and turned on over how committed you were to take all of him in. Not many of his conquests were that bold to take all of him if they didn’t do so in one go. Maybe the truly kinky ones, he mused.

You carefully looked down, and Ransom, definitely knowing what he was doing, pulled his hand away from your clit, to give you an open view of you and him connected. Even though your hole was plugged by Ransom’s cock, it didn’t stop you from leaking down his shaft. You whimpered at the sight, squirming in your place until Ransom grabbed a good handful of your ass, squeezing tight.

“Don’t you dare lose me from that sweet cunt, Pixie. Or else.”

You shuddered at the thought. Would he grab your neck again? Put you over his knee? All terribly bad yet so good ideas, but you focused on the task at hand instead. You hooked your hands around the back of Ransom’s neck, keeping his gaze level to yours. Then… you sank down to his full length.

Holy shitballs. The pleasure that washed over his face and that delicious long groan was enough to make you come. And you did.

“Fuck,” Ransom panted, feeling you pulse around him. He so desperately wanted to follow you over the edge, but this was his first pussy since he got out. He was not ending this night that quickly, not with an unusual find like you. “That’s it,” he grunted, grabbing your hips to pull you underneath him on the mattress. Without giving you a moment to catch your breath, Ransom did not even hesitate to start pounding into your abused hole.

“Wait,” you gasped, feeling the line between pain and pleasure blur. “Ransom, wait!”

Ransom grunted, annoyed but slowed down regardless. “Hurts?”

You shook your head, yet not being able to help your hips jerking up to meet his thrusts. “’m sensitive,” you squeaked.

Ransom let out a noise between a scoff and a chuckle before going back to his unforgiving pace. “You will give me one more,” he declared. “You’ll be good for me, right?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nodded frantically.

“What was that? Use your words, Pixie,” Ransom said, his hand reaching down to place a warning thumb on your clit. Still, his pace caused his finger to move and stroke at the bundle of nerves, sending electricity down to your toes.

You cried and tried to pull his hand away. “No more,” you begged. “Can’t. No more.”

He easily moved your hand away and shoved it back to your side. “One more, one more,” Ransom panted, his release quickly approaching. “Fuck, you feel so good.” His rhythm was starting to falter as he chased his peak while you were reduced into a mess of babbles and cries.

“Your pussy is fucking choking me,” Ransom growled. “You’re going to make me come. Yeah? Are you gonna let me come on that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Ransom!” you babbled almost noncoherently.

“Fuck!” Ransom shouted as you squirted around him, the wetness spraying on his thighs. He quickly pulled out and crawled up to you, ripping off the condom and tossing it to the side. He tapped the head of his cock against your waiting tongue.

Your eyes locked into Ransom’s towering figure as he knelt over the side of your head, roughly stroking himself to finish. Then there it was. The man’s O-face was so deliciously sinful that your core traitorously throbbed just from the sight of it.

Spray after spray of his come filled your mouth. Ransom carefully held the back of your head but not pulling you deep enough to reach the back of your throat, and you knew exactly why. When Ransom started to calm down, you pulled away but not before giving his tip one last suckle to catch the remaining drops.

You leaned up on your elbows, not trusting your legs to sit down. You looked up at Ransom who was staring down at you, panting and eyes dark. You flashed him a close-lipped smile before sticking out your tongue, showing him most of his spend, thick and heavy. You giggled when you swirled your tongue around your lips, dribbling all over your chin.

Ransom’s cock twitched at the sight, making him growl at you in warning. As much as he wanted to keep you up until it was bright outside, he was starting to feel the downside effects of all the alcohol he consumed at the base of his skull. Maybe if he had a bump he could definitely go on, but the drugs he carried that night was confiscated when he got arrested.

Instead, Ransom cupped your jaw, tilting your head higher. His thumb scooped back his come and pushed it back into your mouth. He then pressed his thumb against your lips, keeping them shut. Much to his approval, he saw the slight movement of your throat. Not a quitter, he mused.

“Did I do good?” you looked up at him hopefully.

Ransom smirked. “You were a very good g— you were good, Pixie,” he said, dropping down on the bed beside you to catch his breath.

You giggled. “I don’t know what Mel told you, but you can still call me girl, you know. I don’t mind either way.”

Ransom scoffed, caught red-handed. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Nice to know you actually care, dude,” you said, finally deciding to sit up. You absolutely needed to go use the bathroom now. Maybe brush your teeth.

Swinging your legs at the edge of the bed to test them, you carefully stood up and made your way into the bathroom, aware of Ransom’s eyes on your backside. Once inside the bathroom, you grabbed your toothbrush, loaded it with toothpaste, then took a seat on the toilet. After relieving yourself, you finished brushing your teeth before going back to your bedroom.

Much to your surprise, Ransom was still on your bed, now passed out. Even though he seemed to be the type to leave right after a hook-up, you figured all that alcohol he had at Mel’s finally caught up to him. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t the first time a one-night stand actually stayed the night on your bed.

Though you may have underestimated his size because your double-sized bed made it seem like a single from all the space he took.

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