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queerfables · 8 months

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Alright GO fans, let's talk Sodom and Gomorrah. This biblical story comes up a few times in Good Omens canon, a kind of offhand mention each time, and the most interesting part to me is the implication that Aziraphale was there.

If you only know the cliff-notes version, you've probably heard it as the story of God condemning homosexuality to the point of wiping out several cities over it. Maybe you've heard this too, but - that's not exactly what happened. Look, I'm an atheist, I have no dog in this race. If I thought it was about smiting people for homosexuality, I'd be happy to call God a wanker and move on. But I've read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (You can too! It's very short!) and I've read other parts of the Bible that reference it, and I think a much more straightforward interpretation is that it's about offering hospitality and protection to strangers. It's also about the consequences of wanton cruelty, and God laying waste to those deemed beyond salvation.

In Good Omens, the book, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Sodom and Gomorrah this way:

"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly.

"Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?"

"Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-"

"I meant afterwards."

"Oh."

According to the book, then, Aziraphale at least saw the city after it was destroyed. Maybe Crowley saw the aftermath too or maybe he just heard about it. They both understand it as horrific.

The show is more direct, and suggests that Aziraphale was there during the actual destruction. Gabriel asks if Aziraphale remembers Sandalphon. Aziraphale does.

"Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. Hard to forget."

Aziraphale regards Sandalphon warily during the conversation. I believe we're supposed to interpret this scene based on the popular understanding of Sodom and Gomorrah as cities that God wiped out because of the inhabitants' sins. The obvious implication, then, is that Sandalphon is the heavy, the one called in to deal with disobedience. He's trigger-happy, relishes violence, and Aziraphale has seen what he's capable of. From the careful way Aziraphale discusses their prior acquaintance, I think he feels the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tragedy and believes Heaven's actions were disproportionate and unjust.

I'm confident this is how we're supposed to read the scene. In the context of the story, we're supposed to understand that Aziraphale doesn't approve of the smiting, and that he feels threatened by Gabriel and Sandalphon coming into his bookshop and pressing him about Armageddon. But I'm fascinated by what it would mean if Aziraphale and Sandalphon's history really tracks onto the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because if Good Omens' version of Sodom and Gomorrah is at all biblically accurate, and if Aziraphale was there... it's kind of mind-blowing, actually, that he still feels so much compassion for the people who died and still thinks Sandalphon was wrong.

I'm going to explain why, but fair warning, it gets ugly. I promise nobody is actually raped, and I think that promise in itself says plenty.

According to the Bible, Sodom and its surrounding cities are accused of being overrun with sin. God sends two angels to Sodom to verify this, intending to destroy everything if they find it to be true. In the world of Good Omens, I think one of these angels must be Aziraphale. The other one is likely Sandalphon, but in the Bible it's God rather than either of the angels who rains down burning sulfur on the cities so it's possible it's someone else, and Sandalphon is only on smiting duty. Without anything else to go on, though, let's assume it's Sandalphon.

So our two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and at the gate to the city, they meet Lot. Lot is an immigrant who has made his home in Sodom, and I think the implication is that this is why he's not completely steeped in sin like everyone else. In any case, he immediately offers to put the angels up for the night, and although they'd planned to stay in the square, Lot is really insistent. He is a good host! Also, he knows the city is dangerous. So the angels go to his house and he makes dinner for them, and then before they can go to bed, a mob shows up at the door.

See, the men of Sodom have heard about the strangers staying with Lot. They surround his house and demand he hand them over. The New King James Version puts it this way: And they called to Lot and said to him, "Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally." Several other translations say that the men wanted to "have sex with them". But I mean. It's a fucking mob. They've surrounded the house. We all get what this is, right?

So Lot goes out to meet the men, and he says "Don't do this terrible thing." Off to a good start! Then he says, "Tell you what, I have two virgin daughters. Do what you like to them and we'll say no more about it." Oh boy. Dad of the year award, right there. But still, he insists, "The angels are under my roof and my protection."

The men outside Lot's house are pissed. They say, "You're an outsider, who are you to judge us?" They threaten to do worse to him than to the angels. They swarm him and almost break the door down, but the angels pull him back inside.

The angels then strike the mob with blindness to stop them getting into the house. They say to Lot, "Look, you gotta take your family and get out of here. God sent us to see how bad things were and, uh, long story short, we're burning it all to the ground. You get it, right?"

Maybe you know the rest. Lot's son-in-laws don't believe him and won't leave the city. Lot's wife looks back and turns into a pillar of salt. Lot and his daughters take shelter in a small town called Zoar, and from there flee to the mountains. Everything else is destroyed.

It is a tragedy. The plains are leveled down to ash, until there's nothing left that can even grow. Was there really no one innocent in those cities? No children or animals? (You can't kill kids). Still, I think about that awful night under Lot's roof and I don't think I could blame anyone for giving up on all of it.

So what if that's the story? There were two angels in Sodom before it fell. What if it really was Aziraphale and Sandalphon, trapped through the night in a stranger's house, surrounded by men who want to rape them. Whatever their power as angels, that has to be terrifying.

If it was Sandalphon there with Aziraphale that night in Sodom, I have to wonder what he was like. There isn't any kinship or understanding from Aziraphale. Despite knowing the circumstances better than anyone, he still sees Sandalphon as a threat. Given that, I think Sandalphon must have taken a truly disturbing kind of joy in raining down vengeful fire and brimstone, beyond what you might expect from someone who was afraid or angry. Maybe he was never afraid; maybe instead he revelled in the violence building through the night as the reason he needed to tear everything down. Maybe he was afraid in the terrible way that exposes the depths someone will sink to to protect themselves (maybe offering his daughters was never Lot's idea). Or maybe Aziraphale just tried to reach out to him afterwards, to offer understanding and ask for some in return, and Sandalphon shot him down so coldly and viciously that Aziraphale knew immediately this wasn't something he was allowed to have feelings about. Whatever happened that night, it left Aziraphale feeling more of an outsider from Heaven than ever.

But if it happened that way, it happened this way too: Aziraphale survives a night like that, and when he looks out into the breaking dawn, he thinks, these cities don't deserve to burn. He sees the good in a place that's just shown him its absolute worst. I think that says everything about him as a character, actually. Of course he won't give up on Heaven. Of course he'll fight tooth and nail for his home on Earth. Whatever the worst is, there are still things worth saving. There are still, always, people worth protecting.

On that note, before I wrap this up, I want to go back to Lot's words to the men of Sodom, and draw a parallel that makes me feel some kind of way. Because when Lot declares the angels under his protection, what he says is essentially, "Do not do anything to these men, for they have come under the shadow of my roof for protection." And all I can think about, reading these lines, is Aziraphale standing in his bookshop as it's surrounded by hostile demons, and telling the angel under the shadow of his roof, "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will."

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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chargeeboltz · 2 years

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smokers area - bakugo x reader

(kinktober entry one - semi public sex)

wc : 1.7k

18+ mdni, contains absolute filth tyvm contains: bakugo possessiveness, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, fucking raw, creampies I suppose (bakugo cums inside), degrading, humiliation if u squint?!

it takes a while for bakugo to catch on to what you’re doing, but once he does he feels a familiar burn in his chest. if there’s anything you’ve learned from dating your bonfire of a boyfriend, it’s that he loves the chase. the chase where he has to work for it, the one that drives him crazy. you’ve been setting this up for a little while now, cooking for him in shorts that leaves the globes of your ass exposed, pairing it with the tiniest shirt in your closet. your excuse for the entire situation had been the heroes award show, hosted every year to go over their achievements thus far. an incredibly important event to bakugo, tonight will be his chance to shine, and you’re giving him all the opportunities you need to for him to get ready and finally be on time for something. throughout your cooking, he hadn’t moved from his chair - his eyes had tracked your every movement while you swayed about the kitchen, movements entirely too sensual for your boyfriend to ignore. he rises from the chair with a soft grunt, but before he can even take one step, you whirled around and told him to “relax! I can handle cooking us dinner!” with that irresistible smile of yours. stage two is in action now, stood around the bar with some of your closest friends after one of the most prestigious hero events you all know.

kirishima is encouraging your boyfriend to drink ungodly amounts of alcohol, goading the UA heroes into many drinking games, each more rowdy than the previous. after events such as these, the old students of UA used it as a chance to catch up, to spend some much needed time unwinding with old friends, people who understand the line of work you’re in. even precious deku has had too much to drink, his cheeks redder than anyone had ever seen them during their UA years. despite the loud guffaws, the conversations everyone is having, you know bakugo has his eyes on you for the majority of the night. you stand, talking away to ochako, ashido, yaoyorozu, anyone who catches your attention at the same time bakugo tries to. of course, your friends are far too drunk to realise this, and you’re a little tipsy yourself, uncomfortably aware of the heat in your cheeks and the way your tongue struggles to wrap around some words. bakugo however, has realised this entirely and is getting more riled up by the second, the familiar scent of caramel making its way through your senses as he struggles to contain his frustration.

after you finish talking to an overly eager kaminari about his new hero gear - which works perfectly if you had to admit it - you feel bakugo’s presence before you see him. kaminari’s eyes leave your face, and he grins up at the figure behind you, eyes lighting up at the realisation that he has someone else to drunkenly ramble about his gear to. before he can even slur a word out from between his lips, bakugo cuts him off with a harsh grunt. “having quality time with my girlfriend, fuck off.”

denki coos at him, but with one glance between the two of you, he reads the situation like a book and chokes out a laugh. “by quality time you mean you’re about to eyefuck her in front of all your old classmates, right?” he taunts, watching bakugo’s reaction with glee on his face. you laugh, bright and bubbly, and it’s like all his anger melts before your eyes. bakugo has never been able to resist your charm, and even when he’s mad at you, your laugh could ease the deepest of his miseries.

“oh come on denki! we’re not like that!” you defend, but your face is warm from the implications, the alcohol bringing thoughts to your mind about your boyfriend taking you in front of some of the world’s best pro heroes. denki just laughs, loud and relaxed, before shaking his head and walking off, shouting something about leaving you guys to it. you don’t have any time to worry about what he says, because bakugo is lacing calloused fingers between your own and leading you out into the smokers. his cologne invades your senses, only adding to the slowly flickering flames of lust pooling in your belly. you’d be stupid to think he hasn’t realised - he saw your face when denki made those comments and he figured out there and then that he had hit the nail right on the head.

“you gonna continue to brush me off for everyone else?” bakugo accuses, crimson eyes burning into your own as you stare up at him, jaw slack and eyes wide.

“was never brushing you off, pretty,” you defend, trying to goad him with the pet names slipping off your tongue like liquid honey. his jaw clenches for a second, but he seems to relax, grip loosening on your hand as he leans down to your ear, hair tickling your face.

“nah, you were just fantasising about me bending you over that table in front of ‘em all, hm?”

you gasp, and bakugo’s face splits into a devilish grin, eyes narrowing and teeth bared. “oh sugar, ya really thought i couldn’t tell? ya think i’m stupid, hm?”

any attempt you make to deny it gets cut off - as soon as you part your lips bakugo surges forward and catches you in a deep kiss, claiming your mouth with fiery passion. whatever words you had conjured as an excuse are gone from your mind as soon as he touches you, replaced with a fire burning so bright you’re half tempted to drop to your knees and beg him to take you here and now. his hand slips under the hem of your dress, hiking it up slightly and rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. you feel the cool breeze on your exposed ass, and whine in protest, but bakugo makes no effort to rectify it, instead tugging it up further.

when he pulls away, you gasp for breath as he chuckles, dark. “thought you wanted to be fucked in public?” he taunts, squeezing your ass to punctuate his words. you couldn’t deny it if you wanted to, letting out a desperate whimper as he rubs his fingers over your underwear. “you’re soaked for me, you really want this that bad?”

“please, kats, need you,” you gasp out, and the stupid plan flies out of the window as he groans, grabbing your hair and forcing your back to bend for him. he instructs you to put your hands on the wall, and you don’t consider disobeying, using the wall to support you. bakugo hisses as he unbuckles his belt, tugging you back by your hair to lathe kisses over your neck, muttering about how you better keep fucking quiet, don’t want deku to see you getting fucked stupid.

you can do nothing but nod dumbly, rocking back against him and whimpering. “fuck a condom, wan’ you to fill me up,” your voice breaks on the words, desperate in a way you’ve never been before. his sharp intake of air behind you makes you whimper louder, before he groans and pushes you up against the wall, filling you in one thrust. it forces a gasp out of you - he’s so big you feel like you’ve had the breath kicked out of you, and it doesn’t take long for you to go lightheaded from pleasure. bakugo chuckles behind you, starting to fuck you without holding back in any way, letting out all his previous frustrations on you.

“ya go an’ ignore me for shitty fucking denki, but in the end ya come runnin’ back for my cock, hm?” he growls, voice low and husky in your ear. “keep fuckin’ quiet, princess, can you do that for me?”

you nod frantically, muffling your desperate moans in your arm as he fucks you senseless, stretching you out in a way that makes you see stars, hitting the spots that make your legs turn to jelly, and your eyes roll back. he moans low, catching your hair in his hand and tugging you back towards him, fucking impossibly deeper. “you ever fuckin’ taunt me like that again and i swear, i’ll make you scream my name for all those shitty extras to see, show off how well you take my cock, how much i fuckin’ own you, yeah?”

his words go straight to your cunt, and he hisses as he feels your walls clench around him, hips stuttering as he fights off the urge to cum there and then. “you close?” he chokes out, biting down at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, sure to leave a mark. when you nod, he chuckles, his hand devoid ring a harsh slap to your ass that echoes through the smokers area. your face heats up further, your legs beginning to shake as you fight off your orgasm.

“please- fuck, please,” you hiss, begging to no avail. bakugo laughs behind you and leans over you just that bit more, filling you to the brim. “nah, you haven’t quite earned that yet, have you?” he hums, unfazed by your begging. “‘m gonna fill you with my cum, make you walk around with me drippin’ out of you, n if you can manage that without anyone guessing what it is, then you can cum when i fuck you stupid at home, sound good?” he grunts, fucking you harder to accentuate his point.

you cry out and nod, vision blurring with tears - he isn’t giving you a second to calm down and you’re going wild. the familiar scent of caramel fills your nose, and his hands on your hips burn for a second before he moans deep in your ear, burying himself to the hilt and filling you to the brim with his cum. he pulls out slowly, grunting a little as he helps you up, redresses you and kisses your temple.

“atta good girl, promise I’ll let you cum later no matter what happens,” he reassures, his face soft as he looks at your own, mouth slack and eyes glossy from how well he fucked you.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #mha hcs #bnha hcs #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #bakugo x reader smut #chargeeboltz #dude first fic lets go?

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shkika · 1 year

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[RECORDED BROADCAST : 1681.662] - PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, Chasing Wind

CW: Have you had any contact with Five Pebbles recently?

SRS: Not in a long while actually! Unless worrying about him counts.

CW: One of his neighbors, Unparalleled Innocence, sent an overseer to his can and got some images. They were made public in the local group, in an effort to be mean I suppose. There's no other way of putting it he looks awful.

SRS: Tell me.

CW: He's got the rot, very badly. Big cysts have become mobile and are scattering down the west and middle legs. He does listen to you, and few others by now, so you should talk to him.

SRS: I will try to contact him. Does Moon know?

CW: Moon has been unavailable for some time.

[Pending upload to local group records by dispatched Overseer. Unit will enter read only state in 432 cycles.]

UI leaked pebbles rot images in the local group, but suns didn't know until CW told them, which might imply that they are not part of the local group

THIS DISCUSSION IS GOING!! I've gotten a bunch of asks about this along with tags and replies oh my. Just gonna state that Suns to me and in my ask-blog is part of the local group and honestly at this point even if James himself came up to told me I'm wrong I can't change that cause I set it up already ..? SO UHH hm

ANYWAY LET'S RAMBLE!!

I honestly think the strongest pointer to the implication that SRS isn't part of the local group is the fact they didn't know about Pebbles' situation first. So Chasing Wind had to tell them!

I see it! I've always made the assumption they just weren't active in the local group messages (just like how we haven't seen a single word about Innocence in the game even if she's canonically closest to Moon and Pebbles out of the others)

^ Especially, because I assumed this meant that UI spread the information further than just the local group. Which! I don't know!

I don't think my assumption is FULLY baseless, just because of how the approach the conversation with NSH is?

They're being vague about hurting someone. If the chats were in the local group, which NSH has access to, but SRS doesn't it feels so bizarre to me they'd try to vague point at it as if there's any chance NSH wouldn't have already seen. Like what hopes do you have buddy?? The fact that Pebbles has the rot and is in such a terrible condition is like uhm... well yeah.

Still they've never been active in a local group chat and it was through Chasing that they found out about the rot situation so I don't know!

Also a good point!! Once again I read it differently! I thought the "She's very close to Five Pebbles" wasn't a descriptor, but more so a reason on why he's worried about her. "She's close to him (rot infested doofus) and I'm her friend man"

Them not knowing Moon very well isn't too much of evidence for either statement. What they did not understand about Moon is why she wouldn't force Pebbles to stop dead in his tracks and save her life. Which is an extremely valid question, because as his administrator she had the power to do so. NSH is a close friend of hers group or not and explains.

They do still call her Big Sis Moon which is rather weird if you're not part of her local group? Aside also shortening her name to just Moon. (which could be either familiarity or convenience, no solid evidence)

They also got into contact with Five Pebbles VERY soon after he was put online according to SRS themselves which is possible both ways! Just felt more likely if they were part of the local group.

AND SPEARMASTER.

We don't know what "local group" means, but I always assumed, because of the name it partly meant distance.

Iterators are VERY far from each other, usually. Like quite far even local group wise. I assumed that for a slug cat like Spearmaster to have been capable to make the journey to Pebbles and back... and then do the same AGAIN, it meant that SM made a long journey, but one that was like... y'know not from one part of the continent to the other big.

I assume distance plays a role, because in a cream pearls..

The implication is that Local groups held out together the longest.

I can't imagine this poor creature covering a such a massive worth of land on foot..!

SM was given the pearl inside their chest mainly for it to be hidden, but also as an instinct that's true! So they know where to go.

Hunter doesn't have that not because it isn't needed, but because NSH was rushing. As implied by these lines.

NSH was rushing them so much they ended up with the rot, I doubt there was any time left to perfect a homing instinct or do much of anything really. I think NSH is probably closer than SRS (just for poor Hunter's sake honestly), but I don't know by how much really- iterators seem to be built PRETTY far from each other. The only other closest neighbor is UI. Which means NSH is farther than her.

But either way yeah. I've dug info for a WHILE now I can't seem to find any super solid evidence for either. I'm just sharing my interpretation as always. You can headcanon either one of these and call them canon in my book really.

#this feels like an ace attorney case #ask #anonymous #rain world #PHEW ITS LONG #im tired #sahdhdsfjd #im soooo tired #yeah so!!!#go wild go free #the only canonical guys in the local group are moon; pebbles; chasing; nsh; ui #suns is up to you #*faints*#hope i havent misses anything or gotten something terribly wrong oh dearrr #also #suns had multiple overseers at pebbles'#not just one #so like those also had to travel

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 2 years

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Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Ten

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary:

You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.

Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.

This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.

Chapter Summary: A reunion.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1245

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @noz4a2 @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes: This one's a little short but next week will be meaty, I promise. No particular warnings for this one aside from the usuals. Some yelling and arguing (not between Pietro and reader), I guess. A misunderstanding.

---

Pietro would take care of it. That was what he’d promised you. You didn’t talk about it – you couldn’t talk about it, not without putting everything at risk – so your only way of keeping track was watching Pietro’s frustration grow as the months went on.

By the time you were four months pregnant, the swell of your belly was starting to show signs of the life growing inside it, and you felt no closer to escape. You wanted to talk to Pietro, to ask him what his plan was, but you couldn’t risk jeopardising it.

So you kept quiet. You had faith in Pietro. He told you that he wouldn’t let you give birth in this place, and you trusted him.

You woke one morning the way you always did, with the father of your unborn child lying behind you, his arm thrown protectively over your stomach. The only sign that this wasn’t a normal morning was the sound of the door to your quarters opening and closing.

Hazily, you sat up, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. Nobody else ever came in here while you were in here. You knew that there were cleaning staff that came while you were at training, but they had always cleared out long before you got back.

As you vision cleared, you saw a familiar figure by the door, staring at you and Pietro.

“Wanda?”

Your name fell from her lips, and then she sprinted over to you, throwing her arms around you. “{Oh my god, it’s so good to see you},” she cried, cupping your face in her hands. Behind you, Pietro sat up.

“Wanda?” he said blearily.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the curve of your belly. “{You- You’re-}”

“{Pregnant},” you supplied. “{Yes}.”

Her eyes flickered from you to Pietro and back. “{Who is the father? Pietro?}”

You felt your cheeks heating up at the implication. “{Yes, Pietro is the father},” you said, not meeting her eyes.

She stared at you. Pietro was standing up now, but as he moved to give his sister a hug, she stopped him.

“{Pietro. Come with me. Now}.” She grabbed him by the pyjama shirt and pulled him along behind her. You watched the two of them retreating into the bathroom, confused and starting to feel anxious.

Although you knew this was supposed to be a private conversation, you couldn’t help but follow them. Wanda had closed the door behind them, so you stood there hesitantly, until you heard Wanda’s voice.

“{What the FUCK were you thinking?}” she yelled. “{Getting her pregnant?! Do you know how dangerous that is? But no, you couldn’t keep it in your pants for two seconds. Was I the only thing that was keeping you two from going at it like rabbits? You must’ve got it on as soon as I was gone-}”

You couldn’t listen any longer. You knocked on the door, and Wanda fell silent immediately. The door stayed closed, so you called through it.

“{Wanda? Please don’t be angry with Pietro. It’s not what you think}.” The door opened, revealing a very red-faced Wanda, and a stony looking Pietro. “{Come and sit down},” you implored. “{We’ll explain everything}.”

You took each of them by the hand, gently tugging them towards the sofa. You sat in the middle, as a buffer between the twins.

Pietro was tense, and Wanda’s eyes were wide as she looked at the two of you, some mixture of confusion and anger on her face.

“{We didn’t choose this},” you said. “{Strucker said we were a part of his… breeding programme}.”

Wanda’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t lower them for the duration of your explanation. You spoke haltingly, leaving out the more sordid or personal details, but as you told her the whole story, you watched her frown deepen.

When you were finished, she stared at her brother. “… Pietro?” she said after a moment. He didn’t respond, so she stood up and walked over to him. “{I’m sorry for yelling. I was just worried about you. Both of you}.”

Silently, Pietro got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his twin sister. You looked away, feeling as though you were encroaching on a private moment.

“{I’ve missed you},” Pietro murmured.

“{I’ve missed you too, brother}.” After a moment, they separated, and Wanda turned to you. You let her pull you to your feet and hug you. “{And I’ve missed you, little sister. I suppose that nickname has more meaning now, hey? Now that I’m going to be an aunt}.”

You chuckled, blinking back tears. Pietro’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “{Where have you been, Wanda?}”

“{They moved me to a different part of the compound},” she said. “{They told me that they wanted me to focus on my powers, with no distractions. I supposed I know the real reason now}.”

“{Did they…}” Pietro looked troubled, his lips twisted into a frown. Fortunately for him, his sister was a mind-reader, and knew what he was going to ask before he did.

“{No one hurt me. No one laid a finger on me. Do not worry about me, brother}.”

“{Let’s watch a movie?}” Pietro suggested. You opened your mouth to argue – you were seeing Wanda for the first time in months and he wanted to waste it? – but he gave you a meaningful look.

He barely checked the cover of the DVD before putting it in the player. The TV, player and DVDs had been gifted to you as a reward for getting pregnant. You were grateful for them. Since you’d become pregnant, your training had been scaled back, but Pietro’s schedule was just as busy as ever, so you had spent a lot more time alone in your room.

As you settled down with Wanda in between you, you understood why Pietro had been so insistent on watching something.

‘Pietro wants me to tell you that he is still going to get you out of here,’ came Wanda’s voice in your head. ‘He was just waiting for the right opportunity. Now that I’m here, it will be easier.’

‘Thank you,’ you thought back to her, and she took your hand in hers.

‘I’m sorry for the pain that you’ve been through. If I’d have known, I would’ve torn down the walls to get back to you two.’

You stayed like that for a while, absentmindedly watching the movie that you’d seen a dozen times by this point, all while mentally conversing with Wanda. You could tell that her and Pietro were having a conversation too, by the long pauses that she sometimes took.

‘Why now?’ you asked her. ‘Why did they let you see us now?’

‘I think they were trying to keep us separated for as long as possible. But I was growing restless. So they decided to appease me. But now I know about the baby, there’s no way I’m going back there. I’m staying right here.’

You squeezed her hand. ‘What will you do?’

A half-smirk flickered across her face, although her eyes were glued to the TV screen. ‘I can be very persuasive. You’ll see.’

‘Thank you,’ you thought, and then, after a moment, ‘I really do love him, you know? It wasn’t just because of the… because of Strucker’s… because of what Strucker made us do. I think I’ve loved him for a long time.’

She interlaced her fingers with yours. ‘I know, sweet girl, I know.’

Next Chapter

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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recoveringdreamer · 3 months

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TIMING: current LOCATION: the grit pit PARTIES: @endlessevenings & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: after mahuika has some fun from the audience in the grit pit, felix tracks her down for a conversation. CONTENT: implications of mind control

The Grit Pit certainly lived up to its same – in that, it was gritty, and there also was grit all around. It was almost enough to make Mahuika turn around and leave, but that wouldn’t have been very fun at all, and she figured turning down fun was exceedingly lame and just simply Not It.

She didn’t necessarily like watching fights – which, she supposed, was counter in some ways to what one might have expected of her, but the excessive and played out violence just wasn’t really her jam. Sure, making people do whatever the heck she wanted them to was fun, but false violence just for grins and money wasn’t her jam. Usually. Which was probably mostly to say that she hadn’t yet found a way to take full advantage of it.

Not that Mahuika liked to focus on any of her failures (and yes, not knowing how to take full advantage of a situation was a failure), but sometimes it was important. It was important for like, growth, or something like that. Right? She nodded, thinking to herself, affirming herself. (Because who the heck else was going to do that?)

The fight she’d decided to watch today seemed to be distinctly going in the favor of one of the people over the other, and maybe just maybe she could do her little over-the-top flick of her wrist and put the current loser in a more advantageous position. They both looked human-ish, right now, and so when she made one of them unable to punch the other, permitting that person to take the upper hand, Mahuika felt a deep sense of satisfaction. So she did it a few more times, over the course of the fight, finally allowing the would-be loser to come out on top.

And people said she wasn’t charitable!

She’d put on her coat and started to leave, once the fight was over, when she heard someone coming up behind her.

Another night, another fight. That was how Felix’s life had gone for years now, so long that they sometimes found themself struggling to remember how things had been before. They knew things had been different in the past, of course — those memories were firmly intact — but remembering the feeling of it was a much harder thing. Had they felt free then? Or had their inability to fathom a life like this before they were living it made everything feel commonplace, mundane? It was difficult to say, and it didn’t matter. As their bosses were fond of reminding them, their life before the Pit was inconsequential. This was their life now.

So, they were in the ring. They were trading blows with a lamia who seemed really on top of things tonight, barely holding their own. The jaguar was firmly tucked away for the moment, but Felix could feel him itching for an escape. He wanted out, wanted to take control, wanted to stop the fight from being one that hurt. And if Felix wasn’t careful, he’d do just that. Control was such a slippery thing these days, so hard to grasp.

They felt it slipping more and more, knew that they were moments from losing it entirely, when the tides shifted in a way that didn’t make sense. Suddenly, the lamia who’d been two steps ahead of him all night long froze where he stood. He looked confused, his hand clenched into a fist that wasn’t moving. Felix hesitated, but took the advantage. They threw another punch, and the lamia stayed still. They swept his feet out from under him, and he made no move to block. A few more hits and the match was called with Wildcat as the winner.

As the crowd cheered, Felix let their eyes scan the audience, eyes settling on a woman who didn’t seem to fit in with the rest. It looked like she was concentrating on something and, tracing her eyes, Felix was able to see that his fallen opponent was the source of that concentration. When she looked away, the lamia immediately flailed his limbs, whatever spell had been over him seemingly broken.

Huh.

Felix wasn’t much of a detective, but they knew how to add two and two. They knew how to come up with the obvious answer to a question that didn’t make sense. As the announcer came on to set up the next fight, Felix slipped out of the ring and moved towards the woman, following her until the crowd dispersed a little. Hesitant, they tapped her shoulder. “Um… hi?”

—

“Hi!” Her expression was far too enthusiastic, but now that Mahuika had committed to being Like That she figured she had to continue on with it. Which wasn’t so fun, but at the same time, it was something of a complete delight. It was fake, but the person in front of her didn’t know that. They didn’t know anything at all about her. Which, of course, worked in her favor. Besides, she’d helped them win, and there was no reason to be anything but grateful for that, right?

“Good game – is that what they say? Or would it just be ‘good fight’? That seems oxymoronic. Not moronic. I’m not calling you a moron, by the way! In case you were wondering about that.” They probably weren’t, but it was good to make sure, right? Totally and absolutely.

She popped a piece of bubble gum (cotton candy flavored) in her mouth. “Was there something you needed? I was headed out, but I totally can chill.” They couldn’t have known she’d helped them win, right? People didn’t just figure stuff like that out, right? Mahuika frowned for a moment. That wasn't something that she did. She was good at what she did. The very best, even.

“So like, what’s up?”

—

They were caught a little off guard at the cheeriness in her tone. Usually, people in the crowd here were… harder. Angry, scary, reveling in the violence of the Pit. Sometimes, someone might wander in off the street who didn’t quite belong, but those people were more likely to leave terrified than cheerful. Felix blinked at her greeting, unsure how to proceed. In all honesty, they hadn’t thought very far ahead at all, hadn’t planned on how to properly interact with her once the initial ‘boundary’ had been crossed.

“Oh.” The more she spoke, the more confused Felix became. She wasn’t calling them a moron, but they kind of felt like one. “I don’t really… know what people say?” Mostly because they didn’t usually want to hear it. Leo praised them after a fight, sometimes, but it only ever made them feel worse about themself.

They were still at a loss. Had they imagined something here? Had they made up some story in their mind, absolved themself of some of the guilt of the last fight by inventing a fantastical element? “Uh… I just… Something was weird. About the last fight. Something was weird, and not right, and you — You looked like you were doing something, so I thought you might have had something to do with it? Which is fine. If you did. I wouldn’t be mad or tell anyone or anything. I just — I just wanted to know.”

—

“That makes two of us!” God, she was going to drive herself crazy with the overly peppy cheeriness. But it would probably also be bad to pull back on that, at least right now. But they’d been the one to initiate contact with her, so that had to mean something, didn’t it? Mahuika affirmed to herself that yes, this was in fact absolutely the case and that, as always, she was right and that she just had to maybe be patient (ugh) and see what they needed.

They said she’d looked like she was doing something, and Mahuika crossed her arms at that, raised an eyebrow. “I – why do you wanna know? What wasn’t right about it? You winning? You deserve to win, your opponent seemed like a dick. Which means they seemed terrible. Maybe you’re like, way stronger than you think?” She clicked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “What would you do if I had done something? Just, like, totally hypothetically.”

—

She was still so cheery, and Felix still didn’t know what to do with it. They didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know the appropriate reaction to have. Even on their best day, they sometimes struggled with normal interactions, and today wasn’t their best day. And this interaction wasn’t normal, so the odds were kind of stacked against them here, weren’t they?

They watched her reaction carefully. She didn’t deny it; if anything, her response seemed to confirm what Felix had seen. “I — I don’t think he’s a dick. He was just, uh, doing his job. Same as me.” Until he wasn’t, until he’d stopped and Felix had come out on top with an undeserved victory. “I won’t tell anyone or get you in trouble or — I just want to know. If you did it or not. And, um, maybe how you did it? If you did.”

—

“No, he was a dick. You’re not, though, FYI.” She didn’t care to argue all too much, just enough to give them pushback. Mahuika nearly made a face at the consideration of the fact that she was trying to defend them and that she’d thought to use her powers to make them think good things about themself. Which had to mean that she was altruistic, right? Screw anybody who’d thought otherwise, ever.

“Magic.” Mahuika elected not to lie, right now (you know, just for the hell of it and all, right?). “I’m just naturally skilled, that’s all. I just wanted to see if I could.” Her smile wasn’t kind, but to anybody who didn’t know her, it could’ve been seen as kind. “And clearly I could, ‘cause you really looked like you were gonna lose, and then you didn’t. Which is good, though why do you work there? It’s dirty and smells too much like sweat.”

—

“Do you, uh… know him?” Maybe she was a friend (or enemy) of the lamia, someone who knew him better than Felix did. It wouldn’t be a hard accomplishment, really; the balam knew very few of their coworkers outside of work. Maybe this one had done something to the woman at some point, something she deemed made him worthy of the title of dick.

Magic? “Like… actual magic?” Felix lowered their voice a little. “Spellcaster magic? I didn’t — uh, I didn’t know it could do that?” She’d been trying to help them, and maybe they owed her a little for that. “I… It was nice of you to help. But it’s probably dangerous. The people in charge here don’t like anyone messing with the fights.” They elected not to answer the question of why they worked there; it was a can of worms they didn’t want to open.

—

“What? No. But he had a bad vibe. A dickish vibe. I know things. Just go with me on this one, okay?” She could make them go with her if she really wanted, but Mahuika wanted to give them a chance to go with her on their own, first. They seemed agreeable enough anyhow. Which just meant that she only had to use her natural (aka not magically created) charm on them in order to help them understand.

“Oh, not everyone can do that. I’m special,” Mahuika gestured up and down at herself, “in case that wasn’t glaringly obvious. But I’ll forgive you, you’ve just been through a hell of a fight.” Another giggle. “Oh, I’m not really worried about what the people in charge here think, I’m pretty damn good at getting what I want, so you don’t have to worry about me, but it’s so cute that you do.” She crossed her arms. “I could make you win more, if you wanted. We could figure something out. You don’t need to answer me now, but soon, yeah?” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I think it could be a whole lot of fun, and god knows I need more fun in my life.”

—

“You… did that based on vibes?” It sounded a little too risky for Felix, who liked to think about every aspect of a situation before making a move these days. When your last unchecked big decision ended with you bound to an underground fighting ring until you died or someone decided to let you loose, you tended to second guess your gut. But… maybe other people had better judgment than they did. Maybe they needed to remember that. “If you’re sure, I guess.” At least the lamia hadn’t been seriously hurt.

Still… she was being pretty nonchalant about this whole thing, wasn’t she? “No, they — They have ways of making you do things you don’t want to do.” Would she be immune to that sort of thing? Felix wasn’t really sure. They didn’t know a lot about spellcasters and, despite their current life situation, they weren’t exactly a master of fae, either. “You shouldn’t even be offering me that! That’s — You could get in really big trouble, and neither of us wants that, okay? Not for… fun.”

—

“I did! Now you’re catching up!” Mahuika resisted clapping her hands together because even she was aware that that was probably too much. She was happy though, and weren’t you supposed to live your life in a way that made you happy? Now that she didn’t have her family looking over her shoulder, she could be happy in whatever way best suited her, and that was something that she more than deserved, she figured. “I am sure. You’re so sweet for double-checking, though!”

She crossed her arms. “Okay, and…?” She didn’t care. How much repetition would it take for them to get that? Still, Mahuika did her best to not get all frustrated. Outwardly, at least. That much she could control. Her inner thoughts were her own to do with whatever the heck she wanted. “But I want to have fun.” She pouted. “But fine, fine, I won’t do it with your knowledge. Or like… all the time. ‘Cause that’s lame and apparently dangerous. But FYI, I don’t usually get in trouble. I’m good at getting out of that.”

—

The whole conversation felt like a puzzle, or one of those strategy games Felix had always been bad at. Find this code to open that door, remember the placement of these paintings when you input the colors into the keypad. Felix had no idea what to make of her, of any of it. It was dangerous, what she was doing. It was dangerous, and it could get them in trouble, too, and she didn’t even seem to care. How could he warn someone who didn’t want a warning?

“And you should be careful,” Felix insisted, brow furrowing. “Seriously, you — There are other ways you could have fun. I could help you have fun other ways! Just, um, maybe not like this. I don’t want you to get… hurt or anything like that.” Would the Grit Pit hurt someone who didn’t work for them? How would they handle this situation, if they knew? Felix wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I’m sure you’re good at staying out of trouble! It’s just that, you know, the people who run this place are… dangerous, I think. And you shouldn’t underestimate them.”

—

“They shouldn’t underestimate me.” She replied in turn. Still, their excessive and repetitive warnings tickled something in the way back of her brain. Most people weren’t this desperate to warn people about things, and even though Mahuika totally didn’t care about others (at least most of the time, or at least that was the vibe she went for), she did bite her tongue (literally, not just in the weird metaphorical way). “I’d love you to have fun with me in other ways. But also, seriously, I won’t get hurt! I don’t get hurt.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but she liked to think that she didn’t get hurt, and mindset was half of the work anyhow, wasn’t it?

“I like a bit of danger in my life, and it seems like you could use some of that too.” Each word was delivered kindly (or as kindly as such a phrase’s delivery were possible), but there was something behind what she was saying. “You’re adorable, b-t-w. I knew I chose well.” Mahuika still didn’t have to reveal to them all that she’d been up to, or all the details behind everything. Which, in a whole lot of ways, made everything all the more fun. “I can leave you for now, but we should totally chill again, maybe I can get you to have more fun, huh? And you can try to get me to have “safe” fun, whatever the hell that is.”

—

It was a dangerous mindset to have, this idea that you were invincible. Felix had never had it themself. Even before their mother’s life was so easily snuffed from the world, they’d been all-too-aware of the dangers that lurked for them. Their parents made sure they knew not just about hunters, but about exorcists and mediums, too, about people who might want the power of a balam’s pelt or people who might find them scary enough to kill just because. Invincibility had never been in the cards for Felix. Maybe that was a good thing. “Everybody gets hurt. Just… I don’t want it to be this. For you.”

Felix didn’t need danger. Felix had plenty of danger. This felt like a lot more of it, even with the… was she flirting with them? They turned red, looking down at their feet. “I want you to be careful. Okay? I know — I mean, I can tell careful isn’t really your thing, but just… If we meet up again, will you stay away from here until then? And not, uh, do what you did today? I can help you find other ways to have fun, safer ways, but I need to make sure you don’t get hurt here first. Okay?”

—

“Okay, well, thanks. I know people get hurt, but I’m also really freaking good at avoiding that.” Mostly because she had to be, because if she let herself get hurt, then that would cycle into far too many other things that Mahuika just super totally didn’t want to deal with! So avoidance was the best and the most effective option available.

She fought away the urge to fully clench her fists. They were turning red too, and Mahuika bit her tongue with the side of her teeth to keep from screaming. “Okaaaaaay, fine, I’ll be like, careful or whatever. Well, you’re right, it’s not my thing, but I won’t come here again.” She wasn’t about to promise that she wouldn’t do what she did today again – not because she had any qualms about lying, but mostly because it seemed mostly pointless. “Okie dokes! I’ll get out of your hair then. I’m way craving a veggie burger and cheese fries, so I’ve gotta blast. See you soon, though?” She turned on her heels and blew them a kiss. “I look forward to helping you have real fun.”

#endlessevenings #mahuika: beat yourself up #wickedswriting

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altairattorney · 2 years

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Wolf as a tool

HELLO SEKIROS

I am here to pester you again about how Sekiro makes me cry, brought to you by stray thoughts I had while I was taking a bath yesterday.

I was reminiscing about a conversation I once had with a Tumblr user (still looking for the convo, will @ you as soon as possible) about the role of Isshin in the story. We established back then that Isshin is the other driving force and mastermind alongside Owl, whose influence is more evident but much smaller and with a smaller scope. For one, Isshin is the person who kicks Wolf back into action, but there are many other examples.

While I reminisced, I was being amused by how Isshin unleashed this head empty no thoughts shinobi into the wild and casually let him decimate Ashina’s already struggling army. But that thought froze me in my tracks and turned dark very quickly.

At first glance, Wolf killing everything he meets on the way of Ashina Castle seems surreal and gameplayish, and something the supposed ruler of Ashina would never allow. The problem is, when you think twice about it it makes perfect sense.

What Isshin is really trying to do is to stop Genichiro. He considers Ashina to be as good as dead, and he is repulsed by his increasingly desperate attempts to get at least some form of immortality. With summoning Wolf, Isshin is killing two birds with one stone: he knows that he will stop at nothing to get to Kuro, and on the way will very helpfully eliminate more of Genichiro’s dwindling army.

In other words: even if it is more nuanced than that, Isshin belongs in the number of the characters who are using Wolf as a tool for their own benefit. (Edit: Forgot to add that that is literally how he is perceived on his job, it just has more profound implications for the story.) Just like Owl, Isshin is counting on his blind loyalty and his absolute obedience to do some of the dirty work for him, as collateral.

And that led me to think - what is Kuro doing then?

At first glance, Kuro’s situation might look like it is exactly the same. He made Wolf immortal without his consent, and he is now asking him to do incredibly dangerous things in order to further his own goal. But the thing is, the similarities start to look weaker as soon as you look more into it.

First of all, Kuro is the only character whose aim is deeply altruistic. He wants to erase the Heritage from the face of the world, so that its cycle of pain, illness and death never affects anyone else. More on that soon.

Secondly, Kuro has no better option in any way. He is fragile and alone in the world, unable to perform the terrible tasks that lie in between him and his goal.

But here comes the biggest difference of them all: Kuro is the only character who sees Wolf as a person, not a thing to use to further his own end.

The element that gives us this information beyond a shadow of a doubt is that he feels tremendously guilty about the entire situation. He feels guilty to have made Wolf his oathbound, even despite the fact he would do it again in a heartbeat to save him. He feels guilty about bearing the curse and being its coveted vessel, incapable of defending himself. He feels guilty that Wolf almost died to protect him, and is now caught in an endless immortality loop every time he is hurt.

Above all, though, what he feels guilty about is that Wolf is suffering, will not stop suffering as long as he serves him, and will not stop serving him for any reason.

Kuro is very emotionally intelligent and already knows how Wolf’s endless obedience was beaten into him by his monster of a father. With that knowledge, he knows obedience to his own requests will be no different despite the enormous cost it will come at. And because Kuro loves Wolf very much and sees him as a person, his suffering affects him tremendously. He feels responsible for the way Wolf will continue to hurt himself to help him, and feels defeated because he knows there is no other option.

And even then, with this dynamic playing a big role in the deep tragedy of this story, the game has a way of proving to us that protecting Kuro is Wolf’s active choice.

Aside from what he says to Owl - he will carve his own path, as his master does, and break the Iron Code - Wolf’s very action are pointing to this fact. The most obvious example is the very existence of the Purification ending. The second Wolf overhears Kuro talking about his future death, the path to discussing it with Emma opens up, and it is Wolf’s own active decision to pursue another path that may save Kuro’s life. As I said before, the choice system represents Wolf’s agency, and the very fact Purification becomes an option canonically shows he is able to think for himself beyond discussion.

So, to recap:

When it comes to Wolf, Owl has contempt for a broken tool, Isshin has a playful liking of a very well-oiled tool, and Kuro regrets (the way he sees it) causing a person he loves to suffer. On the other hand, Wolf learns from Kuro to choose for himself, and it’s not hard to see whom he decides to stay loyal to.

#sekiro #sekiro meta

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soft-bellied-tannies · 1 year

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A Hefty Reunion

Read here or on AO3!

As much as they enjoyed their study abroad experience, all three were absolutely ready to be back home together. They had come to an agreement that their relationship was strong and they all had specific interests that could benefit from a semester abroad to support their education.

Taehyung had spent his spring in Italy, studying the world of high fashion and learning more than he could have ever imagined. He missed his boyfriends greatly, but it was worth it when he considered everything he experienced - including his suitcase full of designer clothes.

Hoseok went to Brazil for the semester to learn as many types of Latin dancing as he could. He and Jimin had big dreams of opening a diverse dance studio together and the more they could offer, the more successful they would be. Aside from his new skills, he was also returning to Korea with the most stunning, deep tan that made his skin glow.

Yoongi spent his spring semester in Los Angeles, exploring the western world of music production. He was able to make incredible connections and created more music in those five months than in his entire college career so far. Along with his lengthy contact list to bring back home, Yoongi was also carrying something new - about twenty pounds, maybe twenty-five if his boyfriends had to guess.

Having a petite frame meant the new weight was pretty noticeable when Yoongi exited the backseat of the taxi. Even though his comfortable travel hoodie, his new hefty abdomen could be noticed. If Hoseok noticed, he didn’t say a word as he immediately wrapped up his boyfriend in a tight hug with shrieks of how much he missed him.

Taehyung, on the other hand, had to take a moment to appreciate the sight. His hyung looked good, sexy even, with his more solid build. When Hoseok called out to him, asking if he was alright, Taehyung schooled his features and walked over for his own hug. Nothing was said and the three went upstairs together.

There wasn’t a free moment to address to the topic because their friends had scheduled a welcome-back dinner at Jin and Namjoon’s apartment. The trio got ready quickly, Taehyung taking time to appreciate Yoongi’s wider backside in his jeans before Hoseok was dragging them out the door.

It was a whirlwind for a while when they arrived - greetings, hugs, and maybe even a few tears. As always, Jimin and Taehyung managed to find themselves tucked away in a corner for a little bit to have a private moment.

“So…” Jimin started as he watched his best friend’s eyes track his boyfriend that was helping Jin in the kitchen.

“So?”

“It looks like LA was good to Yoongi-hyung.”

Taehyung pulled his focus away and looked at Jimin with a tense brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin giggled quietly, leaning into Taehyung’s shoulder. “Easy, tiger. He just looks happier and healthier than ever and I think someone likes it…a lot…”

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re talking about,” Taehyung stuttered out, cheeks blushing pink with the implication.

“Hey, it’s totally fine to think your man is hot with a little extra weight, okay? I get it.”

Taehyung scoffed, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “Yeah, okay. There isn’t an ounce of body fat between you and Gguk. You are just trying to make me feel better.”

Jimin shook his head with a suggestive expression toward his boyfriend. “All this muscle means that sometimes, you have to bulk. You know that we are far from vanilla. So, trust me, I get it.”

“I, um, wow…I was not expecting this conversation literally ever. What is happening?”

Jimin burst out laughing, unable to hold it back causing the others to look over at them fondly. He ran his fingers through Taehyung’s hair when the other still looked a little overwhelmed. “Just talk to them, babe. Being honest is the best way to go. Who knows, maybe Yoongi-hyung is really feeling himself and needs a push from you.”

“Thanks, Chim,” Taehyung replied with a kiss on his cheek, grateful for his best friend never judging even the unexpected. Jimin smiled as he got up, asking for updates on their situation before walking over to his boyfriend.

Taehyung watched intently as Jimin wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s middle, looking up at him with a soft smile. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening when Jimin whispered something while pinching the other’s cheek leading to Jungkook grabbing a large handful of Jimin’s ass. He was seeing his best friends in a new light and honestly, felt slightly jealous of their dynamic.

Taehyung needed to talk to his boyfriends as soon as possible.

Hoseok noticed the shift in Taehyung, seeing that their boyfriend was being a little awkward and needed some sort of serious conversation with Jimin. He grew concerned because his mind only sent him in one direction and the end result terrified him. Taehyung was uncomfortable with Yoongi’s weight gain.

Hoseok wasn’t blind - he was very aware that their precious Yoongi-hyung was looking a little chubby and in all honesty, he didn’t mind one bit. What shocked him was the thought of Taehyung being vain enough to place importance on their appearances. Even though he doubted that Taehyung would seriously judge their boyfriend, it was the only assumption he could come up with. Rather than let the issue stew, Hoseok decided it needed to be addressed immediately.

As the trio made it back home, Yoongi was clearly ready to change out of his jeans when both his boyfriends called out to him, asking to talk. He had a feeling that was coming, surprised that neither had addressed his added weight yet. Only two people had actually hinted it at it so far. Jin had, of course, told him that he was happy to see him finally eating well and Jimin, his favorite antagonist, had mentioned that Yoongi must’ve enjoyed the LA food scene.

An unexpected development from dinner, however, was the fact that Yoongi very much enjoyed Jimin’s teasing - feeling a desperate need to ask him to keep going. All he could hope was that his boyfriends didn’t mind his heftier stature. He knew it might be too much to ask for more.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked as he plopped down on the couch, looking at them both expectantly. Based on their expressions, Yoongi assumed it was an intervention about his weight and he honestly was disappointed.

“I…Tae, do you want to go first?” Hoseok prompted, hoping their boyfriend would admit his issue.

Taehyung nodded, wringing his hands anxiously in front of his chest. “Um…well, it’s kind of…I just-”

“Jagiya, you can tell us anything. We won’t judge you,” Yoongi said, cutting Taehyung off and offering support. Their younger boyfriend was rarely anxious so his behavior seemed odd.

With a deep breath, Taehyung just ripped the bandage off. “I think Yoongi-hyung looks hot and I don’t want to be weird about it because you can have whatever kind of body you want, but please don’t make decisions based on what I want because I will love you no matter what. I just think you look good now…like really good with the, um…the weight you, uh…gained…yeah.”

Yoongi and Hoseok both stared at him, slackjawed and wide-eyed. That had certainly not been what they were expecting and their surprised silence was taken as rejection.

“Oh God, I made it weird. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I can stop-”

“Taehyung!” both his boyfriends called out, stopping his spiral.

“What?” Taehyung asked quietly, still nervous to hear what they have to say.

Hoseok took his hand, bringing him to the couch and placing him between himself and Yoongi. “Please do not apologize for telling us how you feel, baby. Also…same.”

Taehyung’s head snapped to Hoseok, brow furrowed in confusion. “Same what?”

“I think Yoongi-hyung looks pretty great too. You always needed better eating habits anyway, babe,” Hoseok said, reaching across Taehyung to pat Yoongi’s stomach.

Yoongi and Taehyung both blushed at his words and the action. A moment of silence passed as the three of them processed the fact that they were all on the same page.

“So, um, what does this look like then?”

Three months had passed since their realization and their next semester was getting ready to start. Their relationship had only gotten stronger as they explored the new aspect. Rules were set and happiness and health were always prioritized.

Yoongi clarified that he never wanted to risk his health or lose control. There was no active gaining or tracking of his weight, but he ate what he wanted and let his boyfriends spoil him. He certainly had put on more weight over the summer, but it was a slow, enjoyable gain.

On their anniversary in June, they tried their first stuffing. They planned everything from a menu for Yoongi’s favorite foods to safe words and aftercare. All three enjoyed it even more than expected, leading to one of the best rounds of sex they had ever had. Yoongi was stuffed to the brim, not once having to lift his own hand to feed himself. Hoseok whispered praises the entire time as he fed him and Taehyung’s large hands massaged his stomach to help him digest. They decided that stuffing would be a special occasion activity after how much they enjoyed it and they were already looking forward to the next one.

His favorite pair of jeans had been a victim of that stuffing, the button never meeting the open loop again. Taehyung stayed on top of his wardrobe, ensuring that he always had something comfortable to wear both professionally and casually. Hoseok was constantly doing mental health checks, making sure all three of them were still in a good place.

It was also decided that Yoongi would occasionally weigh himself, not to keep track of his growth but out of simple curiosity. He admitted to his boyfriends that his weight gain from America was 23 pounds, having checked the day he arrived home. He had only gained three pounds by the time their anniversary came around, but the scale had shown him that he was thirteen pounds heavier that morning when he checked.

Forty pounds gained thus far and Taehyung would be lying if he didn’t get himself off in the shower simply by thinking about that number. Hoseok couldn’t keep his hands off Yoongi’s hips while their hyung prepared breakfast, ignoring the fact that they knew exactly what Taehyung was doing in the bathroom.

Around lunch, Namjoon texted their group chat asking if the group wanted to get together for dinner at his and Jin’s apartment to make plans for his and Jungkook’s birthdays. They headed over in the evening, greeted by their friends and the delicious smells of whatever Jin was cooking. Taehyung was immediately dragged away by Jungkook to discuss an update to their favorite game while Hoseok was pulled into the kitchen to help, leaving Yoongi with Jimin.

Taehyung had admitted recently that Jimin is the one who gave him the push to talk about his preferences with his boyfriends. Yoongi knew that Hoseok had called Jimin that night, expressing his love for their caring dongsaeng who always wanted the best for his friends.

Yoongi wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up, but Jimin always knew how to read his friends. He sensed something was up from the moment Yoongi sat next to him on the couch.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” Jimin asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I just…I need to tell you something, but it’s awkward.”

Jimin placed his hand on Yoongi’s and gave him a gentle smile. “You are okay, right? Tae and Hobi, too?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s nothing bad,” Yoongi replied, soothing the younger’s worry. “I just wanted to say thank you. For, you know, being there for Tae and encouraging him. I just…I really appreciate you, Min-ah.”

Jimin was clearly surprised but welcomed the kind words. They were known for their bickering, but he and Yoongi actually often talked openly when they needed it. “Of course, you are my best friends. I just want you all to be happy.”

“We definitely are happy. I think it’s kind of obvious,” Yoongi joked as he gestured to his stomach, much more confident in addressing his size now.

“Yeah, a little bit, chubs,” Jimin quipped with a teasing pinch to Yoongi’s thigh.

“Yah, you brat. With how much you tease me, I’m starting to think you are into it too.”

Jimin laughed and leaned into Yoongi’s shoulder. He assumed that Taehyung had told them about their little talk, but he must have decided it wasn’t his secret to share. “Are you kidding? You all know that Gguk and I are freaky as hell. If we didn’t genuinely love working out and dancing, we would both probably weigh 300 pounds.”

Yoongi stared at him in shock, not expecting the easy admission. He was never one to judge, but Jimin was a literal fitness instructor and Jungkook worked out for fun so the fact that they even explored that was surprising to him.

Jimin rolled his eyes at his hyung’s expression. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, tubby.”

“Park Jimin!”

#bts feedism #chubby bts #bts weight gain #chubby yoongi #feeder Taehyung #feeder Hoseok #supportive Jimin #soft bellied tannies

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the-meat-machine · 2 years

Text

Drabble for day 4 of -- wait this isn't a drabble at all, what gives?

Uh. Ahem. Fic for day 4 of @hsderseweek: Family Meetup - Mom/Mom. Which is to say, Alpha Rose/Beta Roxy.

Content warning for discussion of alcoholism.

Truth be told, you've never been much for parties. One of the many benefits of being famously reclusive back on your version of Earth was not having to fake your way through the sorts of society affairs that Strider crashed through like a man dressed in a bull suit ironically charging through a china shop.

So when Roxy invites you to a "shindig" for "all the kids and guardians and everyone who went through the game", your first instinct is to say, "Oh hell no."

You don't, of course. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Roxy. You'll simply have to gird your loins and make the best of it. Perhaps even attempt to — shudder — socialize.

Luckily, once you arrive at the party, you're saved from the burden of attempting small talk with all and sundry by Roxy's older counterpart — your own younger self's mother — who accosts you almost immediately to drag you off to talk about "wizzerds". It's almost embarrassing what a relief it is to find yourself at a quiet table on the outskirts of the party with "oh just call me Roxanne, it's not my name but we gotta have some way to tell the Roxys apart right?"

(You're amazed that she's willing to give up her name so easily. You have no intention of relinquishing yours. The other Rose will just have to deal.)

It turns out that "Roxanne" has read your entire oeuvre since the last time you met, which you must admit is rather flattering. She enthuses at length about the characters — evidently she was especially taken with Frigglish — and drops an apparently accidental hint that she not only ships him with Gastrell but has written fanfic about said dalliances, which you instantly resolve to track down and read by any means necessary.

You answer some of her behind-the-scenes questions and politely refrain from correcting her on some of the finer points of the narrative. You could hardly expect a first-time reader to pick up on the parallelism between Zazzerpan's Unimaginable Gallery and Calmasis's tendency to hoard enigmatic artifacts, and Roxanne of course doesn't have the cultural context required to understand all the symbolism that pervades the merfolk uprising.

From there, the conversation eventually turns to Roxanne's profession, which she describes as "oh nothing much, just your typical foxy ectoscientist slash hacker extraordinaire" with a mixture of humility and boastfulness that you can only characterize as "worryingly charming". ("Worrying" because you're not sure you like the psychological implications of the way your heart is starting to flutter over a woman who's so like your own long-distant but much-beloved daughter.)

There's a lull in the conversation after an extended digression on the finer points of feline genetics, during which both of your attention is caught by your own younger counterparts giggling with each other over a board game they're playing with their friends.

"God, they're such incredible girls, aren't they?" she says.

"Indeed," you say, feeling the corners of your lips curve up irresistibly as always at the sight of the daughter you thought you'd never meet. "Truly admirable. We couldn't wish for braver and more compassionate children."

"I know, right?" Roxanne is getting a little choked up. "Fuck, what — what did I do to deserve such a wonderful daughter?"

Something in her tone catches your attention, and when you turn back to her, you're alarmed to see that, far from the tears of joy you expected, her face is screwed up in abject misery and sloppy tears are starting to stream down her face.

Fuck. What are you supposed to do about this?

After a moment of internal panic, you decide that if it was you, you'd want privacy, so after a glance around, you urge her up by the elbow and lead the both of you into an empty room nearby, which appears to be some sort of shrine to Strider's movies. Or perhaps to the younger Strider's comics. You're a bit too preoccupied with Roxanne right now to perform a stylistic analysis to determine which generation of Striders is responsible for this particular artifact-ridden ocular assault.

"So, um. What's going on?" you say. Smooth, Lalonde. Truly people will believe that you're a professional wordsmith with seven award-winning novels under your belt when they hear lines like that come out of your mouth.

Roxanne is too immersed in whatever mental crisis she's going through to pay the slightest bit of attention to your awkwardness, which makes you feel briefly self-absorbed for even worrying about it.

"It's about Rose," she says in a small, miserable voice. "And me. I think — God, you're going to think I'm a monster. Um. I think I might not have been a very good mother. I think maybe I was a pretty shitty one, actually."

"How so?" you ask, even as the certainty settles into your bones that you'd be happier if you never knew the answer. Well, you've never been one to shy from unpleasant truths.

"Ok, so, um. Storytime, I guess. Did you know… for Rosie's tenth birthday, I had such big plans. We were gonna take a sleigh ride into the little town nearby and stop at all these quirky little shops there. I'd have bought her whateeeever she wanted, no matter how freaking weird it was, which it totally woulda been. She had a knack for picking out the freakiest items in the whole damn store, weirdass shit I don't think even the owners knew was on the shelves. One time she even found… well, I'm getting off track. Anyway. When we came home after that, there'da been two huge cakes in the shape of dueling wizards taking up the whole dining room table, with sparklers and shit to represent the magic wands. And I was all on top of planning for that shit. Had the sleigh ride reservations set up, cakes ordered, all that jazz.

"But the night before, I had. A little too much to drink." Roxanne glances at your skeptical expression and winces. "Ok, a lot too much. I got completely shitfaced, actually. Don't even remember most of that night. But when I woke up I was surrounded by broken unicorn figurines for some goddamn reason and the sun was already setting. I'd slept through her whole damn birthday."

You refrain from commenting on the rather obvious symbolic potential of the shattered unicorns.

"'Course I got up and went looking for her, once my head stopped pounding so much," Roxanne continues. "I guess I wanted to — I dunno, apologize? Try to take her on the stupid sleigh ride anyway even though it was already nighttime? But I couldn't find her anywhere.

"What I did find was two cakes in the kitchen. Not the ones I'd ordered, I'd forgotten to pick 'em up from the bakery. Rose must have made these herself. One said 'Happy Birthday Rose' in the most perfect purple calligraphy, with ten unburnt candles in it and one single slice taken out of the corner. And the second one had 'Happy Pushing a Baby Out of Your Vagina Day' written on it in pink frosting, with two tablets of Advil and an Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet next to it."

That… certainly sounds like the sort of thing you would have done, had you been faced with a situation like this at the tender age of ten.

"You'd think that would've been a wakeup call, but nah," Roxanne says. "Actually — god. I was mad at her? I was mad that she made me feel so bad about it when I felt like I'd tried so hard for her and just slipped up a little. How fucked up is that?"

"Pretty fucked up," you concur. Roxanne laugh-sobs.

You won't lie: Roxanne's story makes you sick with a sort of furious envy. She treated her daughter like this, and yet was still granted the privilege of holding her, hearing her voice, watching her grow from a baby to a girl to an astounding young woman. She had her daughter, had thirteen years with her, and she threw those precious years away into the bottomless void of the bottle, even as you would have given anything, anything, for the chance to embrace your own daughter for even a single minute. The injustice of it tears at you.

You want to believe you would never have disappointed Roxy this way, if you'd ever been in a position to disappoint her in any way other than the one way that matters most.

But life is never that neat, is it? You consider your awkwardness when it comes to expressing genuine emotion, your tendency towards passive-aggression. You recall your own struggle with alcohol. You think about how you get so absorbed in your work that even the slightest interruption festers in your mind into a seething resentment.

You'll never know what kind of mother you would have been, if you'd ever been permitted the honor of taking the role on. But it's a near certainty that you wouldn't have been perfect either.

"So," you say, "I assume that this story you've shared, while perhaps notably more dramatic than other occasions, wasn't an isolated incident but rather part of a pattern of behavior that characterized most or all of your daughter's childhood."

Roxanne nods miserably.

"Right," you say, folding your arms. "I won't sugarcoat this: you'll never get those years back. You'll never be able to redo your daughter's tenth birthday party. You'll never find out what bizarre trinkets she'd have picked out at the shops that day. You'll never know what your relationship could have been if you'd been the sort of mother she needed you to be.

"And more importantly, Rose won't get those years back either. She'll always carry the marks of the way you raised her on her soul."

Roxanne sniffs loudly and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. "Fuuuuck. I know you're right, but damn it hurts to hear."

"I'm not trying to hurt you." Are you? You're not even sure, and you're forced to count that as another black mark against the already highly suspect "Rose Lalonde would have been a perfect mother" hypothesis. You sigh and continue. "I'm trying to say… you can't take back what's already happened. But you still have a chance at a future. Rose clearly still wants to build a relationship with you."

"How do you know?" she asks. "What if she's just… bein' polite, and really she doesn't want anything to do with me?"

Your lips quirk up. "Trust me on this. She and I, we're not that polite. If she didn't want you in her life, she would never have invited you back into it in the first place. Besides, it's so obvious in the way she looks at you. She loves you. She wants to get to know you better." You can sympathize. Roxanne Lalonde is proving to be a fascinating, albeit perhaps slightly infuriating, woman. Though one hopes that the other Rose's feelings on the matter are rather more filial than yours are.

"Ok, but… how? Rosie's 16 now, she's a freakin' god, she's been taking care of herself without me for years. What does she even need from me anymore?"

"I — " you say, then pause.

Your instinct is to bluff, to spin up some vaguely-reassuring-sounding psychobabble. But… perhaps this situation calls for some reciprocal emotional vulnerability, as much as you're loath to ever allow that to anyone. You take a deep breath and steel yourself for the exercise of sincerity.

"I admit," you say finally, "I'm rather at a loss there myself. Perhaps it hasn't been obvious given my psychoanalytic bravado, but I'm hardly an expert in navigating the nuances of motherhood either. To be honest, I've been struggling to figure out how to relate to Roxy, too."

"Whaaat?" Roxanne gasps. "No way! You seem like you got it all together. Roxy loves you, what do you got to be worried about?"

"Well. For example. You may notice that my beloved daughter invited me to a party, and yet instead of spending time with her, I've absconded into a Striderian hell-closet with her sister-mom's mom-sister."

"Oh!" Roxanne says with a surprised laugh. "Nah, you're doin' great there, actually. Roxy's not gonna want her mom hovering over her the whole time anyway. No offense! But having parental units hanging around all the time kinda puts a damper on getting your flirt on, you know?"

The thought of your daughter "getting her flirt on" with anyone sets your insides twisting with an anxiety that you have no idea what to do with, even though it's obvious in retrospect that she must have long since started to experiment romantically and perhaps even sexually. Hell, you're the one who carefully composed a "Talk" for her and left it hand-bound and labeled to be read at a developmentally appropriate age. But the thought that she might be putting that knowledge into practice with who-knows-who —

Your alarm must show on your face, because Roxanne laughs and claps a hand on your shoulder. "Ok, I got an idea. Let's make a pact. We'll figure this mom shit out together, ok? And I can be your shoulder to cry on too, if you ever need it. Don't want you thinking it's just me who's gonna be mooching off your words of wisdom all the time. Sound good?"

You huff out a laugh and look into Roxanne's face, tear-streaked but with her lips pulled into a captivatingly hopeful grin. You place your own hand over hers and smile softly back. "It's a deal."

#Derseweek2022 #does this ship even have a tag...#roseroxy #roxyrose #my fic #we have had more than enough strider manpain on this blog. it's time we got some lalonde womanpain going up in here

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nicnacsnonsense · 2 years

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Feel free to answer this publicly. I've been thinking lately since getting my gf to watch ofmd with me, what would have happened if Izzy hadn't stayed at the end of ep 4. Whether Ed couldn't talk him around or maybe if Stede hadn't woken Ed for breakfast when he did. If Izzy left then, without the duel with Stede, without seeing the extent of Ed's shift away from Blackbeard, without getting as pissed off at Stede in general... What else would change in the story do you think? Or would he have come back at some point and put everything back on track for how the season ends re: set up with the British?

Oooo, a very interesting thought experiment.

I think my first question would be, when Izzy threatened to quit, did he really mean it, or is that just something he does on occasion to try to force Ed to do what he wants? Because I think if it were a real threat, then Izzy's pride would be too much to ever let him take it back without Ed reaching out to him and asking him to stay (per canon) or come back (in the scenario where Izzy did leave). Meanwhile, Ed wasn't quite emotionally ready to let Izzy leave at the end of episode 4, but I also think the relationship had fractured enough by that point that Ed wouldn't be willing to actively chase him down to ask him to come back. So if Izzy had really meant the threat and Ed slept through his leaving or whatever, I think that would have been the end of it. No more Izzy and Stede and Ed would have been able to merrily continue along slowly growing closer unless and until something else happened to upset that balance. Chauncey would still be out there hunting them down regardless, and Stede's guilt about how he left his family would still be simmering in the background. Or who's to say they wouldn't have run into Calico Jack by actual coincidence and maybe it still would have ended with Jack getting kicked off the ship and convincing Ed to come with him.

But if Izzy didn't really mean that threat, then that would mean his packing up that dinghy was performative too. A way of getting Ed's attention and being like, oh I feel so bad about what I said that I'm actually going to leave, forcing Ed to immediately forgive him for being an asshole and ask him to stay. The threat was a way of manipulating Ed into doing what Izzy wanted him to, and then "leaving" is a manipulative way of avoiding being held accountable for insulting Ed and threatening to leave. Under those circumstances, if Ed didn't come over to ask Izzy to stay, then I think Izzy would get pissed at Ed for not doing what he was "supposed to" and then ultimately would have pinned the blame on Stede for "doing something to [his] boss's brain" and made deal with Chauncey just like in canon.

But what I really want to know about Izzy leaving in episode 4 is how that would affect episode 6. Izzy plays a big part in making sure the fuckery ends up happening, remember, both by backing Stede in front of Ed and by coming to talk to Stede hen he gets into his little snit. Still, on that front I'm willing to believe Stede would have been able to convince Ed to let them try without Izzy's help and that someone else -- maybe Olu, who appears to not be really involved in the fuckery -- could have given Stede the necessary pep talk. But Izzy is also involved on the other side of things here too, being the one to push Ed to follow through on killing Stede. And without that hanging over Ed's head, putting him in an emotionally tumultuous place where he is already being reminded of killing his dad, I don't know if the Kraken part of the fuckery would have been enough on it's own to trigger Ed like that. Which in turn would mean no bathtub conversation, which definitely could have implications for the closeness of Stede and Ed's relationship, especially in the scenario where Izzy still came back. Would Ed have had the confidence to say "Fuck you, Jack; he's my friend" if Stede hadn't told him such right after Ed confessed to the deepest darkest parts of himself? I don't know. It's an interesting thought.

#ofmd #edward teach #izzy hands #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #asks and answers

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ibrithir-was-here · 2 years

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Fourth chapter of the CorinthiAna story, from Ana's pov where we learn a little more about the world she's from.

Catercorner

This isn't her world.

It's close, yes. Actually the Mortal part, the mundane part, the part that lives in ignorant bliss of the Wider World around it, seems to be almost exactly the same.

That's something at least. She knows how to make her way in the mortal world, how to barter and bribe and sneak and steal to get by, even if she doesn't have her usual contacts. She's been doing the same sort of things since the 1740s, the world has changed so much since then that a literal change of world doesn't shake those skills up too much.

No, it's the Wider World that's throwing her off, and how.

They still have the Hidden Folk here, she's sensed them, come across a few, though she's kept her distance. She has no alliances here, no allegiances to claim her and protect her if she crosses the wrong Gentry.

She honestly never has had much patience with the Courts and their squabbles, never cared for their sanctimonious airs about the Mortal world and how they still managed to mess up mortal lives even though they claimed to be acting as protectors now.

Tell that to the people who got Tithed.

No, the only one in the whole mess who was worth a damn was Mel--if Mel's still even alive that is.

No, she can't think like that, Melora will be alright, she'll be fine. She's Melora Pendragon after all, and she's survived worse.

Mel has to be ok.

She'll find a way back to make sure of it.

Sure, it's been three years now… but that isn't any implication really that her accidental exile is permanent , she's waited longer for things to pan out before when she's been in tough spots.

It would be a heck of a lot easier to wait though if this place had a proper Night .

Oh they have regular old night-time, yes , but nothing changes, the cityscapes don't suddenly have any overlap with their corresponding Nightscape, there are no Watches, no Wardens, no Man in the Moon that she can tell (though honestly she can do without him, the lunatic), they don't even seem to have a Sandman for goodness sakes.

Though…that man she'd met and fought with at the bar…there had been something about him that feels Night-ish to her.

The eye-thing was certainly off-putting enough to remind her of some of the older Children of the Night she's met, those who'd thrived back in the days of the Old Dark, before the Mottled Lord had overthrown Them.

Oh gosh.

She hasn't ended up in some sort of parallel world, catercorner to her own, where their Sandman had failed in the war against the Old Dark, and the Old Dark is still up there, lurking on the Moon, coming down nightly to eat people's eyeballs -- has she?

…that would explain why there was no Man in the Moon, she thinks with a grimace.

At least she can still sink into the shadows when she needs to. Not as well, not as deeply, but enough. It's a skill she's been glad to still have access to, these last three years.

And if she's seriously going to take up her Teeth Guy-- the Teeth Guy's offer (he's not her anything, even if he is the first person, or whatever he is, that she's had a real conversation with since she got here), she'll need all the advantages she can get. That guy fought like something out of a nightmare.

It had been kinda fun actually, she thinks vaguely, as the car she stole and now lives in rattles down another dusty back road, on her way to her next "appointment" with one of these 'Collectors' she's been tracking down.

Not that she's excited about next month. No, next month she'll do her job properly and rid this world of whatever the Teeth Guy is.

It's what she's supposed to do. What she's vowed to do.

Even if it had been nice to sit down and have a drink with someone who 'got it' as he'd said.

She isn't going to let this become a thing.

#my writing #corinthian #CorinthiAna #thanastasia thresher #my ocs #Ana's from my og fantasy world #the same one my Cinderella webcomic will be set in actually #so consider it a sneek peek i guess x)#vampires #sandman #sandman au #sandman fic #sandman netflix #corinthian x oc

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alias-sam · 6 months

Text

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 10. Elecrifying

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 2,440

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

When you made it to the courtyard on Thursday the strange power surge from the night before was all that people were talking about.

"Talk about a light show last night"

"I'll admit it had me a little scared!"

"Man, your building had it too?"

"I'm pretty sure it affected the whole town."

"What could have caused something like that?"

You were just as curious about what happened, but it was put on the back-burner because of Learco's situation. Jaya and you had gotten to school yet decided to sit and talk before going to class. The two of you loitered near a wall in the court yard, and as always Jaya was leading the conversation.

"So, what do you think happened last night?"

"It was probably a power surge or something if I had to guess. I'm not an electrical expert or anything."

"Could it have been a stand?" She asked casually.

"I guess...maybe?" You looked at Jaya curiously. "Why was that your first thought?" It felt unnatural to be talking about stands in a public area.

"Last night you told me stands could do anything! Why not, I don't know, mess with electricity?" Jaya shrugged. Silently, you prayed it was just a power malfunction last night.

"Just because something weird happened doesn't mean it's because of a stand." There was no way yet another user was going to start trouble this soon. The chances had to be astronomical....right? As Jaya was about to ask you something else someone roughly brushed past you, it was hard enough to make you lurch backwards a step or two.

"Watch it." The guy sneered at you, before continuing on his way. You stood in a shocked silence. Was that...Tim!? You weren't expecting to see him today, especially after the rough shape he was in last night. Had you just imagined it? No, the wounds he had on the boardwalk were definitely real. As Tim walked away you saw the glitching aura again.

"I take that back." You told Jaya while keeping your eyes on Tim. "It might have been because of a stand. I'll talk to you later. I need to check on something." You didn't wait for her response as you immediately followed Tim into the school. "Hey! Tim!" You yelled. "Wait up! I wanted to...I don't know.... Check in with you?" Tim stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face you.

"What makes you think I need checking up on?" Tim scowled. Under the intense gaze, you couldn't help but wonder what happened the night before. Was this even the same guy? The Tim you knew would stumble over every other word, and do anything to avoid a confrontation. He wasn't usually this callous.

"You weren't feeling well yesterday." You approached Tim carefully. "You said so yourself." Something was obviously wrong, you just had to be meticulous in figuring out what. "I was wondering what happened? You aren't acting like your normal self." You had a feeling he was a stand user given the freaky light glitching around him, but how were you supposed to tell for sure?

"I...don't know what you're talking about." Tim deflected, starting to walk away. You followed suite.

"What happened to you last night?"

"Nothing. Happened." Tim said through clenched teeth.

"If you tell me what's going on, I might be able to help." You said softly, trying your best to appeal to him.

"I don't need you." Tim shot a glare your way. "I don't need anyone else from now on."

"I'm sorry, what?" The heck was that supposed to mean?

"Forget it." The area around Tim glitched as he walked faster away from you. "Leave me alone." Tim pushed past a group of students and forced others out of his way. Against your better judgment, you decided not to follow him.

.....................................................................

Trying to focus on your classes had slowly become more and more impossible over the course of this week. You were concerned for Tim, and alongside that, you had to figure out how to help Learco. There was too much on your plate for you to do geometry. By the time good ol' biology class rolled around you were too deep in thought to realize Learco was floating next to you. However, when you finally did notice him, you almost jumped out of your seat. You placed a hand on your heart and glared at him. In response, he simply stared back.

While pretending to listen to the lecture you pulled out a piece of paper, quickly jotting down a message.

'A little warning next time? You almost gave me a heart attack.'

"I'm bored." Learco responded.

'I'm in class.' You wrote.

"You weren't paying attention anyways."

'I'm trying to concentrate. What do you want?'

"I just wanted to talk for a little while." Learco looked away sheepishly. "The whole being a ghost thing has been really... isolating." A pang of familiar guilt shot through your chest at seeing the boy's saddened expression.

"Learco-"

"Who ya talking to?" You jumped as Vita took the empty seat next to yours and looked around curiously before setting his wide, unblinking gaze on you. The lecture had ended and now everyone was getting ready to change classes. Somehow you missed that.

"Vita! Hi!" You nervously watched as your project partner took a large carrot out of his bag and just started eating it. "Talking? Me? No! Why? What did you hear?"

"I thought I heard you say 'Learco'. I couldn't help but wonder...were you referring to Learco Martez?" Vita asked, but you were extremely distracted by the way he was sitting. Vita sat at the very edge of his chair, it looked like he would fall off any second. You glanced to the side where Learco was floating, he looked just as panicked as you.

"Y/n don't you dare talk about me with this guy!" Learco yelled at you, but nobody else was even capable of perceiving him, so it was okay.

"Yes." You answered slowly. Learco rolled his eyes. Honestly you were curious about Learco's reputation. Before your interaction in the alley, you had never seen him before. You were surprised to hear you went to the same school. "Do you know him?"

"Not personally." Vita stared directly into your eyes with his wide unblinking gaze, he took another slow bite out of his carrot. "We have some classes together." Vita quickly glanced around the room before leaning in closer to you. "Between you and me," Vita spoke in a hushed tone. "I think the guy's got some serious anger issues."

"I do not!" Learco gaped and childishly shook his head. Of course, nobody else could hear him, but you really hoped Learco would stop being so loud. Vita's eyes lit up as he continued talking, a mischievous smile braking out across his face.

"I heard he's part of a gang." Vita looked you up and down before sitting back. "Then again I heard you were part of a gang too so maybe my sources are a little shaky." You rolled your eyes at the mention of the dumb rumor. After a second you started realizing something, and it was the last thing you would have expected out of Vita.

"I.... didn't peg you for the gossiping type." You admitted, starting to wonder if Vita's supposed creepiness was all in your head.

"Everyone around here does it." Vita shrugged. "Hard not to join in." You were struck by an idea, you didn't like it, but maybe it could help.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about what Tim Buggles has been going through recently, would you?" Vita seemed to think for a moment before answering.

"The most I know is he's even more of a crazed loner than you." He paused for another moment. "I don't think anybody really talks about him. Didn't he flake on class again today?" You curiously looked around the room, surprised to see Tim was nowhere to be found. When you turned back to Vita you found he was still staring at you. At this point it felt like he was looking inside you rather than at you. Vita suddenly smiled, it was probably meant to be casual, but came off incredibly eerie. "That aside, there is one little whisper on the winds I wanted to ask you to confirm."

"If you're about to ask if I'm the one who trashed the front office and security room, I'll just go ahead deny that." You sighed in unmasked irritation.

"I did hear about that, but you aren't daring enough for that." Vita laughed lightly. "I was going to ask if you and Lennia Heart are really dating?"

"Lennia who?" You asked, puzzled.

"What?!" Learco looked like you had somehow offended him. "Are you serious?!"

"You don't know her?" Vita asked, not being able to perceive Learco's freak out.

"She's the student council Vice President!" Learco was yelling directly in your face, you were actively ignoring the him at this point.

"Lennia Heart?" You confirmed the name, Vita nodded. "I guess I've heard the name, but I don't keep up with school politics or anything. What about her?"

"Interesting.... Word on the street is she's fallen head over heels for you." Vita laughed; it was cut off by a cough as he choked on a piece of the carrot he was eating. Just like that your little conversation with Vita was cut off by the bell. You smiled and waved to Vita as you left, he looked at you confused before stiffly waving back.

"Eugh!" Learco visibly shivered while floating next to you. "I really hate that guy. He freaks me out."

"I don't think he was that bad." You shrugged. "Maybe he's just misunderstood."

"Please," Learco scoffed. "I heard he hisses at people who piss him off."

"Now looks who's the gossip." You teased.

"All I'm saying is you shouldn't be giving that creep a chance to steal your fingernails or try to gift you his."

"I'm giving you a chance, aren't I?" You smirked, Learco growled in response. The metallic clang of something hitting a locker drew your attention down the hall behind you. One of the football players was holding Tim by the collar of his shirt. Both looked ready to go at it. A ring of students was already starting to form around the two. You glanced up and down the hallway.

"Of course, there isn't a teacher in sight." You muttered.

"This should be interesting..." Learco crossed his arms and watched the argument unfold. "Get him Jacob!" Learco yelled alongside the chanting crowd.

"What's your problem four eyes!?" The football player seethed, but it was nothing in comparison to Tim who looked nothing short of livid.

"I'll tell you my problem! You've treated me like shit every day this entire year! I'm sick of it!" Tim threw a punch at the larger guy. The unexpected attack forcing the jock to let go of him.

A roar of cheers and chants erupted from the crowd. You watched the scene in astonishment, simultaneously impressed and disgusted by the formation of such a mob mentality. Several people pushed past you to try and see what was going on. Meanwhile you were deciding whether or not it was your place to intervene. Due to everyone around wanting to catch a glimpse you couldn't see much of what was going on. Learco must have floated to the front of the crowd amongst the chaos because he wasn't next to you anymore. Tim tripped the jock, a sickening crack reaching your ears when he hit the ground.

Tim was just about to throw another punch, but you managed to push past the mass of spectators. You grabbed Tim's wrist mid swing, stopping him from beating the jock again.

"What are you doing?" You yelled over the chorus of chanting from the students around you.

"Let me go!" Tim struggled against your grip but you wouldn't loosen up even slightly. The glitching aura surrounded Tim.

"No!" You said sternly. "I cant let you do this." As Tim tried to wrench out of your grasp you felt something wrap around your wrist.

"Y/n look out!" Learco yelled. You didn't have the time to react as every muscle in your body went stiff. Before you could process anything, you started to faint. Your head roughly hit the ground; the noise of the surrounding crowd quickly fading away along with your consciousness.

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selenafreshfriendkidoaf · 1 year

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Spiritual Meaning of Green

Profound Implications Of Green Whether you love or disdain green, the variety can offer critical profound implications. Whenever embraced, the variety can assist you with working on your life and the existences of everyone around you. Here are the conceivable otherworldly ramifications of green:

Spiritual Meaning of Green

1. You Want To Orchestrate Your Life So frequently, we get consumed with every one of the checks we want in our little boxes to say that we had a fruitful day. Despite the fact that nothing bad can be said about trying sincerely and being driven, it incurs significant damage. In this manner, assuming you notice that green is by all accounts present like never before previously, it very well may be the universe letting you know that you really want to track down concordance in your life.

On the off chance that you feel that your life isn't fit, think about these tips:

Set aside a few minutes for yourself Taking care of oneself is a fundamental piece of accomplishing profound prosperity, yet it is frequently disregarded. Focus on it to set out a couple of moments daily for yourself. What you do during that time depends on you. Be that as it may, center around what you appreciate, and eliminate all interruptions.

Take at the times Despite the fact that innovation has worked on our lives in immense ways, continuously having an electronic gadget in our grasp makes it more testing to experience the significant minutes. So if something phenomenal occurs around you, take a stab at putting your telephone down, and partake in the occasion.

Pick you So frequently, we just do what we feel will fulfill others. Be that as it may, we matter, as well. By continuously putting yourself second, you probably won't feel appreciated. Sense of pride and appreciation are fundamental for the most common way of tracking down obvious agreement.

These tips can assist you with your excursion of tracking down obvious concordance.

2. Another Expert Start Green can likewise infer what is happening is going to change. Seeing green around you could imply that you are going to begin a novel, new thing in your expert life. It is energizing but then, unnerving. Assuming you are apprehensive about changes at work, the following are a couple of tips that could make embracing your fresh start simpler:

Be adaptable and positive At the point when our position changes at work, it frequently implies that we will be supposed to do unexpected things in comparison to we are utilized to. For this situation, it is so essential to be positive and adaptable. This will make your progress period much smoother.

Center around the master plan As you become accustomed to a better approach for things, it is smarter to zero in on the outcome when things are troublesome. Nonetheless, being hauled somewhere around how intense things are presently won't be really great for your expert future.

These tips could make it simpler for you to adjust to changes in the working environment.

3. You Really want To Deal with Your Close to home Prosperity Green is frequently viewed just like a sincerely charged variety. Accordingly, seeing green could suggest that your feelings are not so steady as you'd like them to be. Overlooking your sentiments can be extremely unfavorable to your wellbeing and generally speaking bliss.

In the event that you are don't know how to further develop your profound prosperity, attempt these tips:

Embrace your sentiments Many individuals carry on with life declining to recognize their sentiments. Nonetheless, keeping your feelings contained isn't great. Make it a point to embrace your sentiments, paying little heed to what they may be. Converse with those you trust about your sentiments, or keep a diary. Moreover, think about a specialist in the event that discussing your feelings is exceptionally difficult.

Watch out for your wellbeing Being dynamic is one of the most mind-blowing ways of further developing your profound prosperity. Assuming you work-out routinely, you will feel more joyful and more certain. An even eating routine likewise helps fundamentally.

Eliminate negative behavior patterns Nobody is great. Subsequently, we as a whole have vices. Notwithstanding, when these vices impact our profound prosperity, we really want to limit them.

Accomplish something you appreciate At the point when we do exercises that we appreciate, we feel invigorated, cheerful, and intentional. Hence, assuming you enjoy a side interest or expertise that you love, make certain to make time to get it done.

These tips could make it simpler for you to help your profound prosperity.

4. You Want To Zero in On The Veritable Nation Throughout everyday life Green is viewed similar to an extremely honest variety. Subsequently, being encircled by green should have been visible as a suggestion to remain faithful to the individuals who are generally faithful to us. In any case, sadly, not every person who runs into we ways are our actual companions. Unfortunately, we get tricked by ingenuine individuals occasionally. This can put us in a horrible mood, connections, and profound prosperity.

On the off chance that you suspect that somebody in your life probably won't be a certified companion, pose yourself these inquiries:

Will the individual be really glad for me on the off chance that something great happened to me today? Does the individual at any point attempt to make a wedge between my friends and family and me? Has the individual at any point kept me away from progressing in my expert life? On the off chance that I wanted somebody today, could the individual appear? Is the individual a positive impact who urges me to carry on with my best life? These inquiries could make it simpler to reveal some insight into individuals around you.

5. You Are Prepared To Improve Your Abilities Green is as often as possible related with development; all things considered, plants continue to develop around us. So it is just normal that we interface the variety to development. On the off chance that you notice a great deal of green around you, you ought to think about chipping away at your abilities. It very well may be the universe's method for letting you know that you can be a great deal more since you are capable.

Assuming you concur that the opportunity has arrived to improve your abilities, yet you are uncertain of how to go about it, you can think about these tips:

Make a move

The most effective way to help your abilities is to pick an expertise you might want to improve. Then, at that point, sign up for classes, or move toward somebody who can go about as a guide.

Try not to be timid to chip away at feeble abilities As we develop into grown-ups, we become significantly more mindful than when we were kids. This is appalling since it frequently keeps us down. So in the event that you have an expertise that you feel areas of strength for isn't might want to improve, recall that you don't have anything to demonstrate to anybody other than yourself.

Embrace difficulties One of the most mind-blowing ways of helping your certainty and abilities is to let yourself know that you won't withdraw from a test. Being a determined worker and declining to surrender are characteristics that will make you go the distance, no matter what your abilities.

Gain from everyone around you In the event that you are sufficiently lucky to blend in with various individuals everyday, find opportunity to study them and what abilities they have. You may be astonished to discover that somebody you see consistently is talented at something you have been passing on to learn.

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years

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A Beauty Beyond Compare | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: She performs under the name Jolene. He became infatuated with Jolene. Is he interested in the alter ego or the woman behind it? (Y/N) finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking, mentions of drugs, implications of sexual situations (PG-13 rated)

Word Count: 4156

A/N: I’m not gonna lie, I had no clue to start with this one. It’s based off of the song ‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton, which is one that I love and I think totally fits, but I couldn’t think of a believable scenario that wouldn’t have been corny. I am so very thankful that @look-at-the-soul agreed to helping me with the plot of this because I think it’s one of my favs that I’ve written so far. I hope you enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories like this one!

Taking one last look in the mirror to make sure she was ready, (Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She thought this would get easier the more she did it, but the lead up to the start of the show always got her anxious. The second she'd step on the stage though, it became a totally different story.

"We need you for the stage now, Jolene," a man working behind the scenes announced as he entered her dressing room. (Y/N) nodded and took another breath, making sure the auburn-colored wig was situated correctly on her head. She'd hate for any of the people in the audience to see her true hair color.

She then turned to the stagehand and nodded her head, a smile gracing her face as she walked to the door of her dressing room. In the short walk through the hallway to the stage, she finished the final parts of her transformation.

"Please welcome to the stage, Jolene!" the announcer's voice came through the speakers as she stepped past the curtains to the roar of applause.

She had to admit that she was surprised by the reaction. The Eden Club was a place that she'd never performed at before. So to hear this much applause overwhelmed her slightly. She couldn't show it though. She wasn't (Y/N) at the moment. She was Jolene. And Jolene never got overwhelmed.

"Good evening. Thanks so much for coming tonight. I hope you're ready for a night of great entertainment," she greeted the crowd, smiling as she looked out at the many faces that were eagerly waiting for her set to start. She then sent a smile and a nod to the pianist that was accompanying her, signaling for the first song to begin. Tonight was going to be a good show. She could already feel it.

Tommy Shelby walked into the Eden Club with the intent of finding his brother. He barely acknowledged the bouncer as he cut past the line, removing the peaked cap from atop his head as he strode over to the bar. He figured he'd get a whiskey in hopes that it would calm him down a bit. He didn't want to go into his conversation with Arthur heated, although he thought that his older brother should have his head knocked around a little.

He nodded to the barman and threw some coins on the counter before he tipped back his glass, drinking half of the liquor in one go. He then fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and struck a match to light one, blowing out the smoke before he went to grab his glass again. He finished the rest of his whiskey and waved off the barman when he tried to pour another, feeling ready now to talk business with the man who was supposed to be making a profit for the Shelby Company Ltd. here in London. Instead, he was blowing a big portion of the club's earnings on snow amongst other vices. Tommy wasn't too happy about that.

The sweetest voice stopped him in his tracks before he was able to leave the bar. He took another drag of his cigarette before he turned to look towards the stage. His eyes immediately fell on the voice's owner, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look away. She was beautiful. Her auburn hair flowed naturally, her outfit complimented her figure perfectly, and her voice had to be that of an angel. If he was any other man, he swore he'd 've died and went to heaven. Tommy stood in a sort of a trance as he listened to her sing. She looked so confident up on stage. No amount of whistles and yelled praises fazed her. She just kept singing. And the more she sang, the more Tommy became enamored with her.

It wasn't until her song finished to the sound of the crowd applauding that he snapped out of the dream-like state that he was in. He blinked a few times before looking down at the bar, the forgotten cigarette nearly burning out between his fingers. So he snuffed it in the ashtray nearby before he stepped away from the bar with the intent to go back to where the club's offices were. But he couldn't leave the main area without taking one last look at the woman on stage. And when he did so, she was looking right in his direction. It was only for a brief second, but he could have sworn that their eyes locked. And in that second, he knew that he needed to know more about this woman.

Breaking his gaze, he turned back to the mission he was on and headed off to find Arthur's office. Upon opening the door, he found Arthur slouched in the chair behind his desk with a half-drank bottle of booze in front of him. "For fuck's sake, Arthur!" he called to his brother, who jumped at the sound of his name being shouted out.

"Fuck, Tom...what'd ya want?" he groaned as he stretched his limbs before rubbing a hand over his face. This was not the way he preferred to be woken up.

"What do I want?..." Tommy trailed off with a scoff, shaking his head as he looked around, "I want to know where all of our fuckin' earnings from this club are going, Arthur. What the fuck is going on?" he asked, his eyes wide and expression serious.

"I'm putting the money back into the business. That's what you told me to do, isn't it?" the sitting man responded, his eyebrows raised as he tried to get on his brother's level. Talk about going from zero to one hundred without any warning.

"Back into the business, eh? Since when has this business had any fucking need for snow? Huh?!" Tommy couldn't help but raise his voice now. It really frustrated him when he didn't get straightforward answers, especially when those answers were coming from his brothers.

"'S the only thing that clears me head out, Tom," Arthur mumbled, looking at his lap like a guilty child.

"I told you grand openings and race days only. How am I supposed to trust you here in London if you can't go a day clean from it?" Tommy asked, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Arthur only shook his head as he kept his gaze low. He had no response for his brother. "You get your fucking act together, or it will be John's turn here, you hear me?"

"Yes, Tom," Arthur's defeated response came the second after Tommy finished speaking.

"Good," Tommy sighed, running a hand over his face before he pursed his lips and looked off at the far wall. "You have a singer performing here tonight. What's her name?" he decided to inquire about the woman he'd just seen on stage.

"Her name's Jolene. Buddy of mine told me about her. She's bloody good, isn't she?" the oldest of the two responded, his eyes finally leaving the floorboards as a hint of a grin played on his lips.

"She's not bad," Tommy, being Tommy, didn't give his full review, instead only uttering a few words of approval.

"She's a good look too, ain't she?" the grin was full on the other man's face now. Tommy couldn't help but scoff at his brother's words, though he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face. He certainly wasn't going to disagree with his brother...not after what he'd just seen out on that stage. "Don't go gettin' any ideas now, Tom...I need her here because she seems to be bringing in a decent crowd," Arthur warned before anything else could be said.

"Yeah, and you need the decent crowd to get the money of ours that you've pissed away back," the business talk was back as Tommy sent the man sitting behind the desk a look. Arthur only held his hands up in defense before he assured him that he'd get what was lost back in a short amount of time.

"You wanna stay? Still got some whiskey left," Arthur suggested then, holding the bottle up before he took a drink from it.

Tommy shook his head before responding verbally, "no. I've got some other business to attend to," he declined the offer.

"Alright, brother," Arthur nodded, taking his word.

"Work on getting that money back," Tommy stated, pointing in Arthur’s direction to emphasize his words.

"I will," Arthur said in a firm tone before he nodded his head once. Tommy nodded back, their silent way of ending the conversation before he left the office and continued on down the hall.

From the sounds of it, the woman he now knew was named Jolene was still on stage, so he moved to its side and continued to watch her set. Again, he got caught in a trance that was created by her beauty and enthralling voice. He couldn't take his eyes from her as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned up against one of the support beams to get comfortable. He wasn't going to be leaving until her set was finished.

After performing a few more songs, (Y/N) was done for the night. Her voice was just about spent, but it still didn't stop her from giving the crowd the encore that they were cheering for. Hearing her name...well, Jolene...being cheered back at her never got old, no matter how much it happened. The pianist finished up the final song and she took a bow, smiling at the crowd before she exited through the curtains.

She accepted the kind words from those working behind the scenes as she made her way back to her dressing room. She was more than ready to take her wig and makeup off and get back into her more comfortable clothes for the night.

What she wasn't expecting was to see a man standing next to the door of her dressing room. She slowed her step as she approached him cautiously. As she got closer she saw his nicely tailored suit and strong facial features. He had a rather severe haircut, but was pulling it off nicely. What struck her most, though, was his deep, blue eyes.

"Wonderful performance tonight," he spoke, his voice low as she noticed a slight smile on his features.

"Thank you," she sent him a genuine smile in response, "you are?" she asked then.

"The owner of this club," he gave a vague response.

"Arthur Shelby, is it?" she tried to remember the name that her manager had told her.

"Me brother. Name's Thomas Shelby," he formally introduced himself, his hand extended towards her. "My company owns the club. He's just in charge of it," he gave more of an explanation as they shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby. This is a lovely place you've got here," she complimented him with a smile.

"Thank you, and please, call me Tommy," he told her and she nodded, making a mental note of it. "You've a lovely voice," he gave her a compliment of his own.

(Y/N)'s cheeks heated up at his statement, but she tried to hide it. "Thank you," was all she was able to say as she was ultimately unable to stop the giddiness from rising within her.

Much to her luck, Tommy was able to keep the conversation going. "You have a last name, Jolene?" he asked, his eyebrows raised slightly in intrigue.

"Oh, my name's not actually Jolene at all,” she confessed to him, “it’s actually (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is my name.”

“Oh, well it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N),” he was a bit taken back by her confession, but it didn’t deter him from her. Loads of people had stage names, right?

“It’s nice meeting you too, Tommy,” she smiled up at him, “I should probably get changed out of this outfit for the night,” she said then as she started inching towards the dressing room door.

“Of course,” Tommy nodded as he turned slightly to still be facing her, “will you be performing here any more in the near future?” he asked before she entered her room.

“You’re the owner of this club. You should know that better than me,” she responded with a slight laugh and a smile.

Tommy chuckled at her response. “Yeah, I guess I should,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck before he let her slip into her dressing room and out of his sight for the night.

(Y/N), or Jolene as she was referred to on stage, quickly became a regular at the Eden Club. She brought in a great crowd, and people couldn’t seem to get enough of her music.

Tommy made sure that he was in attendance every night that she was on stage. Sometimes he’d manage to find her on her way back to her dressing room and chat with her, but most times, he’d sit in the back of the room and listen to her sing. He couldn’t believe how fast he’d become besotted with this woman. The grip that she and her beautiful voice held on him was one like no other woman was capable of. It was truly what brought him back each night. He also enjoyed getting to talk to her the few times that he did. He found her smile to be infectious and her beauty to be even more evident up close.

Tonight, however, (Y/N) was stressed. Her manager had to leave just before she was due to go on, which meant she wouldn’t have a ride home after the show was finished. Sure, she lived within walking distance, but who ever likes to walk?

Soon enough, the show came to a close, and (Y/N) stepped off the stage and into a pit of dread. It was almost like she didn’t want to leave the venue. A bit of light got thrown into her situation when she noticed Tommy standing by her door.

“Wonderful show, (Y/N),” he started with his usual greeting, a smile on his face as she stopped in front of her.

“Thanks, Tommy,” she tried to muster up a smile, but her stresses were overtaking her.

Tommy noticed this right away. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“My manager had to leave, which means I’ll be walking home tonight,” she explained her predicament. Tommy pursed his lips at her statement. The thought of her walking, alone, in the city of London at night didn’t sit well with him. “I mean, it’s not the end of the world...I just really hate walking.”

“What if I walk you home?” he offered then, “you’d still be walking, but at least you’ll have someone with you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tommy,” she brushed his suggestion off at first.

“I wouldn’t mind, (Y/N), really,” he pushed for her to accept, “you walking alone doesn’t sit well with me.”

(Y/N) thought about it for a moment. “If you insist...” she trailed off then, a smile forming on her lips.

“I insist,” he nodded.

“Let me just grab some things and we can head out,” she told him, going into the dressing room to quickly grab her bags and make sure that things were tidy. She was thankful that the dress she chose to wear on stage that night was one of the more breathable ones. One that she didn’t mind walking home in. “I’m ready,” she informed him and he nodded before leading the way back down the hall and to the club’s main doors.

They talked as they walked. Tommy seemed to be really intrigued by how she got started with music, so she told him the story of how she’d got chosen for a school production by chance and it just kind of stuck from there. (Y/N) thought it was a rather boring story, but he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from her. She wondered if it was because of her appearance.

“This is mine,” she said as they got to the main entrance of the apartment building that she resided in. She figured that she’d stop him here because she didn’t want to trouble him with climbing the three flights of stairs up to her actual apartment.

“It was lovely getting to know more about you tonight,” Tommy said as he turned so that he was facing her. She immediately noticed how close he was to her. But she didn’t shy away from him. Maybe her still being dressed as Jolene gave her more confidence in the moment.

“Next time you’ll have to tell me more about yourself,” she responded with a smile. She most certainly had more confidence than she usually would. She even dared to take a step closer to him.

“There’ll be a next time?” Tommy asked her, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“I’d like there to be,” she smiled up at him, but this smile wasn’t just a friendly one.

Tommy caught this subtle hint, and it made that same type of smile form on his face as well. “I’d like there to be, too,” he agreed with her as he filled in the gap, dropping his hands to rest against her hips as he pressed his lips to hers.

(Y/N) was certainly shocked by the sudden kiss, but she didn’t hesitate in returning it. From the moment she met Tommy Shelby, she��d been attracted to him. Her hands came up to hook behind his neck as their kiss deepened, their tongues meshing as they danced seamlessly with each other. She was the first to pull away and take a few deep breaths to steady herself.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asked her after a few seconds that were filled solely with panted breaths.

“Yeah,” she answered, gazing up at him through her eyelashes as she ran her hands from behind his neck to caress his cheeks. He squeezed her hips as she pulled his mouth down to match hers again. Their kiss was shorter this time, but it still had the same dizzying effect on (Y/N) as the first did.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Tommy said as they finally released their holds on each other.

“Goodnight, Tommy,” she repeated the farewell before they went their separate ways.

(Y/N) was finally able to remove the auburn colored wig from her head once she got into her apartment. She breathed a sigh of relief as she let her natural (y/h/c) locks fall. But she noticed something as she sat at her vanity and started to take her stage makeup off. Thomas Shelby had only seen Jolene. Each time that spoke, every time she performed, and even now when they kissed, (Y/N) wasn’t showing him her true self. And as she continued with taking off her makeup, she started to wonder whether or not Tommy was solely with her because of the way that she looked. If he was with her because she was Jolene.

Like before, Tommy attended every performance that (Y/N) held at the Eden Club. Unlike before, however, he made sure to meet her after every show. The first time, they managed to make it back to her apartment before the clothes came off and the passions rose, but every time after that, they didn’t even make it out of her dressing room.

(Y/N) couldn’t complain though. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. That was very painfully obvious. They would always meet each other right after the show though, which meant that (Y/N) was still dressed as Jolene. And as they got deeper and deeper into this relationship, (Y/N) started to become rather nervous. She had no clue how she’d managed to keep up the act this long, but she knew that it had to fall off the rails sooner or later. She was hoping, even praying at this point, that Tommy didn’t lose interest in her completely the second he saw who she really was. She was hoping that Jolene wouldn’t take her man, and that her true self would stand a chance.

She had another show tonight at the Eden Club. The usual excitement was coursing through her body as she moved around her dressing room in the comfortable robe that she wore before every performance. She wasn’t quite sure if she was excited more for the show itself or for what was to come after. Either way, she was buzzing as she sat at the vanity in the room and started to get her makeup sorted out.

She wasn’t thinking anything of it when she heard a knock on the door. She called for whoever it was to come in before she continued her makeup. Her heart just about jumped into her throat as she saw who entered the room through the mirror. “Fuck, Tommy...no. You’re not supposed to be here,” she scrambled with what she was doing, reaching over desperately for the auburn wig that was sitting just out of her reach as panic set in.

“Woah, woah, (Y/N)...what’s the matter?” Tommy confusedly set the roses he had with him down on the table by the door before he cautiously approached her while she continued to frantically move around.

“You’re not supposed to see me like this,,” she gasped, almost flinching as he got close to her before she let him spin her to face him when his hand settled on her arm.

“Like what, love?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows. He didn’t understand what she was getting at.

“Like this, Tommy,” she sighed in defeat as she motioned to her rather drab robe, (y/h/c) hair, and makeup-less face.

“There’s something different?” he somehow still seemed confused as his eyes stayed locked with hers. (Y/N) almost wanted to scoff at him. Was he playing some sort of sick joke?

“I’m not Jolene, Tommy. I’m not dressed up in my stage outfit, I don’t have any makeup on, and this is my normal hair,” she pointed out the differences that she thought were so obvious.

“And yet your beauty is still beyond compare,” he responded. This time she did outwardly react to his words. A gasp left her lips as she lightly smacked his chest before leaving her hand resting against his suit jacket. It wasn’t the best response to what he’d just said, but it was all that she could think of doing.

“Please don’t just say that to spare my feelings. I know that you were only intrigued by me because of Jolene. Everyone loves her personality and the way she looks,” she tried to get him to drop the act, but he only shook his head at her words.

“I noticed the difference, (Y/N). Between how you acted on stage and how you acted when we talked...when we were alone together. Yeah, you’re beautiful with the wig on and all of that shit on your face, but I think I’m in fucking love with the woman that I get to be with after the curtain falls. I know you, and I want to be with you,” he admitted to her, a slight chuckle escaping his lips because this all felt surreal to him. Was he really telling her that he loved her?

“Tommy...” she breathed, not knowing what else to say. “Tommy, really?” she asked then as she looked into his eyes.

“Yes, really,” he affirmed while nodding his head. Within seconds, (Y/N) was standing slightly on her toes so that she could press her lips to his. She gripped onto his suit jacket as his hands came up to cup her cheeks. All of the words she didn’t know how to say were so clearly conveyed in her actions.

They pulled away short after and (Y/N) searched his eyes for a second before a smile formed on her face, “I think I’m in love with you, too, Tommy,” she breathed, an immense feeling of giddiness bubbling up inside of her.

“That’s good to hear, because you’re too fucking special to me for me to let you go now,” he told her, kissing her once more then.

Tommy stayed in (Y/N)’s dressing room as she turned herself into Jolene, but not after he showed her exactly what he meant when he said that he wanted to be with her.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle into the crook of his neck as the sound of someone banging on the door and telling her that she needed to go on stage shortly persisted outside. She paid no attention, and instead she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and basked in the love that he was showing her.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @the-anxious-youth @magicalxdaydream @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing

MASTERLIST

Listen to the song here:

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peakyxtommy #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Spotify

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.”

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing.

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man.

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding.

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner.

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip.

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Note

What about a mix of two prompts?

“i've never been kissed before so you volunteer but i decline, we're best friends and it would be weird, but a couple hours later i lay awake in my bed and i can't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you and suddenly i regret what i said”

and

“two characters look at each other. silence. then. BOOM BANG LIPS CRASHING CAN'T RESIST YOU ANYMORE BAM BOOM THERE'S A WALL LET'S PIN YOU AGAINST IT”

of Din Drjarin/f!reader?

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I love this combination so much! Hope you enjoy this 💖 And for the others who made requests, they're in the works!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: alcohol consumption, spice

You and Mando were sitting in your usual evening position—back-to-back in the middle of the hull—so he could lift his helmet just enough to eat. You’d finished dinner a while ago, and now you were passing a flask of whiskey back and forth over your shoulders. The last few hunts had been long and hard, but the carbonite chamber was now at capacity, so you were taking a night off before returning to Nevarro.

As the flask got lighter and the sky visible through the open ramp faded from a dusky twilight to a velvety black, you inched closer together until you were fully leaned against one another. He was fairly comfortable as a backrest considering the amount of metal and weaponry strapped to his body.

Your conversation had been skirting dangerous territory for a while now—a place you’d been working towards for months if you were being honest. You weren’t supposed to be doing this though: the easy friendship, the light teasing, and the casual intimacy of spending weeks together in a confined space were supposed to stop there... not progress into anything more. You were hunting partners—that was it.

Yet, here you were telling him about your first kiss.

“What about you, Mando? I mean... is kissing even allowed for Mandalorians?”

You reached back to pass him the flask. He took a pull and then—in his unmodulated voice, which was always slightly distracting—said, "Mandalorians touch the foreheads of their helmets together... it's called a Keldabe kiss.”

“That’s very sweet and all, but what about actual kissing? Is that allowed? Or are you only allowed to bonk your metal heads together?”

He scoffed and tilted his helmet back to lightly knock against the back of your head. You laughed and knocked him back.

(That only counts as a Mandalorian kiss if you’re facing each other... right?)

“So?”

“Yes, it’s allowed. If you find someone you trust, there are options... blindfolds, dark rooms... eventually, marriage.”

You ignored the way your heart dropped a little more at each of those options. Instead, you pressed him again: “Okay, so... what was your first kiss like?”

“I don’t have a good story like you do.”

You nudged his side with your elbow. “Oh come on, just tell me! I told you mine, so you have to tell me yours. That’s how the game works.”

You heard him exhale and take another long pull from the flask. He passed it back to you over his shoulder. “Isn’t it my turn to ask a question though?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together. Honestly, you’d lost track of whose turn it was at this point, but he’d answered every other random question you’d thrown at him, even the intrusive one about the craziest places he’d had sex. He’d even thrown you some bold curveballs. But he didn’t want to tell you about his first kiss?

It hit you all at once.

“You’ve never kissed anyone.” You blurted the thought before remembering to pass it through your usual verbal filter.

“No, I haven’t,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” was all you can think to say. You took a sip, and the whiskey burned slightly as it went down your throat. You reached back to hand it over again.

His gloved fingers brushed yours when he took it from you. “I never trusted anyone enough in the past.”

In the past.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to decide if that wording was intentional.

...he was sitting here, leaned against you, lifting his helmet in your presence, in the present…

That had to mean something.

You couldn’t help but ask the question that seared through your mind, “Do you trust me?”

He let a pause stretch out between you, laden with the implication of your question, and shifted slightly against your back. “Yes.”

Your heart rate kicked up. There was so much potential in that yes that you couldn’t help but push forward.

“I would kiss you.”

It came out sounding like an offer, but you really meant it as a want. You wanted to kiss him. You’d held that truth for a while now—months probably—keeping it close to your chest, knowing that it would likely live there forever. There was no room for attachment in your utilitarian partnership, or in his strict Creed and your nomadic existence. Kissing him was an unrealistic daydream, a passing thought you regularly ignored.

Though... it was harder to ignore when he let his gloved hand linger on your waist, or threw himself into the line of fire to protect you, or wordlessly accepted joint commissions from Karga as if your partnership was implicit. He’d been doing all those things more and more often.

And now, your carefully guarded truth was lingering out there, floating freely between you. You started to panic as the silence stretched on and scrambled to snatch it back: “I mean... if you want to know what it’s like.”

You immediately regretted adding that qualification. That wasn’t why you said it.

Another strained moment of silence passed.

“It wouldn’t make for a very good story,” he finally replied. He was trying to make light of the weird situation, but it came out flat in his modulated voice. He was obviously uncomfortable... and uninterested.

You were so incredibly grateful that he couldn’t see your face at that moment. You forced out an unconvincing laugh and said: “Right.”

The chirping of the crickets outside suddenly seemed deafening in the fraught silence that settled between you. You felt him adjust against your back once more. The flask appeared in your periphery, and you grabbed it quickly, taking a long pull.

Fuck.

You could tell that you had just taken the quiet, tenuous potential of your friendship and obliterated it with one awkward sentence.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he said, pushing himself to his feet behind you.

You nodded vaguely and stayed where you were, staring out into the starry night, until you heard the mechanical click of his bunk closing behind him.

It was never going to happen—you’d always known that. It had never been a real possibility. And yet, in some shadowy corner of your traitorous heart, the tiniest bit of hope had taken root, cultivated by months of lingering touches and endless time spent together in hyperspace. And it hurt to have that fledgling hope completely crushed.

Eventually, you closed the ramp and plopped down on the spare cot against the wall. You tossed and turned for a long time, wondering if Mando would even want to partner with you for jobs any more. Probably not.

You froze when you heard his bunk slide open and the sound of his feet hitting the floor. You expected to hear him walk to the refresher, but when you didn’t hear his footsteps, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

He was facing you, backlit by the light of his open bunk. His silhouette was different than usual—with a jolt, you realized that he was completely unarmored aside from his helmet. The hands that were twitching and clenching by his sides were bare. You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot, waiting for him to do something... anything. The silence between you wasn’t strained now; it was charged, electric, expectant.

He reached back and pressed a button on the wall behind him and his bunk slid shut, bathing the space in complete darkness. You heard him take two steps toward you, then stop. He was waiting for you in the middle of the hull, wordlessly asking you to meet him halfway.

So you did.

You weren’t sure what to do once you were standing a foot in front of his dark outline. You waited for a moment, then you both stepped towards each other at the same time, his hands—you faintly registered that you were feeling his skin on yours for the first time—finding your arms in the darkness. You pressed one palm to the soft fabric covering his chest, tilted your face up... and waited.

He needed to be the one who took that final step.

After he released a shaky exhale through the modulator, his right hand left your bicep to reach up and grip the lip of his helmet. Your stomach swooped in anticipation when you heard the pneumatic release, and you watched the dark shape being lifted from his head.

You could feel the beating of his heart under your fingertips as he lowered his hand to his side, helmet grasped in his fingers. He leaned down, and you couldn’t help but lean up to meet him. Your lips connected sloppily in the dark, off-center and a little harder than you meant, but you corrected yourselves quickly. You thought about how soft his lips were as you moved yours against his; you smiled against his mouth when you noted the tickle of his mustache, and he exhaled against you when you reached up to map out the rest of his face with your hands: scratchy stubble along his jawline, a sharp nose, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, soft hair feathered across his forehead.

He let out a satisfied moan and gripped you a little tighter when you parted your lips to run your tongue experimentally along his pouting bottom lip. He responded in kind, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, his tongue tentatively working its way into your mouth. A muffled moan slipped from your own lips, and you slid one hand under the hem of his shirt, dragging your palm up the rippling muscles of his back.

Mando seemed to be emboldened by your exploration; his helmet clanged against the floor when he let it fall, and both his hands were suddenly roaming over your body, large palms cupping your breasts through your shirt. In an instant, a kiss that had started out as uncertain and eager was suddenly hot and desperate. He backed you toward the ladder with decisive steps until you were pinned between it and his broad chest. His hands worked their way down your back, over the swell of your ass, until he was gripping the backs of your thighs. You linked your hands behind his neck, so he could hoist your legs up and around his middle.

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and his lips found your skin. He trailed kisses up, until he paused with his mouth by your ear.

“It was worth the wait.”

***

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