#I make everyone look so young I have to work on that

[cupid-styles]

a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day. 

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.” 

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.) 

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life. 

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago. 

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that. 

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups. 

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish. 

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it. 

Until now. 

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem. 

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods. 

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation. 

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply. 

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception. 

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her. 

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either. 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept). 

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed. 

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response. 

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response. 

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number. 

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.” 

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach. 

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?” 

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure. 

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it. 

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. 

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm. 

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline. 

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name. 

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles au #one direction #harry's house #hs4 #fineline #harry styles smutty imagine #harry styles smutty fic

[erwinsvow]

knocked up too young and wearing a glittery diamond ring on your left hand, you had settled nicely into the role of mrs. cameron. it wasn’t tough, not a hard position to play in the slightest—rafe, or rather your husband—made everything nice and easy for you.

it seemed like it was his biggest desire come true, making sure you and his little girl were taken care of. he liked it actually, more than he admitted, knowing the two of you were fast asleep in bed when he left for work in the morning, doing nothing but relaxing throughout the day.

in fact, he had decided the second you had tearfully confessed that you were pregnant that this was the sort of life you were meant for, the kind of life he was going to give you. you were so scared, he can remember it like it was yesterday—your watery eyes and wet cheeks, the way your hands shook when you pulled out the test to show him.

“i-i-i’m so sorry, i, i thought the pills were enough, everyone says it’s enough-” you were stammering and crying your way into exhausation, something he definitely didn’t like. 

“s’okay, kid. nothin’ to cry about.” he was formulating his plan already, being proactive in all matters, thinking ahead to marriage licenses and car seats while you stared down at the positive stick in your palm.

“you’re.. you’re not mad, rafe?” the way you look at him, the world stops spinning. why would he be mad?

“hey, s’done,” he says, hands on your shoulders to steady you, bringing you to the edge of the bed to take a seat. he takes the pregnancy test from your hands, looking down at it himself. “it already happened. can’t take it back. no point in cryin’ over it.” 

when you look up with even more tears in your eyes, he’s half convinced he’s said the wrong thing—but it doesn’t faze him, he keeps going.

“hey, hey. what, you thought i wouldn’t take care of you? this is my kid too.”

“i know, i just, i thought you wouldn’t be okay.. with it. having it.” that’s the first and only time he got stern with you through this whole pregnancy.

“hey, don’t talk like that. this is our baby. there’s no question ‘bout havin’ it.” you nod up at him, tears drying as you steady yourself, regain a little composure knowing rafe’s not mad about this little accident. “y’okay now?” you nod again. “good, call your parents. tell ‘em we’re getting married soon.” 

“wh-rafe!” 

but, like how most things were with rafe, he called the shots and you listened. the two of you got married shortly after, before you were even showing. anyone who even attempted to comment on the hastiness of everything shut up the second rafe stared at them.

you’d be a liar to say you didn’t like it, a fool if you didn’t appreciate how rafe was to you.

he stepped up in every way, better than you could have even tried to put together in your imagination. a place was purchased and had slowly started to become home, with a crib that rafe assembled by himself—though it had taken hours and ended up with the instruction papers all crumbled up in a corner—and baby proofed cabinets and sockets. you laugh watching rafe try to install the baby gate on the staircase.

“you know that’s for when they start crawling, right?” you giggle, a hand on your very pregnant belly.

“shut up. m’being proactive. gonna have no time once she actually gets here and we’re runnin’ around changing diapers and makin’ formula and shit.” 

you’re only a touch surprised with how well-versed he is with all the baby stuff, though you appreciate it more and more since you’re still a little confused and overwhelmed. he makes it all easy, from the pregnancy cravings he runs around to find for you to the pretty pink walls in the nursery. he even satisfies all your other cravings, like around month six when there was nothing you wanted more than rafe's dick in every position you could think of.

when his daughter actually comes into the world, the two of you are a mess of emotions and thoughts, but there’s only one rafe really cares about. when can he give you another one?

it doesn’t take long for him to start trying again—trying to convince you that the two of you can handle two, that little kids need siblings their age. the baby’s only six months old but he’s convinced it’ll be better to have them all young at the same time rather than waiting—at least that’s the line he feeds you.

“no, rafe, they’re gonna be like irish twins. it’s so embarassing,” you say next to him in bed, staring up at your husband. 

“what’s that?”

“when you have two babies that aren’t even a year apart.”

“oh. that’s a thing? good, at least there’s a name for it. i’ll get you a book on it, since that’s what we’re doin’.”

and try as you might, even you can’t resist rafe for long, not when he’s taking such good care of you and just wants to give you another baby with his blue eyes and your pretty hair. you end up in the same position that got you into this whole situation—your knees folded to your chest and eyes rolling back while rafe slams into you. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he breathes into your ear, low and quiet since the baby’s sleeping in the other room. “i’ll get y’knocked up again. won’t have to think about a thing in this world except my kids.”

it’s a shame you get pregnant so quickly—rafe was so fun when his only thought revolved around fucking you full of his cum. 

“well, s’not gonna be irish twins. too far apart,” rafe says, looking at the photos from the doctor’s appointment.

“no, it’s just regular twins.” you don’t think you’ve ever seen rafe so happy.

#lol <3 this has been in the drafts for SO LONG #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #what should we call her #wifey reader

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

say you can't sleep, m | myg

... baby, I know that's that me – espresso by sabrina carpenter

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Snapshots of a love story centered around coffee and soft skin, heh, isn't that just so suga sweet? Mmmm, I guess so.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; fluff they're cute as fuck; smut (fem reader, fingering + f-receiving oral at work, gasp, doggy, m-receiving oral in a bedroom, whew, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – Yoongi's POV except final scene in your POV

--

“You don’t like coffee.”

She handed him the iced Americano with an enigmatic expression.

“But I like you.”

Then she walked away.

-

“Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He looked up from his lonesome table, fully intending to tell the person to fuck off. It was too late and too dark and too restless for him to even think about socializing. He lifted his head and found himself speechless for several seconds. An enigmatic expression paired with a tight black dress. He took another sip of his whiskey to avoid making the pause awkward.

He caught a whiff of a heavy, rich, coffee-scented perfume.

Then he shrugged.

“Can’t sleep.”

She smiled.

-

“You know her?”

She sat a few tables away, wrapped in a tight black dress. A soft white knitted cardigan draped over her shoulders. Demure with a hint of sex. He recognized those black high heels with gunmetal buckles. They had been tossed carelessly by his door last night. He watched her hands dance in the air with her conversation. The man sitting in front of her seemed mildly interested. Black t-shirt, silver bracelets, faded blue jeans. She rolled her eyes and her lunch companion looked similarly annoyed, shaking his head of straight, long black hair. The waiter went by their table, carrying the handheld kiosk.

She tapped her credit card, already prepared.

The young man whipped his hands out in a what-the-fuck motion.

She shrugged.

Her black velvet purse was tucked in her lap, right above her plush thighs that had been wrapped around his neck last night.

“Better than you do,” he replied, and didn’t elaborate.

-

“I didn’t know you knew him.”

She gave him a confused look.

“Why wouldn’t I know my younger brother?”

Oh.

She handed him the iced Americano with a sly smile.

“But I’ll let him know that you were jealous.”

Fuck.

-

“You don’t have to.”

She took his hand and wrapped it around the cold drink, leaving him with a handful of condensation and consideration.

“I want to.”

She was about to let go but his other hand shot up, enclosing the back of hers. He watched her almost hide the way her breath caught. Her eyes shifted. Those parted lips were picture perfect softness that inspired wet dreams. Her skin was even more perfect up close and in the light. A tick of her eyebrow. He didn’t back down.

“Meet me in front of the café at seven tonight.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Okay.”

-

Date after date, she wore the same perfume and the same enigmatic smile. Night after night, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Day after day, he looked forward to her occasional treat in the form of ice coffee. He admired her audacity to let everyone talk. Both of them deflected the topic when anyone asked. No sense in entertaining unsolicited opinions.

In bed, he closed his eyes and breathed in, remembering the way her soft skin smelled against him.

He was addicted to her perfume.

Then again, he already had a coffee problem so maybe it was all in his head.

-

From across the room, she smiled at him.

He acknowledged her with a nod, sticking his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake.

The eye contact lingered for a moment linger before she turned and walked out the door.

After about ten minutes, he made up some excuse and left too.

-

He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up.

Her knuckle was against her teeth, biting down lightly, calmly giving him an expression of apprehension and boldness. He cocked his head. She shrugged with one shoulder. He bunched her skirt around her waist.

And stared into her eyes as he licked upwards.

Hot, heavy, and with possessiveness.

She melted against the wall. Lashes fluttering, shivering under him, no sound. Probably because of where they were. The mischief in her eyes glimmered. Her perfect lips formed words both silent and damning.

Keep going.

To be perfectly clear he did not give a fuck about rules, but also he liked his job and didn’t want to get himself fired. Yet. He skimmed his lips over her soft skin and figured that at least it would be a cool story, letting his fingers sink into her shapely hips, toying with the hem of her panties with his thumbs. Her free hand wandered down to hold up her skirt. Helpful. He closed his eyes. Tongue, lips, teeth travelling up in a zig-zag from thigh to thigh. Her coffee-scented perfume faded as the scent of sweet sex prevailed, his index finger skimming over the heat, following the forbidden line.

Absolute silence.

But beneath his lips, her body was singing. Vibrating with pleasure. Pressing her shoulder blades against the wall, rolling her hips towards him. He opened his eyes to see hers under lidded lashes. Slid his finger under, down, the back of his nail drenched, and he pulled it aside, watching her sensual mouth form his name.

He closed his lips around the top and sank two fingers into her pussy.

Fuck, she tasted so good.

The shudder took over him before he could stop it. Delightful shivers as he watched her watch him when he cupped his tongue around her clit. Circling it gently. Coaxing. Slow and steady, admiring the way her slick walls closed in around his fingers. Thrusting deeper. He spread his knees more, wincing as he felt his hardening erection strain against even his loose jeans. She kept her hips still, melting into his momentum, looking hot as hell fully dressed with his mouth as her new accessory. He spied the curl of her pink tongue against the side of her lips. His fingers involuntarily twitched, digging his blunt nails into her thigh. Tongue against nerves. The steady climb to the heavenly high. Quiet breathing becoming labored, his cock aching at the image and taste of sweet evidence.

Her arousal dripping down his throat.

She came to his tongue, pressing the crown of her head against the wall and silently gasping to the ceiling.

No one found out.

At least, Human Resources didn’t let him know they did.

-

He spent a little more time checking out his outfit before leaving his apartment. Bomber jacket, loose shirt, slightly less torn jeans, and his nicest bag, a black leather messenger. Debated on a beanie. Decided against it and took a moment to tie his hair back into a low ponytail. The front pieces were too short to be tied back. He adjusted them in the mirror and out the door he went. Subway and then a short walk. He visited the usual spot, a café by the office, and she was already in line. The cashier seemed to have taken a liking to her, trying to keep her for a few lines of conversation. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, courteously stepping out of line after she paid and waiting to the side for her order.

He contemplated walking up to her.

This was the first time he had been this early. He was not and never would be a morning person. A lot of the time he had to settle for the shitty coffee from the machine in the break room. He preferred an expert’s hand though, so he did his best to drag himself out of bed to get in line. Big chains had apps to order-and-go, but this was a mom-and-pop store that didn’t have the money for such technology. Honestly, now he was glad about that. A rare occurrence of the universe being on his side.

His gaze must have remained for too long because she looked up from her phone and her head turned, spotting him immediately.

He let his eyes linger when hers did.

A glimmer in her eye. Must be the morning sun. She raised her hand and beckoned him to her.

He stepped out of line and walked up to her.

“I can buy my own coffee, you know.”

The café smelled like stale morning coffee and yet somehow she smelled even better.

“Just let me do this one thing for you, hm?” she smiled.

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he stood next to her and stuck his hands in his pockets. He noticed several people looking her way but they all quickly reoriented their wandering eyes. It had to have something to do with the way her long black skirt clung to her hips or her courage of wearing a maroon faux fur cropped jacket out in public. Or maybe it was the way her tight black turtleneck clung to her chest.

“You can go on ahead. I’ll drop off the drink for you.”

He half-considered it. Maybe even take a moment to make it obvious for everyone.

Still, he didn’t want to leave.

“I’m still waking up,” he offered as his reply.

They weren’t looking at each other but he was highly aware of her presence next to him. He didn’t sense any discomfort. The café was getting packed. She scooted closer to him as a couple more people moved into the waiting section.

The barista called out her name.

She glided up to the counter. He watched her go, pit-a-pat beating in his chest. Admired every line, the way her hips swayed, the way stray rays of the sunrise made her hair glow. Watched her turn around in slow-motion mental cinema, raising her head, their eyes connecting, the corner of her lips rising when she saw him waiting for her.

She held out the iced Americano.

“Careful, someone might think we’re an item.”

He reached out and let his fingers graze her wrist.

“I think someone already does.”

He was talking about himself but he didn’t miss the pleasure in her eyes when the exchange happened.

-

She was a menace every time.

“I’m going to make sure you’ll need caffeine tomorrow,” she mused out loud.

He raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you going to do that?”

He somewhat regretted asking that.

-

The room was pitch black.

“You still up?”

The presence beside him shifted, facing him, but he wouldn’t be able to see even if he opened his eyes. He didn’t need to though. He knew the way the blanket draped over her arm, exposing the corner of her shoulder, her hair cascading over her neck covered in his invisible kisses and light bites. Her arm over her breasts as she adjusted her hand just under the pillow. The blanket dipped a bit further down the bed, then rose up sharply at her hips.

“Sorry if I seem restless,” she whispered. “I have insomnia sometimes.”

He had offered before, but she hadn’t accepted until tonight. He wasn’t sure what had made her change her mind.

“Me too,” he confessed. “I take a long time to fall asleep.”

Her voice was feathery and soft. Not pitched to act younger or be more appealing. True to who she was and where she was in her life. Her coffee-scented perfume reflected that as well. Dark and smokey and acidic. Full-bodied in every sense of the word. He heard amusement in her soothing voice as she spoke.

“That’s a very polite way of admitting that you’re nervous of the pretty girl in your bed being a closeted psychopath and smothering you in your sleep before taking all of your valuables and skipping town.”

He smiled.

“Don’t worry, I know all pretty girls are psychopaths.”

She laughed. “Won’t fall for my tricks then, hm?”

“I might if you actually tried some of yours on me.”

There was a pause in her breathing. A single flutter of butterfly wings, so slight he almost thought he imagined it.

“You think so?”

He kept telling himself he wouldn’t, but deep down he knew he would.

“Yeah,” he murmured, noncommittal.

There was a pungent silence.

Then he felt her warmth closer. Closer. Warm exhale tickling his shoulder. Her hand settled on his arm. A whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thought, oh, it would be annoying. It would be heedlessly complicated. It would die out quick. And, ultimately, it would be fleeting and unfulfilling.

Like a shooting star during a meteor shower.

“You’re something else, Min Yoongi.”

Meaningless was it was, he found himself making a wish as the weight of sleep swept him away.

-

Of course, he was scared.

Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it or show it. People were fickle, complicated creatures that spent lifetimes trying to explain themselves to no avail. He was one of them. He had long ago accepted that he was part of the problem. Likewise, he accepted that he would never understand. He wasn’t about to encroach on the millennia of human philosophy and twist his brain trying to make sense of it all.

“I should leave.”

Best he could do was write some songs about it.

“Sit,” he commanded in his most inviting tone.

Better not to think about it too much.

He looked away from the stove for a moment to see the unsure shift of her eyes and the hesitation of her parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She lifted her gaze.

He held it, but only for a second.

Any longer would have been too telling.

He turned back to the pan and replied with, “You cannot possibly think I’m that rude to kick you out before breakfast. Sit.”

Thinking about it too much would ruin it, anyway. It would make it less true. Convoluted. Muddled by past experiences and endless doubts. He refused to let that happen. He lifted the frying pan, tipping the fried egg onto the freshly made white rice. Set the pan down. Turned around with the bowl in hand, setting it on the counter in front of the barstool next to a small plate of his mother’s kimchi. He saw her hesitate once more. Maybe it was his imagination, or was that a flush of pink at the tops of her cheeks? He pulled out a drawer and added a pair of chopsticks by the bowl. Didn’t take his eyes off her movements.

She reached out and pulled out the barstool, sliding onto the brown leather.

Bowed her head to hide her smile.

“Thanks for the food.”

Yoongi silently let out the breath he had been holding.

-

Just before she walked out his door, she leaned in and kissed him.

She drew back.

“See you.”

He stepped forward and pulled her into a longer kiss.

“See you,” he breathed, missing her already.

-

He couldn’t look at he when she smiled.

Even as the corner of his mouth lifted and his teeth sank into the side of his lower lip.

Dark, smokey, acidic.

Her perfume was so familiar now. It settled into his palette, embellishing the dreamlike image. His hands rested on her waist, fingertips drumming against soft skin. Her fingers danced up his sternum and her lips hovered by his. Breath to breath. Her other palm on his chest. Hips to hips. The moment lingered. Almost to the point of discomfort, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

He wondered if he tasted like coffee.

The kiss melted into him. Warmth rushed all over his body. He should be used to it and yet he fell back under her spell. Under her kisses over his face and neck, under her insistent touch. He dug his nails into her back. She matched him, but harder, rougher, her tongue slipping into his moaning mouth as she scratched him up. Perhaps it was a perverted satisfaction but he rather enjoyed knowing that his pale skin would be marred in pink lines of passion. He didn’t want to be precious about it.

She straddled him and pressed her panties into his erection.

He griped her waist and kissed her harder.

-

He enjoyed it when she slipped her arm in his as they walked side by side. He enjoyed watching passerby glance at them with envy, especially when her head leaned against his shoulder. He enjoyed it when she tugged him to her and caught his lips possessively. He didn’t know when he stopped hiding the smile he had when around her. He didn’t know when he stopped wanting to be alone in his free time and instead wanted to fill it with her coffee-scented perfume. He used to work late all the time because there was nothing better to do, but lately there was a better reason to ditch his responsibilities.

It was careless but such was life.

Heh.

He loved to watch her face, and yet there was something about watching her back arch and her fingers curl into the sheets. Something about his hands gripping her hips and driving himself deeper. Something about the image of her ass and thighs bouncing with each forceful smack of body-to-body contact. Just something about it. Tight, wet, hot, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, dragging his nails down her spine, feeling her match his pace. He enjoyed fucking as much as the next guy. This was simply different.

Something about her, maybe.

She threw her head back, her visceral sounds music to his ears, pleasure incarnate, and he could feel each wave threaten to drag him under, into the permanent honeymoon haze. He let it take him, gasping, surrendering, wanting it again already. She moaned with him, clutching his pillows into a jumbled mess.

Fuck, so good.

One shared look.

To be honest, he was proud of the number of used condoms that piled up.

-

“A candle?”

She lifted the heavy glass lid and inhaled. Her eyes widened, sparkling with recognition and delight.

He stated the obvious. “It’s coffee-scented.”

“I love the scent of coffee,” she murmured. He already knew that. “You remember.”

He half-smiled. “Isn’t that your excuse for always getting me one? You like the scent but you don’t drink it?” He couldn’t help but tease.

She gave him a mischievous smirk. “Trying to throw me off your scent? It won’t work.”

He sure as fuck hoped it didn’t. “I’m trying to convince you to stop buying those expensive iced Americanos for me. I’m trying to cut down for my health.”

She frowned. But he shook his head, trying to dissipate any misunderstanding.

“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t come up with the idea. My doctor did.”

Her gaze narrowed, unconvinced.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets so they would stop shaking. There was no bag or awkward gift wrapping for him to hold on to. It wasn’t his style, but he somewhat regretted it now. He tiled his head, relaxing his face despite the thunder within his ribcage.

“What?”

She replaced the lid of the candle. Her thumb ran across the embossed characters on the paper label. Capitalism had burned a hole in his wallet. He didn’t mind though. She held it close to her chest.

“This is an expensive brand. I’ve seen it at higher end stores.”

He was delighted that she knew. The cheaper brands had smelled far too fake and far too sweet. He wanted that rich bitterness. Dark and smokey and acidic. A scent that reminded him of them. She watched him carefully. He shrugged.

“You get what you pay for.” Chuckled, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Fair, once I considered the culmination of the price of all those coffees. And, anyway, I only wanted you to know that you don’t have to pay a price for my attention. You’ve had it all this time.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

He shifted his weight, about to walk past.

At the last second, he turned his head, pausing to whisper in her ear.

“But don’t think about buying anyone else a coffee, alright?”

Before he could make his escape, her eyes were already locked onto his, her lips centimeters from his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Min Yoongi.”

-

“What?”

She grinned. Their hands interlocked. Holding tight, even though his back was flat against her bed. Her body hovered over his. She lowered, slowly. He sucked in a breath as he felt her hard nipples brush against his chest.

“You like that?” she teased.

He stared into her eyes, melting into her mischief. “Yeah.”

She pressed her soft breasts flush against him, rubbing back and forth. He closed his eyes, shuddering, her name in his throat. His other hand migrated to her waist and he squeezed her, wanting her to know his desire. Her coffee-scented perfume stuck to his skin, bitter and sweet and addictive, a guilty pleasure he didn’t feel guilty about.

His doctor had advised him to cut back on coffee and alcohol, his other guilty pleasures, so naturally he found himself tangled up in another.

Heh.

His fingers slid up, up, tangling in her hair, pulling her face to his. There was a split second where their eye lines connected under their lashes, and he froze up. She stared back. Centimeters of trembling air between their lips. His entire body could barely contain the want and yet. It wasn’t the first time they had been this close. Far from it.

But this was the first time Yoongi realized he would move heaven and earth for those eyes.

He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back and closed the distance between them, her eyelids falling. His too, and he realized there was sex and then there was this. This, the goosebumps that erupted over his skin when her fingertips glided down his arm. This, the chain of kisses leaving him in a daze. This, the delicate shock of her lips travelling down his chest. This, the pit-a-pat and pang of something so dirty being so pure. Her mouth enveloped him and coated his cock with a thin layer of velvety saliva. Back and forth, so soft, just right, building a lovely desperation that he savored. Tighter, and he gasped, marveling at the suffocating gentleness that made him painfully hard. Pace so steady it was nearly maddening, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and he sucked in another breath, the air saturated with her scent, hitting the apex and at the same time falling so fully that he couldn’t hide it anymore.

She kept him hard, knowing the precise amount of softness and insistence. He didn’t need to say anything. She thought about him the same way he thought about her. Her hands fanned over his hips, extending the pleasure of orgasm. His exhale a shudder. Their eyes connected again.

He beckoned her back up, breathlessly.

She obeyed. Skin to skin. His fingertips touched her chin, conducting her movement.

He could taste himself in their kiss.

“You like that?” he whispered to her lips.

She smiled against his. “Yeah.”

One torn-open condom wrapper later, and there was nothing better than her legs wrapping around his waist once he was completely inside. Shivering breath, his fingertips grazing over her collarbones, and he was well aware of his own black hair tangled over his eyes. She looked up at with admiration and satisfaction, tightening around him.

“You should come over to mine tomorrow night. Spend the weekend with me,” he found himself saying.

Her expression amused. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your landlord.”

He pushed his hair back, cleaning his vision.

“Let that be my problem.”

Her eyes sparkled.

“I’ll think about it.”

Seemed like she already had though.

Slow and tense, leaning down. Deeper. Her legs sliding up, tighter. Each breath drawn in hotter, keeping their electric eye contact, and he lifted one of his hands to wrap around her wrist. She watched him, intrigued. He thrust downwards and she squeezed him all around, meeting his pace, their eyes closing, succumbing to the honeymoon haze in harmony, their wanton sounds melding together like sugar into coffee. Harder. Rougher. Her name falling from his lips and his from hers. His grip on her wrist slipped.

Their fingers interlocked.

He kept the high coming, over and over.

-

The room was pitch black.

“Can’t sleep?”

He stretched his arm over his head. His body was still running hot.

“Don’t want to.”

She hummed. “Why’s that?”

He should sleep but that would tear him out of this dream. “Pretty girl giving me insomnia.”

“Damn. Wish I could help,” she chuckled, curling up against his side.

He hadn’t known it when she walked into his life, light glimmering off her hair and adorned with a sweet smile. Day by day, catching himself watching her walk past. He admired the confident way she held herself, the assuredness in her stride, the sharpness of her wit. Then one day, the morning after a particularly restless night, she had walked right up to him, an iced Americano in hand. She had known his preference. Could have been observation or asking around. Or both. Didn’t matter, as it was clear she took the time and noticed his lingering gaze.

“Why me?”

Her soft cheek against his shoulder.

“You know why.”

He did but he still wanted to make sure. “You weren’t scared?”

She took a moment to recall. “Worst thing you can say is no. You didn’t.”

He turned his head. She scooted up, and now they were looking at each other in the darkness. He couldn’t see shit, but he had already memorized her face in moments, in snapshots of closeness, into dreams he couldn’t help but believe in. She brought her face closer and their lips found each other with him meeting her halfway.

He pulled her closer.

Yoongi had always believed, oh, love would be annoying. Love would be heedlessly complicated. Love would die out quick and, ultimately, be fleeting and unfulfilling, like a shooting star during a meteor shower. And maybe it was all that.

But he could also be wrong.

Kiss after kiss, falling stars in the darkness, and he couldn’t help but believe in wishes.

Maybe he was just too far gone. Too under her spell to be logical anymore. Her leg slid over his hip, their bodies seamlessly against each other and her hand cradled his face, breathing in his air. Her perfume still lingered, dark and smokey and reminding him of how this love started, or perhaps it had rubbed off onto his skin in their passion. He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it.

“Don’t think about anyone else, alright?” she whispered.

His hand settled around her waist.

His lips touched her nose. Lightly, endearingly. Didn’t she know? She must. Maybe she wanted to hear it from his lips. He didn’t know the romantic thing to say. He was terrible at that. Always was, always would be. Then again, she had already given him the answer.

He smiled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

-

“Iced Americano. The largest size, please.”

The barista smiled sheepishly. “Busy day?”

You tilted your head, a stray strand of hair curling around your curved lips.

“My darling needs it.”

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

[starfxkr]

western nights (pt. 1)

pairing: older!trailer park!jj x reader

summary: jj maybank knows he's too old to be messing around with a young girl like you, but he does it anyways

warnings: age gap, smut (fingering), that's p much it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jj was known for bein a sleaze around the trailer park. a two time felon who's doing his best to lay low by taking odd jobs around the complex so the feds don't come knocking at his door. you could catch him doing anything from mowing lawns to helping out the grandmas who's sons long stopped coming to check on them. girls came and went out of his trailer at all times of the day--clothes askew and hair messy.

but once he set his eyes on you, everyone else went out the window. he'd known of you of course, having grown up in the complex you're whole life but you were nothing more than one of many little shits running around in a little conglomerate of cheese puff fingers and sugar highs. he paid you no mind, maybe you were one of the kids he's bought crappy water pistols for, maybe not. one summer though, one summer he's on your lawn fixing your car because your mom asked, and there you were-- sitting pretty on your lawn chair reading some trashy book in what he thinks is the smallest dress he's ever seen.

the two of you lock eyes and from then on he's always finding a reason to sniff around you.

each time you pass by jj's place he lets out a whistle, sayin "wish the girls looked as good as you when i was that age." and you just roll your eyes and keep walking. he always finding something to fix around your house and your mom becomes more and more enamored with him not noticing he only has eyes for you.

it all comes to a head during a birthday party--your mom's to be exact. the whole little block is drinking, kids running around, barbecue in the air but you're sitting across from him in his too hot trailer trying to wrangle a beer out of him.

"you even old enough to drink yet? you still got one baby fat on ya." he pinches your cheek and you smack him away with a scoff, leaning over with your hands on either sides of his hips on the couch

"does it matter? you're gonna give it to me anyways." the little pout on you face makes his dick twitch in his jeans, and he makes no effort to hide his growing erection.

"nuh uh little girl, gonna need to see some i.d." you squeak when he pats your ass to 'search' for your wallet, fingers dancing at the hem of your denim skirt and sliding up you shirt to cup your breast, "feels like you're old enough to me."

your eyes flutter shut when he swipes a calloused thumb across your nipple, a tiny hmph of pleasure works it's way past your lips when he pinches the soft flesh.

the beer is quickly forgotten when he lifts your shirt off, wasting no time in getting his mouth on you--licking the sweat from the valley of your breasts and sucking on your neck as you move to sit on his lap.

"should we even be doin this? y'know my mama's realll sweet on you." you pull away from him but make no move to leave.

jj just scoffs and waves it away, running a hand through his blonde hair in irritation, "lots of women are, nothin new, been this way as long as i can remember but it never mattered to me much."

you can tell he wants this conversation to be over, his eyes raking over your body and his fingers tugging at the button to your skirt even as you cross your arms in front of you, "if she finds out we're fucked."

he shrugs, "then don't let her find out."

that's all you need to continue, letting him capture your lips with his, his rough hands travel over your soft skin, stoking the fire building steadily inside of you. despite your veneer of coolness, he can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck under his palm.

"you scared of me or somethin?" his voice is raspy when he whispers against your jaw.

you whimper in reply, "n-no?" even you notice you don't sound too sure--maybe there's a little fear despite your flirting. you wanted to be good for him, you wanted him to like you.

he looks like he doesnt believe you, but he lets it go.

"then get over here." jj yanks you back towards him until your face was tucked into his neck. he doesn't even bother taking your skirt off, just hikes it up and tugs your panties down with a smack on your ass until they're sitting right below the swell of the soft flesh.

the moan that leaves your lips when his fingers graze your clit is almost pornographic, you hadn't even realized how wet you were until you heard the slick sound of his fingers plunging into you with ease. he was obviously skillful, he found that sweet spot inside you with no problem, rubbing it in time with the thumb on your clit while you squeaked and squirmed against him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

you were slick and dripping down his palm, doing your best to squirm away from the assault on your pussy but he wouldn't let you, chasing after your thrashing hips and letting out a soft grunt when you sink your teeth into his neck. the way he used his fingers should be a crime--scissoring them open and slowly dragging the pads down your front wall just to hear you mewl like a kitten at the feeling. the thumb on your clit still rubbing in quick, confident circles and he could tell by the way it swelled and throbbed that you were close.

"bet those little boys never made you feel like this huh?" he laughs at you whining response, the answer is extremely apparent by the sound of your growing wetness--your high pitched keen drowned out by the sloshing of your pussy, "there you go sugar, just let it all out."

you choke out a moan and drench him, pussy locking tight around his knuckles as you pulsed, squirting your release all over his lap. there was no way he had you feeling like that just from fingering but here you were, pulse rushing in your ears as he got your clothes back right, sitting you on the couch with a kiss on the forehead as he left to go change seeing as though you soaked his jeans.

when he comes back he lets out a chuckle at the sight of you still sitting there dazed and he finally gives you that beer, "get yourself together aight?" i'll see you back out there.

it takes you almost 20 minutes to finish the beer, still trembling and pussy aching with the need to be filled. you finally step outside, eyes hazy and brain turned to mush when you notice you don't have your panties on.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj

[deathbxnny]

Alrighty cool, thank you for clearing that up (and in such a timely manner too)!

So, lemme cook here... with some Angst + Hurt/Comfort >:D

Arlecchino with a Fem!S/O who's the "Mother" to the children of the House. She was among the survivors of the previous Knave's regime over the House of Hearth. With her and Arle having had perhaps a kind of mutual crush that was only truly pursued after Arle killed "mother".

Basically, the scenario for the request is when Arlecchino' and her's S/O are taking care of one of the kids of the House after they're badly injured after a mission, and... needles to say... they don't make it. And during when Arle and S/O are visiting the kid's grave to pay their respect's, S/O begins to muse "you'd think I'd be used to having to bury children, after..." before starting to break down.

Ooooh, I love your brain, Anon!! Thank you so much for this great request!! I have to admit that whilst writing this, I actually liked the idea of making this super angsty and kind of bitter (like most of my fics lmao-) so I hope you like it despite the lack of comfort anyway-

Content: Heavy angst, vague mentions of past child abuse, murder, death, reader is Female and referred to as "Mother/wife", mentions of heavy injuries and blood, controlling behavior from/ooc Arlecchino?, kind of bitter ending, children dying, grief Reader has she/her pronouns ((Not proofread!!!))

Buried angels and that odd wish to live. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

In a way, you often wondered why the young ones often wished to live when they knew that their end was nearing. Their eyes would widen, breaths becoming sharper and shorter, mouths closing and opening in panic before they'd whisper those words you had heard so many times. Their deaths always followed closely after, eyes dimming, their soul finally disappearing with the blown out candles, the sweet scent mingling with the smell of blood and burnt flesh. In the light of the moon filtering through an open window, you'd see the grim reaper staring at you in mirrors and your crimson stained palms, a thoughtful look on her face, one asking a simple question she might forever ask you.

"What did you expect?"

And you'd reply by looking away from your own image, away from the guilt and self-doubt and into the eyes of the woman who made all these children utter that odd wish in the first place.

Your hands shook, held up high as you peered into the crime of a mother who couldn't save her child, raised as though pleading for the forgivness of a god that was mightier than the one you worked for. One that was less cruel, despite the heart everyone claimed she had. And yet, they were enveloped by a towel instead, that wiped away the sins and hurt, even if just for a moment. "There is... nothing we could have done to save her, Mother." Lyney whispered quietly to you, perhaps afraid of being too loud and disturbing someone who couldn't even ever bother to hear him anymore. He tried to be reassuring, but it did little when you just couldn't look away from your wife.

Arlecchino. The Knave. A highly ranked harbinger, whose heart always belonged to you from the start, although with great difficulties that took you years to overcome.

The first time she made you stain your hands with blood was when she killed the woman that raised you two, the first and only woman you ever called "Mother." Although the gentleness and nurturing part of her title was just a simple facade, it still shaped you both greately. You had sworn to do better, to become a better mother to all the children you both took in after marriage and Arlecchino... she seemed to have trned against that title. She believed that being a "father" was more fitting. The right way to raise the children of the Hearth family. Cold and detached, yet firm and guiding.

It made you opposites at times. Painfully different opposites. You became a secret haven of safety for the children, a place they can hide away in, whenever their "Father's" wrath came after them. And you've fought so hard to be this gentle. You killed, murdered, slaughtered your way out of fate. You dragged yourself out of hell, you bled, you cried endless tears. You wanted to prove that you could do better and you ultimately did now... or so you thought. You began doubting it years ago, and it's what made you find their wish to live so odd. Was it an instinct, or did they actually view their life's with you two as desirable, something to live for, when all they did in the end was suffer?

"Mother." Lyney said again, this time a little louder, this time enough to make you glance up at him. His face was a blurry shadow, the light falling over his shoulders and illuminating his head like a halo, as he pushed the towel rather hastily into a nearby laundry basket. You'd never get the stains out, and so it would most likely be thrown away, perhaps burried with the young girl. "Let's... get you cleaned up, okay? I... we will take care of the rest." The change in his wording made you press your lips together. It wasn't anyone's job to do this except your own, and for a moment, you imagined yourself curling up next to the child that died crying and begging for you to save it.

You stood up only barely on shaking knees, trembling hand reaching out to close the small girls eyes, and you could feel the cold tears and skin stinging your palm. "It is alright, Lyney. Your father and I will take care of her ourselves..." You looked over your shoulder at the woman who had yet to move or say anything ever since she silently entered the room a while ago. You could see the cold glint of her eyes in the dark, her face otherwise covered by the shadows as she sat calmy and collected in her chair. She knew it was over the moment the girl was brought in by a couple of Fatui agents, th failure of her mission being crystal clear by the deep wounds and burns on her body. She never stood a chance. She wasn't experienced enough, not skilled enough. But the weak get eaten, as the Knave would often say.

Lyney gave you a hesitant look, his mouth opening to protest before he stilled at his Father crossing his legs expectantly. He understood the silent order. "... Ofcourse, Mother. Call my name if there is anything I can do for you." He said, a hand on his chest as he bowed before quickly taking his leave. When the door creaked open, you could have sworn to see the flickers of Lynette and Freminet staring back at you solemnly before they disappeared in the presence of their brother. You stared at the closed door for an unknown while, nearly zoning out, until you let out a shaky sigh. "Make her grave beautiful, perhaps with a blue ribbon attached to it. She loved those." You muttered, the exhaustion finally hitting you full force and making you feel faint. Your body felt heavy, feet dragging across the floor as you also made your exit, the only awknowledgement you received being in the form of the woman leaning her head against her palm idly whilst she closed those cursed eyes of hers.

---

There wasn't much of a funeral for the child.

A couple Fatui agents simply made a hole in the ground like they did with all the others and then lowered the small casket into it, before tossing dirt back in until it disappeared and only the stone with her was left as proof that the child ever even existed. It was a routine at this point, one everyone was used to. Everyone but you. Perhaps the years had made you soft. Perhaps the love and gentleness you gave these children had made you weak. But here you were, standing under the rain and staring at the grave for hours now, unmoving. The water had drenched through your clothes, ran down your face, made you shiver from the cold, despite feeling too numb to fully realise that. Arlecchino stood at your side, an umbrella laying in the wet dirt by her heeled feet from when you pushed it out of her hands and away from you defiantly.

The silence was deafening, filled with the constant tapping of water against your clothes, the metal on the Knave's uniform, and the stone of the sea of graves around you. "How many..." You whispered weakly, trying to form words through incoherent thoughts and the lack of sleep you've had lately. "... do I have to see die before it's enough?" Arlecchino said nothing, and you were nearly convinced that she didn't hear you if it wasn't for her hand twitching.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, a hand covering your face, trying to ease the pain that plagued you deeply. "You'd think that I'd be used to burying children by now... but I... it hurts me." You didn't want to break. In fact, you had never broken before. But as you stood there amongst the many angels that you burried, the many angels that had all once stained your hands red, you began to wonder why you ever even agreed to this. You weren't like your wife. You couldn't be a "Father". You just didn't want to be one.

You buried your face into your hands, imagining the suffocating feeling of their final wish being the same as the pain of strangulation. They reached for the skies and reached for freedom they could only brush shortly with their fingertips before they were covered in dirt to never see what they desperately yearned for again.

"We always took pride in having become something better, different than her... and yet look at us, Peruere! We just became exact copies of her instead! Oh, the shame!" You whispered through strained sobs, voice distorted as you crumbled to the ground in guilt. You had been defeated, and yet Arlecchino still stood so tall, her eyes staring at your shivering and trembling form. She didn't say a word, or perhaps she didn't know what to say. "How many children will you make me stain my hands for?" You asked finally, but the silence told you all.

Peruere loved the children you raised together. But Arlecchino, the Knave, had an objective, a mission. Eat or be eaten, a reality that even hurt her deep down. And yet the curse she had since birth prevented her from feeling it any further than a passing acknowledgement.

"... Stand up, (Y/N). We need to get home... our children await us." She simply responded after your heavy breaths became shallow, and you simply laid there limply at the foot of the grave. But her voice conveyed a certain gentleness she only ever extends to you. It was like the warmth of a summer rain, refreshing and light as it rippled through your heart. With swollen eyes, you watched her reach an ungloved hand out to you, her gaze expectant and yet so unreadable. You felt like a child that powered itself out after a tantrum, the exhaustion and defeat crippling your soul, when you finally just took her hand after what felt like a long moment of consideration.

She hummed a gentle praise against your ear as you slumped against her, face pressed to her shoulder whilst you trembled now from the cold that nipped at your skin through your drenched clothes. Arlecchino wrapped an arm around you, her pensive and yet still so stern gaze drifting through the graveyard filled with those buried angels, as you often called them. Perhaps it was a moment of calm reflection, that made her grab onto your face and wipe away a tear.

"You are nothing like her." And yet, the Knave didn't deny that she might have fallen to her fate herself. Just not you. Never you. "These tears, this hurt you speak of, they are all proof of it. You shed tears for them, for us. Only a good mother could do such a thing." The words she spoke had a deep meaning, one only you two understood, and that made your heart flutter. You looked away, trying your best not to burst into tears again at the tragedy of the situation, but it was so hard when Arlecchino got like this. She only rarely showcased such blatant affection, such blatant declaration of her deep yet rather complicated love for you as her wife. "Please... Let's go home..." You simply whispered, which made her nod in approval.

You gazed up at the skies as you walked away, sunlight beginning to filter through the thick clouds and making you frown bitterly as it warmed your face. Arlecchino's hand meanwhile rested against your back, her watchful eyes gliding across the endless meadows you passed by, and for a moment, she could hear her children laughing, squealing and frolicking through the tall grass. They chased each other in a game of tag, running as fast as they could away from the two of you, over a hill and into what the Knave imagined to be their freedom far from her cold and stern ways. She cracked a bitter smile, one of acceptance as she glanced down at your tired, silently crying and trembling form.

Arlecchino was perhaps wrong after all. Maybe in the end the children did need a loving, nurturing mother instead.

What a shame, that it was too late to go back now.

Alright, so this took me all day to write, and I'm not sure if it's good, because I'm still very sick... but I still hope you liked this, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!!<33

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin arlecchino x reader #arleccino genshin #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jane Fonda (Barbarella, Sunday in New York, Barefoot in the Park)—Feminist icon, LGBTQ+ rights activist since the 70s, Civil Rights and Native American rights advocate, environmentalist… she really is THE woman ever

Rita Hayworth (Gilda, Cover Girl)—Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She steals every movie she’s in; she was Fred Astaire’s favorite dance partner, as you can see in clips from their movies [link][link]. Born Margarita Carmen Cansino, Rita's story had its tragedies—her father was awful and had her performing in nightclubs way, way too young; the studio totally remade her look because they were afraid of her hispanic image, putting her through painful treatments and diets; she had a string of failed marriages. But beside all that, I think there's something about Rita that still glows through—an inner beauty that has nothing to do with the studio, or the men who pinned their dreams on her. Rita brings an incandescence to roles that's impossible to replicate, and was truly a great actress in that she could switch from herself—shy Margarita—into a bold and glamorous femme fatale so convincingly everyone fell in love with her as Gilda. She's my favorite movie star, and I think she was a beautiful human through and through—Rita, gorgeous and real and shining bright.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jane Fonda:

" I assume she's already been submitted but I gotta make sure. I think there's an element to movies like Barbarella or her segment of Spirit of the Dead of those having been directed by her husband, who famously made movies about her being hot, and the incredible costume design also helped, but good lord. Look at her"

"She was so pretty, dear lord! She was and still us stunning. She’s great at comedy and drama."

"Shes so hot im so gay for me i will let her hit me with hers car"

"Gorgeous and also still getting arrested at climate protests, which is sexy behavior"

"Watching her in Barefoot in the Park seriously made me, a straight woman, question things"

"PLEASE I LOVE HER SO MUCH"

"Her vibes in these movies are so interesting because she, the daughter of an Old Hollywood star, went on to make both poignant dramatic movies and the some of the silliest things you've ever seen but even in the silly space adventures and sexploitations there's always this undeniable gravitas to her. It's like she's able not to take herself very seriously but at the same time never stops having this grace and elegance and makes it all work together. And she's always been very politically active which is also sexy. Her famous mugshot is from 1970 so right at the cutoff mark but come on"

Rita Hayworth:

Do you need any other propaganda? Here’s the video.

She was not called "the love goddess" for nothing: beautiful, glamorous, despite playing sexy and provocative roles her inherent shyness somehow also would shine through sometimes, creating this contradictory and incredibly attractive image

Often played "the bad girl" who tempted the male hero away from "the good girl"; but did have roles that broke her out of that mold. She was also the inspiration for Jessica Rabbit. THE pinup girlie.

HELP

She was soo beautiful when she was young and she MAINTAINED that beauty into her later years and I think that old lady glamour is hot. bombastic sex appeal

every line she delivers in gilda is so flirty and passionate or absolutely desolate and it's so good

I just have a lot of feelings about her

#rita hayworth #jane fonda #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5 #Youtube

[uranometrias]

❝ GILDED LILY ❞

♯  .  . ︒୭

this is a small excerpt from my spence fic that i made x reader! reader has a bf + a baby! timeline wise this takes place pre-s1 + reader is only 21 years old. she works in comms with jj.

"She hates me." and it's an exhaled comment Spencer is almost unaware he's making as his eyes stayed glued on the newest member of the team. Derek was to his right, eyebrow quirking upward as he looked between Spencer, and you. Your heeled boots clack against the ground as you walked ─── nay strutted across the bullpen towards the kitchenette.

Most likely to grab a cup of coffee, as your tenure with the bureau had taught them, Y/N L/N was addicted to caffeine and sugar. Derek wants to comment that it's too soon to tell, and honestly it had been. You'd really only been around for a few weeks, it was possible you were still just getting used to everyone.

Besides, if Derek had joined the bureau with the same circumstances as you, he wouldn't be itching to make new friends, either. You've tossed your head back laughing at something JJ has said, and Derek winces. Okay, maybe there was a slight difference in how you interacted with everyone else and with Spencer.

You'd been working directly under JJ for three weeks now, and every morning you'd come in and greet everyone on the team. Everyone apart from Spencer that is. "Maybe she just need a little more time." Derek offers, but it's clear in his tone that he's not completely convinced that 'time' was all that it took.

"I don't think so." Spencer denies, and he doesn't really know why it's bothering him so bad, your clear and purposeful indifference towards him. Maybe because he'd half expected you to be an angel from the way your older cousin from the Forensics Unit had described you. And in truth, you probably were the angel your cousin had claimed you to be, you and JJ had been more than attached at the hip.

Even Hotch and Gideon seemed to be less uptight when you were around, Spencer had even managed to catch Hotch stifling a small smile at one of your jokes. It was clear you'd won the affections of everyone else, and it was clear in how you interacted with them all, that you didn't mind being around them either.

So why was he the odd man out?

"Well, have you done anything to get on her bad side?" Derek questions, and it's clear that he's trying his hand at support. It was Spencer's first year in the unit, and he was on the younger side, so despite some of Derek's personal opinions on the young man's naivety and otherwise polar opposite personality, he couldn't dig into him too bad about this.

Spencer takes in his question and thinks it over, mind raking over every single one of your verbal interactions thus far, and finds himself coming up blank. He hadn't done anything to offend her, he recalled wholeheartedly that she'd even offered him a smile when they first met. "No." Spencer says, and then Derek is snorting.

He looks across the way again, and the two girls are no longer in such deep discussion. You're leaning against the counter, mug of coffee held up to your lips as you too scanned the entirety of the bullpen. Derek watches as you turn your sights on Spencer, who's none the wiser as he continues to internally panic, and overthink any sort of perceived wrongdoings he might have been guilty of.

It's there that for Derek it kind of clicks. He looks between the two of you again, and finds himself chuckling under his breath, head shaking from side to side as Spencer looks up. He assumes the duo lock eyes for a second. It doesn't last. Mostly because you are immediately placing the fresh cup of coffee in the sink, and scurrying off, likely to hide out in JJ's office.

Spencer is looking back to Derek hopelessly, and he can't help but be a bit tickled at the way this was cutting Spencer up inside. It was a little funny, especially now that you had so accidentally dropped the piece that put it all together. He remembered how your cousin, had mentioned a boyfriend. Some guy that was super clingy, and kind of hovered around you like a sickness.

It was clear what your whole family thought of him, but he was the father of your newborn, which meant it was important for you two to stay together. Duty to your family though, didn't negate reality... or better put the duty to your heart. Derek supposes that's why he chooses to throw Spencer a bone.

He pats him roughly on the shoulder. Once, twice, three times, the palm of his hand colliding roughly with the curve as Spencer winces. He lets out a quiet 'Ow' that Derek ignores as he turns to the kid. "Well if you haven't done anything wrong, then she can't possibly hate you." Derek promises, and Spencer's eyebrows raise at the simplicity of the remark.

It's when Derek's expression turns cheeky that he's worried. "Have you ever thought that maybe she's so jumpy because she likes you?"

Spencer doesn't get a chance to answer, instead he gets to watch Derek Morgan walk away, a quiet, but much more audible chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head. Spencer is glued to his spot, Derek's words repeating like an echo, as he blinks over and over again. His hand curls into a fist at his side, hands bunching at the fabric of his pants as he feels his mind working overdrive.

He thinks that maybe Derek is pulling some cruel prank on him, and he sours. What a rude thing to say. Derek was better off telling him that you had been put off by his refusal to accept handshakes, or that you felt his cardigans and sweaters, and funky socks were childish. He resolves himself to these examples he's conjured, being the more likely cause of your odd behavior, and he reminds himself to never vent his problems to Derek Morgan ever again.

There were a lot of surprises and shocks in the world, things that broke past statistics, and precedents. He knew (or at least he was steadily learning) that things in the world were not as Black and White as they may have been in books, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that girls like Y/N L/N did not ever fall for the guys like Spencer Reid. Never ever. As he heads back to his desk to get started on his work for the day, he pretends to be okay with that fact.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid angst

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer pt 3

The story continues! Hope you guys like it!

Part 1 and 2 linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The Hero’s party stood with their backs to us, arguing loudly. They obviously didn’t hear Stephanie’s call, and kept their focus on the man in front of them.

“How dare you go back on our deal?!” Jack the Hero snapped, his face twisted with rage. “You have always been our chief supplier!”

Rita the Holy Archer spoke up, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder as she did so. “Yeah, you never turned us down before!”

The massive and imposing form of Garrett the Giant loomed over the group as he stood by with his arms crossed, nodding in agreement. The fourth and final member, Rebecca the Sorceress, leaned against the Hero, her eyes filled with tears as if everyone in the room had personally wronged her.

Seeing the group together again was… rough, to say the least. I had once considered three of them, Jack, Rita and Garrett,  my closest friends. We had played the game together before the Downfall, spending late nights going on raids and completing quests. They had been the brightest part of a life that had been greatly overshadowed by my parents’ expectations and disapproval. I had valued their friendship, so much so that I was willing to break myself over and over again just to stay by their side. I had lied to myself, that I was just as much a part of the team as they were. That I was valued, even if they didn’t always say so. That I was lucky to have them, given that I had chosen the class I did. I hated myself for my weakness, but refused to leave, too dependent on them to try to break off on my own.   

Until Jack finally betrayed me enough to wake me up to the truth:

They had never been my friends.  

As for Rebecca… my gaze settled on the pitifully crying girl. She was crying when I met her, too.

______________________

“Healer! Help! I have an injured person here!” At Jack’s frantic cry, I forced myself awake and ran out of my house, surprised to see him carrying a young, beautiful woman. Her face was unnaturally pale, her red hair matted with blood, stuck to her forehead. Her clothing was scorched in several areas, making her seem even more pitiful. I paused for a moment, feeling a brief discomfort at the sight of Jack holding her with a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.

We were not a couple. He had hinted his interest several times, but we had agreed to wait until the world was more stable before discussing it deeply. I wasn’t sure of my own feelings, having always considered him a good friend, but I knew that in the midst of a life or death battle was probably not the best time to give a real answer. Jack hadn’t been happy with my response, but said he understood. He hadn’t brought it up again, but the sight of his distress for the woman in his arms made me wonder if I had his answer.

Either way, it was no time to work out my feelings on the matter. I pushed away the flash of unease at the two’s closeness and stepped forward to look at the young woman. She flinched away from my gaze, her teary eyes looking up at Jack.

“Don’t bother your friend! I just need a potion and I’ll be fine.”

Jack smiled at her. “Nonsense, you fainted just a minute ago. The Healer may be useless in a fight, but she can do targeted therapy for whatever injuries you have.”

I winced at the word “useless”, a term I was all too used to from my childhood.

“Wait!” Rather than being comforted, this seemed to distress the young man more. She struggled slightly, seeming unable to free herself from Jack’s hold. “I don’t…”

I lost patience, and reached out my hand, putting it on her forehead.

“Scan.”

**The Healer has activated Scan -20MP. Target is not in your party and some information is withheld.

Rebecca the Sorceress

Class –Magic User

Title – Sorceress, Magic Student, Dependent, Poison Master.

Level 56

HP 209/250

MP 280/300

STR ***

DEX ***

INT ***

WIS ***

CHAR ***

Current status: Charm applied + 50 Charisma – 1 hour remaining.

Healing status – mild abrasions to forehead, right elbow, and anterior thigh-  10 sq centimeters total surface area.  First degree burns – dorsum of foot, and right wrist – 5 square centimeters total surface area. Mild poison toxicity – side effects include pallor, diaphoresis and generalized weakness. – 10 minutes remaining. **

I frowned as I read through the information. Jack quickly began asking questions.

“How bad is it, Healer? Will she be all right? You can fix it, right?”

“Some scrapes and mild burns, no worse than a sunburn, just needs her wounds dressed and some ointment for pain and to prevent infection. How did she get poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” He brought her into my house and set her down on my bed. “She wasn’t poisoned, she was protecting a family from bandits.”

I shrugged, getting out supplies and carefully cleaning and dressing her injuries. “The scan says she was poisoned, probably about an hour ago judging by the remaining cooldown. Nothing bad, just something that would make her pale, sweaty and weak.”

Rebecca began crying loudly as I finished bandaging her. Before I could react, Jack pushed me out of the way, leaning over to check on her. I slammed by back into the dresser, groaning with pain as it struck.

“Did she hurt you?!” He asked Rebecca, frowning as he looked over her bandages. 

She blinked back tears, regaining control of herself. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried… The way she said it… it sounds like she’s accusing me of taking poison on purpose!”

I gingerly stood up, rubbing my back where it hit the dresser. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Shut up, Healer!” He laid a hand on Rebecca’s head. “Just ignore her. She’s just a burden our team carries around because we happened to know her before the Downfall.”

I closed my eyes at his words, trying to ignore both the physical and emotional pain.

______________________

“Why can’t you help us?!” Rebecca was sobbing, blinking her tear-filled eyes and staring at the man in front of their group. “Don’t you know we’re humanity’s only hope?”

“They’re our only hope?”Alton leaned in, whispering “We’re so doomed.”

Stephanie and I chuckled quietly in response.

The owner of the shop, Winter, stood silently in front of the Hero’s party. He was tall, although still shorter than Garrett the Giant. Somehow his demeanor made him seem to tower over the entire group. His white hair was cropped short, at odds with his younger appearing face, placing him in his late twenties. His eyes were a bright pale blue, his handsome feature marred only by a large scar tracing across his face, only barely missing his right eye. His face was expressionless, almost bored, unchanged by Rebecca’s tears.

“You seem to be having a bit of a misunderstanding.” Winter finally spoke up, his voice quiet and cold. “I never had a deal with YOU.”

“LIAR!” Jack screamed. “You’ve always…”

“I’ve had a deal with your healer.” He raised an eyebrow. “And she’s not with you anymore. So I have no reason to deal with you.”

“The Healer?” Rita laughed, her sharp features and gaze filled with a mocking light. “That useless baggage? Why would you care if she’s with us or not?”

“…” Winter stared at her silently, and seemingly pressured, Rita stepped back, hiding behind Garrett. “Foolish.”

“We’re foolish?” Jack asked, shaken but still angry. “You’re the one who is turning down the opportunity of a lifetime. Just because of some bit…”

SMACK!

Winter backhanded the Hero, sending him down to the floor with a calm expression.

“Close your foul mouth, or I’ll close it for you.”  He raised an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

Stephanie raised her hand. “Where do I sign up to be part of his fan club?” Alton raised his hand as well, nodding.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You never change., Winter”

At my words, Winter turned towards me, his cold blank expression melting into a bright smile.

“Natalie! You’re here!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. I shrunk back slightly. Alton spoke up first, frowning. “Natalie?”

I sighed. “My real name, or more accurately, my name before the Downfall. I don’t like using it anymore.” I don’t like the person who wore that name, nor the people who bestowed it upon me. “Healer is a much more accurate title.”

Alton smiled and shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Miss Healer.”

Winter’s smile faded a bit, and he walked forward, stepping on the Hero as he did so, ignoring his grunt of pain.

“Are you okay? I just heard about the price on your head. Did they hurt you?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. You know that they couldn’t hurt me if they tried.”

“Anyone can get hurt if they get caught off guard, Nat.” He put a hand on my shoulder, staring into my eyes. “You should have left a long time ago. They didn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“Well, she’s got a new team now!” Alton stepped in excitedly.

“Yeah! We’re much better than those creeps!” Stephanie joined in. The two gave each other and me a thumbs up.

Winter stared at them for a while, before sighing. “I told you that you didn’t have to fight with anyone. Yet you still race towards danger at the side of these… people. What has humanity ever done for you?”

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a soft sigh. “Not everyone is as terrible as you think.”

“That’s rich, considering what state you were in when we first met.” The disappointment in his eyes was clear. I flinched, trying not to think of the circumstances of our first meeting.

“That’s not…”

“STOP IGNORING ME!” Rebecca cried out, fire blazing at her fingertips as she glared at all of us. As we quieted down, she focused her gaze on Winter. “Why are you so obsessed with her? She’s a useless healer! We are the HERO’S PARTY!”

Winter stepped closer, and she shrank into Jack’s side, trying to get away, but froze when Winter’s gaze met hers. “You know nothing, poison witch. A Healer is a noble profession, only meant for the strongest of heart and mind. “

“Y-you…”

“Now get out of my store.” He pointed at the exit, and after a moment of silence, the hero’s party shuffled out. Jack paused at the doorway, looking at me with a serious expression. “My offer is still open. We will attack the forty second gate in 3 days. With or without you.”

And with that, he was gone, and all was quiet.

“What idiots.” Alton sat down on a nearby chair, frustrated. “They’re going to put all of humanity at risk.”

“No more than they deserve.” At Winter’s harsh tone, everyone turned to him again.

“You don’t like humans?” Alton asked.

“Any reason why I should?”

He pointed at me. “Miss Healer is a human.”

“The exception, not the rule.”

I shook my head at his solemn reply. “We came here for supplies. Can you help us?”

“Of course.” He agreed immediately, pulling out a large bag from behind the counter and handing it straight to me. “On the house.”

“You know I’ll never agree to that.” I dropped some custom potions and gold on the table. “You have to stay in business.”

Winter shook his head, but I insisted. “Take it or I go somewhere else for supplies.”

“…Fine.” After a long hesitation, he finally reached out and took the items, carefully arranging them on the shelf on the back wall.

“…” Stephanie and Alton stared silently at the exchange between us.

“I smell drama!” Stephanie whispered loudly.

Alton nodded silently, frowning.

“Speaking of which, PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!” Stephanie stepped forward, dropping the pelts onto the counter. “BEHOLD! I HAVE COMPLETED MY QUEST!”

Winter looked over the wolf furs, nodding silently. “This is what I asked for.” His tone was unimpressed. Stephanie grinned, not intimidated.

“So you’ll pay me this time?”

“This time?” I turned to her. “How many times has he scammed you with fake quests?”

“They aren’t fake!” She defended, clutching the bag of gold he handed her. “He just has high standards.”

“Did you count your payment?”

“… I was about to.” She opened the sac of gold and muttered to herself, before staring accusingly at Winter. “It’s only half!”

“Because you didn’t get the pelts.” He inclined his head towards me. “I know Nat’s work when I see it.”

“I helped, though! I lured them all the way to her!”

“And I bet she asked for half.”

“How did you know?!” She paused. “I was going to give it to her.”

I sighed. “Just pay her the whole amount. Your deal was for the pelts, it doesn’t matter how she got them. If I want the cash, I’ll get it from her.”

“…”

“Besides, she’s my teammate…”

Stephanie jumped in. “AND BEST FRIEND!”

“…In a way it’s paying me.”

“…” He sat a second bag of gold down, which Stephanie snatched up and counted with glee. Winter ignored her, looking at me.

“You’re really doing this again? Trusting humans?”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

“You trust too much… you just pretend like you don’t to comfort yourself.” He thought things over. “Where are you going next?”

Alton joined in. “We’re going to go hunting in the fortieth level forest. Try to get a feel for our fighting style.”

“What about your fourth party member? Your team is incomplete.”

“Maybe we’re just picky?” Alton offered.

Winter stared at us. Stephanie broke first. “Everyone’s too scared to work with Alton, and they think Healer is a burden.”

“…”

“We don’t though! We think she’s awesome.”

Winter finally smiled at that. “Alright then.” He began packing a bag. “I’ll join your team.”

“AWESOME!”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’ll what?!”

Stephanie, Alton and I spoke up at the same time. Winter continued to pack, undisturbed by our shouts.

“You need a fourth teammate, and Nat needs someone to watch her back. It’s a win-win. ”

Alton stared at him. “Why do you think she needs your help?”

Winter didn’t flinch. “She needs it. Needed it since the beginning.”

After studying him a long moment, the dark wizard turned towards me. “It’s your call. I trust your judgement with this.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling tired. “Why don’t we do a trial before making anything official? Go fight together. See how it goes from there.”

“… You don’t trust me?” Winter asked quietly.

“You’d have to be their teammates as well, fighting to protect humanity. I don’t see why you are volunteering. You’ve never cared before.” Was my equally quiet answer.

After a long moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement. “…Fine. A test mission first.”

“Wait!” Stephanie chimed in. “Can NPCs even join human parties? Aren’t they the ones who give quests?”

Winter placed his packed bag on his back, grabbing a bow and some arrows. “My kind are not a part of the Rules. We follow them, just like you do.”

“So you’re like us?” Alton asked, curious.

“No.” His tone was flat. “I am nothing like you humans. But I can join your party.”

“Great! Let’s go on an adventure!” Stephanie ran towards the door, and shaking my head, I followed her.

“Should be interesting.”

____________________________

The fortieth-floor forest was filled with death. Black twisted trees, grey, dried out grass. Shadows from nothing, movements that didn’t make sense. I stood in place, feeling the constant overwhelming sensation of being watched.

Alton smiled, seeming right at home. “Alright guys, this place is chocked full of undead, perfect for a good fight. We just need to get a sense for how everyone else works, and how to help each other.”

“Sounds good!” Stephanie pulled out her enormous sword and grinned. “I’ll tank!”

“Great. I’ll provide crowd control and protection through magic.” He turned towards Winter, who seemed relaxed despite the evil forest around him. “What about you?”

Winter held up his bow. “I’ll pick off monsters from the back.”

“Great. That just leaves Miss Healer…” He turned towards me. “How would you like to fight?”

His question caught me by surprise. When I fought with the Hero’s party, I had often supported them secretly, standing afar, silently using my healing magic to add further injuries to my teammate’s attacks. It was difficult, making myself appear useless while protecting and attacking at the same time.

But now… I was able to openly and honestly take part with the team.

I smiled. “I want to be in the front.”

Stephanie cheered. “Besties tanks!”

“Sounds like we have a plan.” Alton grinned, looking every inch the evil wizard. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long before we ran into a large group of undead. Zombies, skeletons, shadowy creatures with claws and spikes, crawled out between the trees, their eyes glowing red with hunger.

“Kill!” A gravelly voice came out of the large skeleton, staring at me. I walked forward calmly, no weapons in my hands.

Undead didn’t have blood. Didn’t have beating hearts. They needed no oxygen, absorbing their energy from the living. Which limited my options. I would have to go for attacks that caused physical damage.

Stephanie ran forward with a loud cry, swinging her large sword and decapitating the first zombie in her field of vision. Alton chanted, his spells separating the zombies out in smaller groups, hindering their movement and slowing their attacks. I could hear the buzzing of arrows as Winter calmly shot down enemy after enemy.

It was my turn.

I held a scalpel in my hand, the cool metal somewhat comforting against my skin. A group of ten zombies shuffled towards me, trying to shake off the bonds of Alton’s magic.

Wordless incantation was still in cooldown. I would have to speak out loud to activate my spells. I stepped closer to the group

“Amputation.”

**The Healer has cast Amputation x 10. – 1000 MP. **

My magic reached out to each of the zombies, chopping off each of their right legs at the mid-thigh, slicing cleanly through rotting muscle and bone. The zombies groaned in confusion, falling to the ground. I watched them carefully, recognizing they were still dangerous despite their helpless appearance.

This is when Jack or the others would rush in to claim the kill… and then complain about the automatic XP share since my magic contributed to the fight. But now that I don’t have them… what now?

Amputation was a spell that could only be applied to limbs. Small and large incision could cut their throats, but not enough to decapitate them which was what was needed.

A brief feeling of hopelessness rose up within me. The despair that had filled my days as I fought in this strange world beside others who had ridiculed me and belittled me. I chose a worthless class, one that struggles to put down wounded zombies…  

One of the zombies flipped onto its stomach, beginning to pull itself towards me, teeth bared. Simultaneously, a spell and an arrow hit its remaining leg, pinning it into place. Stephanie was still fighting her group of zombies, but seeing me hesitate shouted out: “Go get ‘em!”

They’re encouraging me. The stark contrast of this fight from my past team made me smile. I wanted to live up to the support of this strange new team. I thought of a plan, and I reached out my hand, focusing.

“Craniotomy.”

**The Healer has cast Craniotomy x 10. – 5,000 MP.**

The skulls cracked open, revealing rotting brains. I kept an eye on my numbers, even with my unusually large mana pool, I couldn’t keep spending so recklessly. I chose a smaller spell.

“Cauterization.”

**The Healer has cast Cauterization x 10. – 100MP.**

The tissue shriveled under the heat of the spell and the zombies grew completely still. As I stared down at the carnage, Stephanie killed her last zombie, prompting the end of the battle.

** Stephanie the Lovely Barbarian is credited with 8 zombie monster kills, awarded 600XP and +8 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard is credited for the assist and is awarded 200XP and +2 fame. You receive 8XP as a party member.

The Healer is credited with 10 zombie monster kills, awarded 800XP and +10 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard, and Winter the Shopkeeper are credited for the assist and awarded 100 XP and +1 fame each. **

“AWESOME!” Stephanie ran over and hugged me, ignoring my grimace as I realized how badly she smelled after close combat with rotting corpses. “We’re the best team ever! Did you see how fast we took out high level zombies?”

“Strong work everyone!” Alton seemed pleased, “A few more fights, and I think we could get a good rhythm going.”

“Here.” Winter held out a mana recovery potion to me. “Those were high level healer spells you cast today. You probably need this.”

After a brief hesitation I took it. “You recognize Healer spells?”

“Of course.” He spoke sincerely, adding. “It’s the greatest achievement one can have, to take such a path. I’m happy to help you.”

“…Thanks.” I drank the potion.

The Healer has used Potion of Mana Recovery, +800MP. 2 remaining in Inventory.

Stephanie stood in front of me, clasping her hands together with a pleading expression. “So… can we keep him? You said we could consider it after a trial!”

Alton and I exchanged glances. I still felt uneasy about having an “NPC” on our team. For all the time I had known Winter, I still did not understand his true motivations. Why was he in this world with us? Why join our team? And the real question that haunted me:

Why did he help me a year ago when he had no incentive to do so?

But the truth was, he was our best option.

I nodded to Alton, who immediately offered his hand to Winter.

“Welcome to the team.”

**Winter the Shopkeeper has accepted your invitation to join your party! He will have access to shared inventory, and his stats will become visible upon medical scan.**

The usual joining party message popped up, along with something unexpected:

** NOTICE - Due to status of new party member, special restrictions will apply to any stat or data sharing.**

Special restrictions? I shook my head. Not helping with my paranoia about trusting him on our team.

Stephanie cheered as I shook his hand after Alton. Finally, once things had calmed down, we all sat down to regroup.

“What next?” Stephanie asked, grabbing jerky from her pack.

I thought over her question. “The Hero’s party is going to attack the gate in 3 days. We should plan to be there.”

“Oh joy, them again.” Stephanie bit angrily into the jerky, as if hurting the people who annoyed her. "I can hardly contain my excitement."

“Fighting monsters, AND making sure the Hero’s party won’t stab us in the back at the same time?” Alton grinned. “Sounds like a party to me!"

I sighed, and grabbed my own food from my bag.

We had 3 days to get ready.

#writing #part 3 #healer #fantasy #violence #magic #video game like world #betrayal

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 1

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m planning to write an Azriel x Archeron!half-sister reader series, possibly featuring a slow-burn romance and angst. I don’t know how many parts it’s going to have. It begins in ACOMAF chapter 24.

Summary: The eldest Archeron half-sister Y/n hates Fae kind, due to tragic past events. When she unexpectedly visits her sisters, she is met with the very race she hates.

Word count: 2.11K

Being the eldest sibling is not always easy. Y/n knew this firsthand, shouldering the weight of responsibility for her younger sisters from a young age. After their mother’s death, she made the difficult decision to leave her sisters behind and stay with her supposed biological father. It wasn’t because she didn’t share the same father as her sisters; in fact, he loved her like she was his own and never discriminated between them. For the first two years after their mothers death, she stayed with her family, but when her “father” lost his fortune, she knew leaving was the only option. It wasn’t just about lightening their burden by having one less mouth to feed; she also hoped by seeking out her biological father, she could find work and send money back to her family.

Surprisingly, her father welcomed her with open arms, a kindness that caught her off guard considering he had shown little interest in her when she was younger. Despite her initial skepticism, she didn’t question his motives, fearing he might kick her out. With cleverness and father’s help, she managed to pursue higher education, while working to make ends meet. Though her earnings were modest, she’d send whatever she could spare to her family, ensuring they had enough to survive. With Feyre’s help, there was always food on the table.

Y/n’s life was devoid of fun. Between studying, working, sleeping and occasional visits to her family, she had little time for socializing and friends. This isolation was entirely her choice; she distanced herself from others, earning a reputation as being cold, heartless, selfish, and arrogant to those who didn’t know her well. Yet, beneath this exterior, she harbored a deep love for her sisters and would sacrifice anything for their well-being, despite no longer showing them affection after their mother’s death. They understood her silent expressions of care, recognizing that actions spoke louder than words.

One thing everyone knew for certain is that y/n was stubborn. She held fast to her beliefs and opinions, regardless of external influences. Among her sisters, Netsa was the most like her and the one who admired her the most. The two shared the closest bond before she left, but make no mistake, if anyone Nesta feared and obeyed, it was Y/n, knowing she was not one to be crossed.

After Feyre left the mortal realm, her family’s fortune turned, and she finished her education. Consequently, her visits became less frequent, as she immersed herself into her work.

A smile appeared on y/n’s face at the thought of her sisters’ reactions to seeing her after a long time. She decided to surprise them with a spontaneous visit. Unbeknownst to her, another surprise awaited her inside the place she called home.

“Nesta, Elain, I’m home!” y/n announced as she opened the front door of their home.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Rhys whispered to Feyre.

“Nesta, why didn’t you tell me y/n was coming?” Feyre questioned, panic all over her face.

“I didn’t know. She usually sends word before she comes” Nesta claimed.

The conversation between the two sisters earned them a curious, yet worried look from the three males. Nesta stood from chair, hurrying to the door, but she was too late, y/n was now standing in the dining room, the smile dropping from her face and replaced by a shocked expression at the sight before her.

“What is going on?” y/n asked carefully and slowly.

“These are Feyre’s friends. We were not expecting you today” Elain replied.

“Y/n, it’s been a while. I’m so happy to see you” Feyre stood from her seat and hugged her sister, who was reluctant at first but returned the hug.

“You brought Fae-kind into our home?” it was more of a rhetorical question, but Feyre answered anyway.

“Y/n, this is Cassian” she inclined her head to the male with long hair “Azriel” she pointed to the male who y/n could’ve sworn was the most handsome man she’s even laid eyes on “and Rhysand, high lord of the Night Court” Feyre finished introducing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Rhys said with a warm smile.

“I’m sure” y/n sneered, returning her gaze on her sisters “you still haven’t told me what’s going on and why the very same race we despise are now in our living room, dining with us” y/n tried making sense of the situation.

Feyre explained the situation, why they were here, what they needed from the sisters and the threat posed by Hybern.

“So the moment you became fae, you chose to forsake us?” this was all y/n could utter.

“I’d never do that. Me being fae doesn’t change that. It never will. You’ll always be my sister” Feyre assured her.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have brought THEM here. Hatred aside, do you have any idea of the danger you just put Nesta and Elain in?” Y/n turned her hand into a fist, her knuckles as white as they could be, trying to keep her temper in check.

“There was nowhere else to go” Feyre claimed.

“And you were alright with this?” Y/n turned to face her other sisters.

“I wasn’t, but Elain agreed” Nesta informed her.

“Feyre’s right, there-“ Cassian spoke.

“Who are you again?” Y/n glared at him “I’m too tired to deal with this now” she rubbed her temples and said to no one in specific “call me when they’re gone”.

“Uhm, they’re-“ before Nesta could finish the sentence, y/n was already gone “-going to stay for a while” she sighed.

“I take it, this is your eldest sister” Rhys asked.

“I told you she could be intense” Feyre replied.

“That’s one word for it” Cassian expressed and was met with a glare from Nesta.

—-

Thinking they had left, y/n descended the stairs, dressed in her nightgown and robe, seeking out a comforting cup of tea in the quiet atmosphere of midnight. Opening the backdoor leading to their garden, she leaned against the door frame, admiring the stars as she sipped her tea. She took a deep breath appreciating the tranquility and solitude the night provided. She could’ve sworn the shadows moved, but she dismissed it believing it was hallucinations caused by exhaustion from a long trip. Noticing a bright star in the sky, she lifted her cup up and uttered “cheers” a sad smile appearing on her face…

As she was locking the door, she glimpsed a figure in the shadows. This time, unable to dismiss what she saw, she called out “who’s there?”.

At first there was no response but she called out again “I know there’s someone here, so I suggest you come out” she demanded.

Azriel hesitated but complied “I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you”.

“What are you still doing here?” She covered herself with the robe, the gesture did not go unnoticed by Azriel.

“Your gracious sisters allowed us to stay here for a while” he informed her.

“Have they now?” she nodded, clearly displeased by the information she just received “how long are you planning on staying here?”.

“Not long. As soon as the letter is delivered, we’ll be out of your way, I give you my word” he politely said.

“Your word means nothing to me. And if you’re staying at someone’s house, do not sneak up on them” her words as cold as ice.

“I wasn-“ before Azriel could explain, she had left, making his jaw clench in frustration.

The following day, she went downstairs earlier to get some breakfast, but what was early for her, was late for others. Upon entering the kitchen, she found Rhys and Feyre engaged in a conversation with Elain, while Nesta and Cassian bickered over their tea. Azriel was standing in the corner and when he saw her enter, his whole body tensed, and Cassian and Nesta went still

“Good morning” Rhys greeted and was met with silence.

Y/n prepared her breakfast when Feyre approached her “how did you sleep?” Y/n just stared at her sister without saying a word. Once she was done preparing her food, she took it and left without acknowledging anyone’s existence. As Cassian and Nesta resumed their bickering, Azriel finally relaxed, prompting Rhys to speak again “not a good morning, I guess?” He joked.

“Oh believe me, this is a good morning. If you think this was something, then you really don’t want to see her angry” Feyre remarked.

“Is she always like this?” Cassian asked.

“Give her time. She doesn’t like strangers and she most definitely hates Fae-kind” Feyre reminded.

“Yeah, that was clear” Cassian said.

“You’re talking about her like she’s a bad person” Nesta defended.

“Nesta, you know that’s not what I meant” Feyre tried to explain.

“All I’ve seen you do since you got here is criticizing y/n. She’s done nothing wrong” Nesta reminded.

“I’m sorry, but you know how y/n can be”.

“How? All she did was ignore you all, instead of engaging in a pitty argument that would hit your weak spots, and last I’ve known, she does not owe any of you anything. If you’re going to stay in this house, then better respect their owners” Nesta expressed.

“Nesta!” Elain said, clearly displeased with her sister’s tone.

—-

“Can I come in?” Nesta asked permission to enter y/n’s room.

“What is it now?” Y/n opened the door.

“I wanted to spend some time with you”

“Don’t you have guests to entertain?” Y/n crossed her arms.

“Elain and Feyre can deal with them. I’d rather stay here with you”.

“Fiine” y/n rolled her eyes but allowed her sister into her room.

“They already have a bad impression of you” Nesta told her.

“When did I ever care about what people thought of me? Let alone, what male Fae thought of me” y/n chuckled “it bothered you, didn’t it?”.

“Of course it did. I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak badly of you”.

“They’re just words spoken by irrelevant people. When you acknowledge their words, you make them relevant. Remember Nesta, you decide who you give power over you”.

The next day, Feyre, Rhys and Azriel were absent from the kitchen when y/n arrived “oh, for fuck’s sake, how do you two find the energy to fight this early in the morning?” Y/n asked, clearly awoken by the sound of Cassian and Nesta arguing.

“It’s noon” Cassian corrected.

“Whatever. If you’re gonna argue, do it outside. Hearing your voice gives me headaches” y/n uttered.

“And here I thought my voice was soothing” he sarcastically said.

“Don’t. Just don’t!” Cassian’s attempt at humor was met with y/n’s annoyance.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“More like a rough couple of days. Some people clearly don’t know how to be good guests” Y/n started making herself a cup of coffee.

“Well, maybe that’s because some people don’t know how to be polite hosts” he snickered.

“You know what? You’re not worth my time, if you want to argue, you have Nesta. She apparently has the patience for it”.

“Y/n” Nesta called.

“What? You do love arguing” y/n reminded.

“Wow, the two of you in the same house as poor Elain and Feyre, how did they survive?”.

“By knowing when to speak and when to shut up” y/n glared at him, taking her coffee and leaving and he said something.

—-

“What now?” Y/n asked as Feyre called for her sisters “We can leave soon to mail our letter” informing them.

“And this concerns me how?” Y/n asked.

“I-I thought you’d like to go with us”.

“Why would I do that? No, thank you”… “wasn’t there one more of you?” Y/n asked, pretending to just have realized Azriel wasn’t present.

“He had to return early. We had an altercation this morning” Feyre explained.

“Altercation?” Y/n narrowed her eyes,

“It’s nothing”.

“If you’re trying to hide it, then it is something”.

“She was attacked” Rhys claimed.

“What? By whom? And you call THIS nothing?” Y/n started checking her sister for injuries and both males’ eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt”.

“Who attacked you?”.

“It’s rather a what. She was attacked by a creature called the Attor who was sent by the king of Hybern” Rhys informed her “don’t worry, Az is taking care of it”.

To his surprise, she only nodded.

“I changed my mind. I’m coming with you” y/n announced.

“Don’t tell me it’s because I was attacked” Feyre smirked.

“Oh, shut up!” Y/n nudged her with her shoulder.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #azriel angst #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x oc #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acomaf #acowar #acosf #azriel fic #acotar x oc #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #nessian #cassian x nesta #rhysand x y/n #cassian x y/n #rhysand fanfic #cassian fanfic

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Power ranking BG3 ladies based on how much I'd personally like to marry them

All main and supporting women: Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Karlach Minthara, Jaheira, Isobel, Aylin, Mizora, Orin

Plus my background babes: Florrick, Talli, Alfira, Lakrissa, Araj, Nocturne, Skoona, Adrielle, Z'rell, Roah, Nine-Fingers, and special guest star Philomeen

*Isobel and Aylin deserve to be regarded as individuals occasionally, so yes I'm wrecking that home (Alfira and Lakrissa too)

*essentially, top 10 is "women I would like to marry" and 11-21 and is "women I would not like to marry"

Quartermaster Talli. Granted she has an unfair advantage due to looking and vibing as a fusion of my IRL girlfriend and the butch lesbian who installed my new garage door 3 years ago whom I'm still mildly obsessed with. But anyway, we'd have a really great life together. We'd be able to communicate, we'd be compatible in the bedroom, we have similar values. Wife material, Grade A - the gold standard comparison for everyone else on the list.

Isobel. We'd have our tiffs (we can both be a little catty and sensitive), but overall we'd be a pretty stable match. We'd put in the work to make it last. I feel like being a cleric counts as a "job" so I appreciate that.

Nocturne. My #1 "I can fix her" pick because I think I actually can. I appreciate a hard worker, so Nocturne having distinguished herself in her uh workplace enough to become an officer is very respectable to me. We could go to therapy together. Not a perfect match, but I think we could make it work.

Lakrissa. Would be an easy second place if she didn't read so young. She's a little immature (a little over-dedicated, a little too self-sacrificing) and so she'd have to do some growing up, but I think we could make it work.

Florrick. Even though she's my #1 beloved and by FAR the sexiest person in the entire game and I would do anything to [redacted], we'd be like two brick walls getting married. We're too similar. But sheer affection and lust propel her to the top 5 anyway, even though we'd probably be married 10 sexless years before one of us finally snapped and filed for divorce.

Skoona. Assuming she drops the whole self-deprecating thing (can't stand that). She has a job, she's sensitive, she's romantic, she's humble, and she's hot. I don't think we'd knock each others' socks off, but we'd be a nice match.

Lae'zel. Extremely 22 years old and that's an issue for me. I'm also too sensitive to make it through her tough outer shell to get to the soft waifu meat inside. However, she does have amazing wife material to uncover, so I think if I could be her second wife, we'd be golden.

Adrielle. We'd have our problems as two neurotic faux-normies, but we're neurotic in different ways, so maybe we'd complete each other? She's very conscientious and thoughtful, though, which are the most important wife traits for me. With commitment and therapy, we'd make it work, but it wouldn't be the smoothest ride.

Jaheira. I don't really want to be a step parent to young kids, so that pulls her down the list a bit, but there's no way I couldn't have her in the top 10. We'd get along great; we have the same sense of humor; we're both not clingy. A good match, but not really the wife for me.

Minthara. I want her so bad but she'd eat me alive and not in the sexy way. I would let her walk all over me for 2-3 years though, assuming she didn't dump me first. Impossible to rank below the top 10, but objectively not the wife for me.

Shadowheart. Like Lae'zel, there's a lot to get through before you get to the wife material deep inside. I would also need to be her second wife. Also, I'm not doing that cottagecore shit and I cannot have that many animals in my house.

Araj. I know I called her bad in bed 2 different ways in two other posts but that's not a problem, she's so sexy and interesting to me that I know I would fall super hard for her. I too love science? We have something in common. I feel like she'd bring out a lot in me, not necessarily good things, but to be loved is to be changed? I would probably come to my senses before really risking it all though.

Alfira. I love her so much but I am no Lakrissa, I could not handle both supporting her while she pursues her artistic goals AND having to top every time. We'd be that miserable couple that lets it drag on forever because nothing is *wrong* even though nothing is *right* and wind up hating each other.

Nine-Fingers. She'd stress me out too much. Running the streets, making enemies... what if a shake-down goes wrong? Admittedly I'm tempted to live out my mafia wife fantasies with her, but realistically, I think I'd have too many nervous breakdowns to make it worth it.

Karlach. The divorce would be so epic that I almost wanted to rank her higher, but I just know deep down that we would trigger/frustrate the fuck out of each other and completely implode long before making it to the courthouse and/or altar.

Aylin. I routinely get over-stimulated by my cats brushing against my leg when I'm trying to multi-task working and listening to music, so there is no universe in which I could tolerate being married to Aylin. She's too exuberant and touchy. I would be scream-crying WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME every time she simply asked me how my day was in her usual volume. An absolute disaster, she'd smother me despite her best intentions.

Z'rell. She can have place #17 to match the 17 husbands which I would not be okay with. I'm not jealous, but I'm not THAT not jealous. She's also just really harsh and I'm a crier, so we probably would not be able to have a conversation, let alone a relationship.

Roah Moonglow. Like Nine-Fingers, but I feel like the Zhent is like, a second-rate criminal organization and so it'd be like being a second-rate mafia wife. All the stress, fewer fist-sized emerald necklaces.

Mizora. On top of everything else, she's also a corporate LAWYER... yuck

Philomeen. I would go on 1 date with Philomeen, let her start a blowup fight with me outside of [regional burrito chain], let her neg me into fucking anyway, go no contact, and let her booty call me 2 years later at 3AM like nothing happened, but I would not even slightly consider dating her, let alone marrying her.

Orin. Ignoring the whole serial killer thing that's neither here nor there, the problem is the combo of overbearing family (my #1 dealbreaker of all time) and lack of communication skills (my #2 dealbreaker of all time). Like I'd be constantly trying to get her to go no contact with Serevok and she'd never listen and she'd always be talking in fucking Dr Seuss riddles and disappearing and pissing me off.

[yilan-meiyuan]

so, how does li lianhua define his relationship with fang duobing, if at all?

i once read a comment under a fanghua fic that li lianhua is like a fish swimming in a stream. one moment, under the rippling surface, you can see him clearly; in the next moment, he has gone on his way.

but, to extend that thought, in those moments he is here with us, one can absolutely see the shades of his beautiful colours, if one only pays close enough attention.

li lianhua actually tells us a lot:

"if li xiangyi knew that 10 years later, there would be someone who understands him this well, he would be very happy." (xiaohua, you indeed look very happy 😭💕)

"then, henceforth, i redress the grievances from my past actions. here is to my new friend — my best friend."

there are countless moments where li lianhua implicitly communicates such friendly sentiments towards fang duobing; however, not even one post but a hundred posts wouldn't even be enough to document that in its entirety. so, let's look at what he says explicitly for now.

this is the one and only time in the entire show xiaohua says there is someone who understands him.

it can only be someone special for one who speaks of himself as a wandering lone ghost, who has lived well alone for 10 years, to say this and make room for a new addition in his life. here, he names fang duobing as not only the person who understands li xiangyi, but also, he names him as li lianhua’s very best friend. about both his past and his present selves, xiaohua happily drinks to this and officially lets xiaobao in.

we see xiaohua communicate this declaration, though quietly (but i'm not sure if you're like me, when xiaohua smiles, it's literally so loud because my heart is full every time and i remember every single one of such moments), again at the end, when every part of his identity has been laid bare to xiaobao. their multiple breakups did not weaken their bond at all. in fact, they strengthened it, as couples who do the work and argue constructively do, and they are stronger than ever.

"to prove what you had done and didn't do, the one named li xiangyi had no choice but to return alive from the bottom of the sea, and the one named li lianhua, from now on, can no longer be that carefree jianghu physician he wanted to be."

everyone, as usual, had forgotten to consider the physical and emotional labour that costed xiaohua to appear here today — except for one person. and, xiaobao is not afraid to say it, in front of the entire sigu sect and jianghu members who got together for this trial, of what they missed and took for granted, that is, to have sect leader li always come in and solve their problems.

listening to xiaobao's words, it's that same smile xiaohua had when he realized this young man in front of him who cooked a full-course meal and more waiting for him in his home, who treated him as exactly the ordinary physician li lianhua he wanted to live as, also understood and spoke for li xiangyi all the same in a way no one else ever did.

but, does that affection only extend as far as a professional relationship between a teacher and a student does?

i'm not here to blow up or go into your space to tell you what you're allowed to ship romantically, i'm too old for that (and can only hope that people would give me the same courtesy). what i will say is that there have been many heterosexual tudi/shifu romantic relationships on screen in the past and present that audiences cheered for, cried over, and loved wholeheartedly.

for instance, there is the legendary yang guo x xiaolongnv of the return of the condor heroes, my loves cui shiyi x zhousheng chen of one and only (2021), and li tongguang x ren ruyi of a journey to love (2023) who took first place in the fictional shipping weibo supertopic ranking during the show's air. so, why would romantically shipping fictional fang duobing x li lianhua who simply met as kids for one meeting and made a promise to meet again in the future to train together be a problem? they did not even hold an official apprenticeship ceremony to be deemed formal student x teacher.

if you are fine with the former fictional couples but not when it is two men, then that is perhaps something to personally reflect on.

is it age gap then — well, wei yingluo x the emperor in story of yanxi palace (2018) were 16 years apart and audiences embraced their spicy and romantic cat and mouse dynamic. i was more of a wei yingluo x the empress shipper, which had a 15 years age gap, and us 令后cp shippers back then shipped this sapphic relationship in a way that would be defined as pure love warrior today. the age gap of fang duobing x li lianhua is half of that. they are 20 and 28, 8 years apart.

ship what you like in fanon, but for me, i like to go back to canon and let it inform me. plus, what xiaohua communicates and wants matters to me above all.

when madam qin asks xiaohua if the talented young man outside is his disciple, xiaohua clearly answers, "shiniang, he is not my disciple. and, i didn't teach him much." this rejection of the formal teacher-student label is indeed something both fang duobing and li lianhua communicate. as a dear friend said to me, if li lianhua does not lie to his shiniang about his dying body, when he tricks everyone else that he has recovered, why would you assume that he is lying here about whether he has a disciple? the only logical conclusion is that yes, xiaohua is speaking from his heart here. he does not recognize he and xiaobao's relationship to be a professional one.

if you look carefully at the future incidences from this point where teacher-student is brought up between xiaohua and xiaobao when they are alone, xiaohua is purposely bringing it up because he knows it will get a reaction out of xiaobao. xiaohua uses this break as a way to distract xiaobao from further noticing his deteriorating health and seeing through his lie and peaceful visage.

then why did li lianhua explicitly name fang duobing as his disciple at the very end if not for keeping him at a distance?

if you didn't notice, xiaohua is dying. he depleted his last bit of yangzhouman at sigu sect. here, he does not know if he would wake up the next day should he lose consciousness. in a person's last moments, they would often look at their life in review. days and weeks if given the time to, or in a quick flash. when xiaohua looks up one final time to see xiaobao fussing and worrying over him, ready to do whatever it takes to save him, he says, "taking you as my disciple was not in vain." the act of taking xiaobao as his disciple was the start of their entwining fates that led them to now. this is what xiaohua thinks back to in what may have been his last moments.

what he means is: if there was one thing i did in this life that was not in vain, that got for me as much, if not more than, as what i had given, it is meeting you.

to finish off on a lighter note, xiaohua and xiaobao do quite a bit of play in their relationship. whether it was a "hero saves beauty" scheme weaved by the beauty li lianhua himself in their first meeting as adults, detective fang and sly physician li trying to get second chances and escape, or their matching leaf masks, the two of them are an absolute joy, and they love to have fun together. what is teacher-student if not yet another one of their games?

a moment of silence for alliance leader di for walking in on fanghua's (terrible, i say lovingly, these are my children) roleplay. xiaobao tried so hard and even used a formal "you." 😂🙈 the dynamic of rejecting to others a teacher-student label from being used to define their relationship while also teasing and having fun with it in private is so incredibly fun, and chinese-language romantic fanghua fan works certainly do have a lot of fun with it.

all in all, however you wish to see li lianhua and fang duobing's relationship, the canonically base level for them is that formal toast to each other at lotus tower: they are best friends. you can build from there. that is the most simple and straightforward fact of the story.

#long post #fanghua #li lianhua #fang duobing #mysterious lotus casebook

[eventinelysplayground]

A Glance & A Dance

This is @violettduchess request for my 50 follower event. I already explained the saga behind this but it really was so much fun! I decided to go less trauma more because the one I had with more trauma and angst was getting pretty dark and I also couldn't pull it together. Only thing I wish I could have come up with a better title, I'm trying to get more creative with them just it's not working well. I hope you enjoy and that it adds to your day, and thanks again for the support and congrats! Mild swearing, WC approx 1967.

The stars in the night sky glimmered like jewels, as did the young ladies in their splendid dresses. The palace ballroom was lively and the music drifted on the night breeze while everyone laughed and enjoyed themselves, everyone except for two princes who stood on opposite sides of the room, one smiling while talking with everyone and masking his pain, the other silently watching.

He's always been strong. He'll get over her, he has to.

The first notes of another waltz began to play but rather than ask any of the dozen young ladies around him for their hand Leon gave them all a smile and walked away.

Come on Leon there's gotta be one woman here that-

“For somebody who's idea this whole thing was, you don't look to be having any fun.”

Jin didn't even bother to turn in Clavis's direction.

“Me having fun isn't the point of this.”

“Oh?”

Jin took the drink that Clavis so casually offered him and took a long sip, his gaze still focused on Leon.

“It won't work, you know that right.”

“Why not? He fell in love before and a ball is the perfect place for it after all, two hearts can become one with a dance.”

Clavis blinked in a daze for a moment then he burst out laughing.

“If it were really that easy I don't think you'd be feeling so guilty now would you."

Perceptive bastard aren't you.

“It may hurt for a while but it'll be better in the long run for everyone if he just moves on. None of us were supposed to fall in love with Emma to begin with-”

“But some of us did, didn't we? And I'm not just talking about Leon.”

Jin's grip tightened around his glass and his jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“You confessing to being in love with her too, Clavis?”

“Me no, but perhaps you want to take a good look at yourself.”

“I'm not in love with Emma.”

I can't allow myself to be. She deserves a hell of a lot better than me, better than Leon too. She deserves a life better than anything that awaited her here, she deserves to be happy.

Jin was expecting Clavis to laugh or try to push him on the matter but instead there was only silence. When he finally bothered to look at Clavis he found him staring down watching the grape juice swirl inside his glass as he toyed with it.

“I don't think any of us is qualified to give lectures on love or what to do about it to anyone but, I know Leon isn't happy and I doubt Emma is either. Is making two people so obviously miserable really the right thing to do, or is it what's easiest for you?”

Clavis didn't wait for a reply, instead walking off into the crowd leaving Jin alone with his thoughts. Jin was frustrated, not even with Clavis but with himself. How many times had he asked himself the same questions Clavis had just asked him? Jin downed the last of his drink and started walking across the ballroom.

I need some damn air.

He crossed the ballroom and exited out onto the balcony. The night air was cooling and helped to calm his thoughts as he leaned against the railing. As he stood there listening to the music he was brought back to a night similar to this one some twelve years ago.

“How have you been enjoying tonight's ball so far?”

“Fine.”

“What do you think of the guests? Any in particular that have made an impression?”

Jin knew what his father was asking and internally he grimaced.

“Sure, quite a few of them have sand in all the right places.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I'm sure there's a couple that wouldn't mind playing by my rules in-”

The King's fist came down hard on the balcony railing sending a dull thud into the night air.

“Is that all you care about? Just satisfying your base lust and carnal desires!”

Jin's jaw clenched, how dare his father try to lecture him on giving into base desires.

“What about your future? What about love?”

“Love!?”

Jin spat the word out as if it burned his mouth.

“Yes love. I would like for you to have love in your life, like I did once. A ball is the perfect place for that after all, it was when I was dancing with your mother that I realized how in love with her I really was.”

“What?”

“It was a waltz. We were from two different worlds and I hadn't really allowed myself to think…but all it took was a glance during that dance and I knew. She loved me and wanted me as much as I did her and so I took a chance. When the waltz was done I took her out on the balcony and I confessed my love for her and asked if she loved me in return. She gave me the sweetest smile and and an even sweeter kiss, our two hearts became one because of that dance.”

“Love is nothing but a curse.”

“Then I hope it's a curse you one day have.”

Jin stood there and sighed at the memory, he was about to go back in when he noticed Leon further down, his hands resting on the balcony railing and a look of sadness in his eyes.

Come on Leon, you have to know that doing this is best for everyone. Hell if Emma could have been happy here I would have made my move well before you ever had a chance to make her fall in love with you but she wouldn't be happy she’d just be mis-

‘Is making two people so obviously miserable really the right thing to do?’

No, no it's not. I really screwed this one up didn't I? Hopefully I still have time to make this right. I may not be the one who gets to make her happy but-

“Hey.”

Jin called out to Leon as he approached him but Leon didn't acknowledge him, things had been strained between them lately. Leon had come up with a proposal to keep Emma by his side and all their other brothers had readily agreed to it but Jin wouldn't budge, not until tonight.

“Leon.”

“Oh Jin, sorry I didn't see you out here.”

“You looked like you were thinking pretty hard about something.”

“It was nothing, do you need something or.”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On you admitting what you were thinking about.”

“Then forget it.”

Jin knew Leon had every right to be angry with him, and that was only for the stuff Leon knew about, but the distance between them now and the venom in Leon's voice stung. As Leon began to walk back inside Jin called out to him.

“You were thinking about Emma again weren't you?”

“If you're going to try and-”

“Just listen okay, I promise you don't have to listen to another word I ever say as long as you listen to me now.”

I'm the one who needs to let go so she can be happy.

**** One year later ****

On another night when the sky was filled with stars that shined like jewels and music was carried on the breeze a prince stood silently watching but this time it wasn't another prince he watched.

Emma had agreed to annul clause ninety nine and shortly after she had returned to the palace for good. All his brothers were happy she was back but especially Leon, Jin had never seen him as happy as that night on the balcony when he told him he would give in but only if Emma agreed to it.

I guess it all worked out for the best. I'm not the type of man who could make a woman like Emma happy, not really anyways but Leon's different. I know he'll do anything to make sure her life is full of love and happiness. Guess you got your wish after all huh old man?

Jin was watching Emma as she talked with a group of women her age then suddenly their eyes met across the room and she smiled at him.

I love seeing you smile like that. If only I could truly let you go but as much as I've tried I can't.

Jin saw that Emma was excusing herself and his eyes followed her as she came to stand at his side.

“Hey there Emma, you look like you're having fun.”

“I really am, I've talked to so many people and danced so much tonight.”

“That's good, it's important to enjoy yourself.”

“What about you? I’ve barely seen you talk to anyone or dance once tonight.”

“Haha. Is that your way of trying to get me to dance with you?”

Jin reached out and playfully tousled Emma's hair.

“I'm flattered but I couldn't possibly dance with you.”

“Are you afraid I'll step on your toes like I did to Yves?”

“No, I'm afraid that with just one dance you'll fall madly in love with me.”

“Oh I see…wait, what?”

Jin slid an arm around Emma's waist, his voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“It's only natural after all, the soft music, the rhythmic motions, how close you have to be to one another, the longing gazes. One dance is all it can take for two people's hearts to become one”

This may be selfish of me but...

“It also helps that I'm already madly in love with you. I have been for a long time and I want to be the one to make you happy so badly it hurts. You have no idea how jealous I am of Leon, that he’s the one who gets to be with you, kiss you, make love to you.”

Jin tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“I'm also super sexy and still in the prime of my youth, so all those combined the only thing you could do is fall in love with me and then I'd have to fight Leon for you, shirtless of course.”

I can't be with you and that's the best thing for you, even if you didn't love somebody else it would still be best for us not to be together. All I can do for you now is watch over you.

Jin’s voice was purposely light, a smile on his face and he started to laugh as he removed his hand from Emma's waist.

“You should see the expression on your face, did I take it too far this time?.”

“Jin, don't tease me like that! I thought you were serious!”

“Sorry, I promise I won't tease you like that again. How about I make it up to you by dancing with you after all?”

Jin was about to offer Emma his hand but then he noticed Leon approaching from the corner of his eye.

“Looks like that dance will have to wait for another time, unless you really do want me to fight Leon shirtless?”

“No! I'm perfectly fine with no shirtless fighting!”

“Do I want to know what the two of you were talking about?”

“Leon! Jin was just teasing me again, that's all.”

“Well then it looks like I'm just in time, care to dance Emma?”

“With pleasure!”

“See you two later. Oh and Emma, don't forget what I said, it only takes one dance.”

I don't really mind living with this curse. Leon makes you happy and as long as you can always be happy, unlike them.

The ball was long over but in the stillness just before the dawn, when shadows played along the walls there in the middle of the ballroom the ghosts of a Belle and her Prince took one more glance and one more dance.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince jin #ikemen prince leon #jin grandet #leon dompteur #ikepri jin #ikepri leon #ikepri emma #50 followers

[wishfulsketching]

Oh, forgot I had these almost done, s2 dndads dads and moms. Designs that might change along the way as always.

#my art #dndads #dndads odyssey #rebecca oak swallows garcia #sparrow oak #lark oak #cassandra swift #nicky foster close #marco li #grant wilson #Veronica Marlowe-Stampler #terry jr stampler #I make everyone look so young I have to work on that #ghhhhh #I try #I am on the fence with marco #I'm not sure what vibe to lean to #I want him to look like a teddybear tbh #he's a kind boy

[buglaur]

she's live

now you can see what everyones height is in my head because i refuse to download height sliders. look at ass <3

#also works on mobile btw ☝️ !! #me successfully making this is proof you can achieve anything with 500 google searches #you should see my search history #html how to put image. html how to change image size. html how to put images in a row. html how to center a row of images. html how to #their pinterest boards are disabled at the moment because i need to make them look good before i share them #and most tags don't work yet because i'm too lazy to go back through my whole blog and tag almost 2 years worth of posts 😭 #going to christen it by reblogging one of those dress up your sim prompt ask games #if i can find it #and then i'm going to get completely stuck into rufus and sawyers gameplay yessss i can't wait #leaving virgils gameplay forever i think because when rufus and sawyer have a kid i'm moving him in as the babysitter #would you believe me if i told you there is 0 cc clothes in this #i've fallen in love with maxis clothing recently idk what happened to me #besides roxys boots and virgils bag its a vanilla lookbook #thank you to everyone who voted on the poll yesterday btw #even though it was 50/50 the majority of the time it was up #it ended up 60/40 after an hour tho so i went with my fav macmahon lifestages instead of young adult stages! #goodnight <3

[atopvisenyashill]

“why would elaena marry a dornishman when they’re nasty evil people who murdered her poor innocent brother daeron”

maybe because once elaena grew up she realized that there were better ways of bringing dorne into the realm than violent conquest, and that daeron got the death he deserved from not just a nobility that is valid for fearing subjugation from valyria but also a smallfolk sick and tired of these people showing up every few decades to set their principality on fire, and put aside any anti dornish sentiments she may or may not have harbored as a child to see the way her family had directly attributed to their suffering, eventually even falling in love with and marrying a dornish man??

also, considering daeron ii attempts a type of proto-reparations act in bringing dorne into the kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone as intelligent as elaena would recognize the inherent racism in the targaryen conquest of dorne and especially considering the very loud anti-dornish, deeply anti intellectual faction in the blackfyre rebellions, realized they wouldn’t be kind or understanding of an intelligent woman like herself and had no interest in herself or her daughters (of which she had four!!) getting shoved back into the maidenvault again?

like, daeron i is on some andrew jackson manifest destiny shit, and if it makes me an asshole for thinking “god i wish someone had merked jackson before he genocided & displaced my ancestors, good on the dornish for realizing you can’t negotiate with imperialists” than i am perfectly comfortable being considered an asshole right next to my girl elaena.

#everyone discoursing about the young dragon. listen. they should have tortured him before they killed him too. #anti daeron i targaryen #valyrianscrolls #anti house targaryen #idk just in case. clearly i’m not anti everyone i’m complimenting elaena & daeron ii #elaena targaryen #daeron the good #daeron ii targaryen #getting on my soap box #dorne #also when i say ‘my ancestors’ i mean that jackson passed the indian removal act specifically to remove my tribe (and several others) bc #white people in the midwest didn’t like that we wouldn’t leave. #my tribe managed to work somethjng out and only had to move a couple miles away from our homelands. others in our area were forcibly mkced #*moved. look up the potawatomi trail of death. they marched them thru illinois’ capital. dozens including children died. #also read about the fort dearborn massacre. and rising up from indian country which makes the argument that it wasn’t a massacre #but a battle bc white americans had been raiding potawatomi villages for weeks. so the potawatomi struck back and people to this day insist #it was a massacre just bc the potawatomi were better at fighting than the americans. nah. #u don’t get to wage a war of conquest on an innocent and indigenous population just to turn around and say they were mean for fighting back. #i’m sorry i woke up today and decided to choose violence. i’m in an awful mood aksjdjd

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

late Carlo and Moretti (during vinci-moretti war) are like Luca and Clemente to me. Moretti will never raise his hand on Carlo but! will he drive him into guilt in ways that are not direct? insult him in passing? convince Carlo that he's doing everything wrong, when in fact it's the opposite? of course such a painful kick to Carlo's ego, it's unfair, he doesn't deserve it. and it's not a father-son relationship, it's a professional relationship and he can't say anything back & defense himself in any way maybe Moretti's more favorable to Eddie in this period because he's more blindly loyal and Carlo feels he's about to explode

#^ i wrote it before that hounds thing but its about all this anger was once love etc #carlo who is a capo who has done so many terrible things for this place watching how eddie gets bonus points for blind loyalty: 😐 #and it's not even that he's a capo it's that carlo says the right things but moretti dismisses him every time #also ok😬😬😬my truth! is that eddie really was against killing moretti at first #and when he finally decides to support carlo well. is it just a change of master? (yes) #m2 #moretti family #and! #as far as i understand Moretti's murder took place just a few days before his victory? fucked up thing #i mean. it just makes Carlo an even shitty man. he chose himself over the majority #(i can't think about any war theme on a physical level at this point so. i have only abstract thoughts on this) #but objectively: moretti family may have gained control of the vinci family's territory of influence etc #instead they got a young crazy don. and everyone was alright w it (?!makes me think for what reason) #which is why i think there's been something wrong with Moretti in his last yrs. he looks much older thank frank n leo #for now he's just an old man stubbornly clinging to power to me. but not to say that i worked on his character much #i think he became weaker hypochondriacal and paranoid towards the end. “i saw his hands trembling” carlo bout moretti etc #“akela missed his kill!” and the young wolves tore him apart #ewwwwwwwwwww no Carlo who sees Moretti growing weaker and instinctively his teeth are bared more and more ewww #kill the weak and old so the young can survive😬😬 (fucked up thing is that they aren't animals they would survive w moretti in charge) #spoiled hounds parallel makes things so much complicated tbh. but it feels right